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e plaudit is likely to be
ircumstance which greazi piety of calling upate st all nations have been i } issions a show of religie sith prayers and the solen at their armies to descoles ure, they have the presun e l'niverse will condezer o their petty and despicaldo plain language, would re, families of the earth, we are f mankind, but our strength thee to assist us in the work with our fleets and armies interwoven in our banner symbols of a suffering oss upon which our Sarioa · shall do it in the name; in it. Thou, who hast made he earth, we trust thou wz
enable us to bring mit ..” Now if we really expert
the weakest, if not, we are
O do not stain with guiltless blood
Thy hospitable hearth!
Nor (riumph that thy wiles betrayed
A prize so little worth.
The scattered gleanings of a feast
My frugal meals supply ;
But if thine unrelenting heart
That slender boon deny-
The cheerful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given;
Let Nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of Heaven.
The well-taught, philosophic mind
To all compassion gives ;
Casts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.
If mind—as ancient sages taught-
A never-dying flame,
Still shists through matter's varying forms,
In every form the same;
Beware, lest in the worm you crush,
A brother's soul you find;
And tremble lest thy luckless hand
Dislodge a kindred mind.
Or, if this transient gleam of day
Be all of life we share,
Let pity plead within thy breast
That little all to spare.
So may thy hospitable board
With health and peace be crowned;
And every charm of heartfelt ease
Beneath thy roof be found.
So when destruction lurks unseen,
Which men, like mice, may sbare,
May some kind angel clear thy path,
And break the bidden snare !
O born to soothe distress and lighten care,
Lively as soft, and innocent as fair!
Blest with that sweet simplicity of thought
So rarely found, and never to be taught;
Of winning speech, endearing, artless, kind,
The loveliest pattern of a female mind;
Like some fair spirit from the realms of rest,
With all her native heaven within her breast;
So pure, so good, she scarce can guess at sin,
But thinks the world without like that within;
Such melting tenderness, so fond to bless,
Her charity almost becomes excess.
Wealth may be courted, Wisdom be revered,
And Beauty praised, and brutal strength be feared;
But Goodness only can affection move,
And love must owe its origin to love.
O thou, the Nymph with placid eye!
O seldom found, yet ever nigh!
Receive my temperate vow:
Not all the storms that shake the pole
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul,
And smooth unaltered brow.
O come, in simple vest arrayed,
With all thy sober cheer displayed,
To bless my longing sight;
Tby mien composed, thy even pace,
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace,
And chaste subdued delight.
No more by varying passions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell;
Where in some pure and equal sky,
Beneath thy soft indulgent eye,
The modest virtues dwell-
Simplicity in Attic vest,
And Innocence with candid breast,
And clear undaunted eye;
And Hope, who points to distant years,
Fair opening through this vale of tears
A vista to the sky.
There Health, through whose calm bosom glide
The temperate joys in even tide,
That rarely ebb or flow;
And Patience there, thy sister meek,
Presents her mild unvarying cheek
To meet the offered blow.
Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
A tyrant master's wanton rage
With settled smiles to meet:
Inured to toil and bitter bread,
He bowed bis meek submitted head,
And kissed thy sainted feet.
uess at sin,
that within; to bless,
a be revered,
trength be feared;
But thou, O Nymph retired and coy!
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy
To tell thy tender tale?
The lowliest children of the ground,
Moss-rose, and violet blossom round,
And lily of the vale.
O say what soft propitious hour
I best may choose to hail thy power,
And court thy gentle sway?
When Autumn, friendly to the Muse,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day;
When Eve, her dewy star beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,
And every storm is laid;
If such an hour was e'er iby choice,
Oft let me hear thy soothing voice
Low whispering through the shade.
Fow: e the pole | soul, brow. red, played, sht; en pace, on grace, light.
tant years, le of tears
O Wisdom! if thy soft control
Can soothe the sickness of the soul,
Can bid the warring passions cease,
And breathe the calm of tender peace;
Wisdom! I bless thy gentle sway,
And ever, ever will obey.
But if thou com'st with frown austere,
To nurse the brood of Care and Fear;
To bid our sweetest passions die,
And leave us in their room a sigh;
O, if thine aspect stern have power
To wither each poor transient flower
That cheers this pilgrimage of woe,
And dry the springs whence hope should flow;
Wisdom! thine empire I disclaim,
Thou empty boast of pompous name!
