These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these, With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please.

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; There as I passed with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came softened from below: The swain, responsive as the milk-maid sung; The sober herd, that lowed to meet their young; The noisy geese, that gabbled o'er the pool; The playful children just let loose from school; The watch-dog's voice, that bayed the whispering wind; And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ;These, all, in sweet confusion, sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made.

LII. THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN.-Goldsmith.

NEAR Yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild,
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village Preacher's modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,

Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,

By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to all the vagrant train;
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain.
The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talked the night away.

Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,

Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won:

Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His Pity gave, ere Charity began.

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And even his failings leaned to Virtue's side;
But, in his duty prompt at every call,

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all:
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt her new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway;
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The Service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran;
Even children followed with endearing wile,

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile:
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed,
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast, the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

LIII.-MATERNAL HOPE.-Campbell.

Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps,
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps:
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes,
And weaves a song of melancholy joy :-
"Sleep, image of thy father!-sleep, my boy!
"No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine;
"No sigh, that rends thy father's heart and mine.
Bright, as his manly sire, the son shall be

"In form and soul; but. ah! more bless'd than he!

"Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last,
"Shall soothe his aching heart for all the past;
"With many a smile my solitude repay,

"And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away.
"And say, when, summoned from the world and thee,
"I lay my head beneath the willow-tree,

"Wilt thou, sweet mourner! at my stone appear,
"And soothe my parted spirit lingering near?
"Oh! wilt thou come at evening hour, to shed
"The tears of memory o'er my narrow bed;
"With aching temples on thy hand reclined,
"Muse on the last Farewell!' I leave behind;
"Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low,
"And think on all my love, and all my woe?"
So speaks affection, ere the infant eye
Can look regard, or brighten in reply:
But, when the cherub lip hath learned to claim
A mother's ear by that endearing name;
Soon as the playful innocent can prove
A tear of pity, or a smile of love;

-

Or cons his murmuring task beneath her care,
Or lisps, with holy look, his evening prayer;
Or gazing, mutely pensive, sits to hear
The mournful ballad warbled in his ear,-
How fondly looks admiring Hope the while,
At every artless tear, and every smile!
How glows the joyous parent, to descry
A guileless bosom, true to sympathy!

LIV.-TO-MORROW.

TO-MORROW, didst thou say?

Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow.
Go to-I will not hear of it-To-morrow!
'Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty; who takes thy ready cash,
And pays thee nought, but wishes, hopes, and promises-
The currency of idiots: injurious bankrupt,

That gulls the easy creditor!-To-morrow!

It is a period nowhere to be found

In all the hoary registers of Time,
Unless, perchance, in the fool's calendar!
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my Horatio

'Tis Fancy's child, and folly is its father;
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and baseless
As the fantastic visions of the evening.

But, soft, my friend-arrest the present moments;
For, be assured, they all are arrant tell-tales:
And, though their flight be silent, and their path
Trackless as the winged couriers of the air,

They post to heaven, and there record thy folly ;-
Because, though stationed on the important watch,
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel,

Didst let them pass, unnoticed, unimproved.
And know, for that thou slumberedst on the guard,
Thou shalt be made to answer, at the bar,
For every fugitive; and when thou thus
Shalt stand impleaded, at the high tribunal
Of hood-winked Justice, who shall tell thy audit?
Then, stay the present instant, dear Horatio!
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings;

'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious
Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain!-
Oh! let it not elude thy grasp; but, like

The good old patriarch upon record,

Hold the fleet angel fast, until he bless thee!

LV.-ODE TO ADVERSITY.- -Gray.

DAUGHTER of Jove! relentless Power,
Thou tamer of the human breast;
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain;
And purple tyrants vainly groan

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.

When first thy sire to send on earth

Virtue-his darling child-designed,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade thee form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was thou bad'st her know,

And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe.

Scared at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,—

Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,-
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go

The summer friend, the flattering foe;
By vain Prosperity received,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

Wisdom, in sable garb arrayed,

Immersed in rapturous thought profound;

And Melancholy, silent maid,

With leaden eye that loves the ground,

:

Still on thy solemn steps attend :

Warm Charity, the general friend;

With Justice, to herself severe;

And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

Oh, gently, on thy suppliant's head,

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Not circled with the vengeful band

(As by the impious thou art seen)

With thundering voice and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry,

Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty!

Thy form benign, oh, Goddess, wear!
Thy milder influence impart !
Thy philosophic train be there,

To soften, not to wound my heart.

The generous spark, extinct, revive;
Teach me to love, and to forgive;

Exact my own defects to scan;

What others are, to feel; and know myself—a man!

LVI. THE PULPIT.— -Cowper.

I VENERATE the man whose heart is warm,

Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life Co-incident, exhibit lucid proof

That he is honest in the sacred cause.

To such I render more than mere respect,

Whose actions say that they respect themselves:
But, loose in morals, and in manners vain,

In conversation frivolous, in dress