In gloomy shade of cloisters dwell,
But never haunt my cheerful cell.
Hail to Pleasure's frolic train!
Hail to Fancy's golden reign!
Festive Mirth, and Laughter wild,
Free and sportful as the child!
Hope with eager, sparkling eyes,
And easy faith, and fond surprise !
Let these, in fairy colors drest,
For ever share my careless breast :
Then, though wise I may not be,
The wise themselves shall envy me.
Cease, Wilberforce, to urge thy generous aim!
Thy Country knows the sin, and stands the shame!
The Preacher, Poet, Senator in vain
Has rautled in her sight the Negro's chain ;
In vain, to thy white standard gathering round,
Wit, Worth, and Parts and Eloquence are found :
In vain, to push to birth thy great design,
Contending chiefs, and hostile virtues join;
All, from conflicting ranks, of power possest
To rouse, to melt, or to inform the breast.
Where seasoned tools of Avarice prevail,
A Nation's eloquence, combined, must fail:
Each flimsy sophistry by turns they try;
The plausive argument, the daring lie,
The artsul gloss that moral sense confounds,
The acknowledged thirst of gain that honor wounds:
Bane of ingenuous minds! the unfeeling sneer,
Which sudden turns to stone the falling lear:
They search assiduous, with inverted skill,
For forms of wrong, and precedents of ill;
With impious mockery wrest the sacred page,
And glean up criines from each remoter age:
Wrung Nature's tortures, shuddering, while you tell,
From scoffing fiends bursts forth the laugh of hell;
In Britain's senate, Misery's pangs give birth
To jests unseemly, and to horrid mirth-
Forbear! thy virtues but provoke our doom,
And swell the account of vengeance yet to come;
For, not unmarked in Heaven's impartial plan,
Shall man, proud worm, contemn his fellow-man!
For you, whose tempered ardor long has borne
Untired the labor, and unmoved the scorn;
In Virtue's fasti be inscribed your fame,
And uttered yours with Howard's honored name;
Friends of the friendless—Hail, ye generous band !
Whose efforts yet arrest Heaven's lifted hand,
Around whose steady brows, in union bright,
The civic wreath and Christian's palm unite:
Your merit stands, no greater and no less,
Without, or with the varnish of success:
But seek no more to break a nation's fall,
For ye have saved yourselves—and that is all.
Succeeding times your struggles, and their sate,
With mingled shame and triumph shall relate;
While faithful History, in her various page,
Marking the features of this motley age,
· On the Rejection of the Bill for Abolishing the Slave Trade, 1791.
To shed a glory, and to fix a stain,
Tells how you strove, and that you ștrove in vain.
YE ARE THE SALT OF THE EARTH.
stands the shame!
ence are found:
that honor wounds:
nts of ill;
ig, while you tell
le laugh of hell;
ce yet to come;
ng has borne
Salt of the earth, ye virtuous few,
Who season human-kind;
Light of the world, whose cheering ray
Illumes the realms of mind :
Where Misery spreads her deepest shade,
Your strong compassion glows:
From your blest lips the balm distils,
That softens mortal woes.
By dying beds, in prison glooms,
Your frequent steps are found;
Angels of love! you hover near,
To bind the stranger's wound.
You wash with tears the bloody page
Which human crimes deform:
When vengeance threats, your prayers ascend,
And break the gathering storm.
As down the summer stream of vice
The thoughtless many glide;
Upward you steer your steady bark,
And stem the rushing tide.
Where guilt her foul contagion breathes,
And golden spoils allure;
Unspotted still your garments shine
Your hands are ever pure.
Whene'er you touch the poet's lyre,
A loftier strain is heard ;
Each ardent thought is yours alone,
And every burning word.
Yours is the large expansive thought,
The high heroic deed;
Exile and chains to you are dear-
To you 'tis sweet to bleed.
You lift on high the warning voice,
When public ills prevail ;
Yours is the writing on the wall
That turns the tyrant pale.
And yours is all through History's rolls
The kindling bosom feels;
And at your tomb, with throbbing heart,
The fond enthusiast kneels.
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