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The rose.
The rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower,

Which Mary to Anna convey'd ;
The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower,

And weigh'd down its beautiful head.
The cup was all fill’d, and the leaves were all wet,

And it seem'd to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret,

On the flourishing bush where it grew.
I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd;
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas !

I snapp'd it-it fell to the ground.
And such, I exclaim’d, is the pitiless part,

Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart,

Already to sorrow resign’d.
This elegant rose, had I shaken it less,

Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile ;
And the tear that is wip'd with a little address,
May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.---COWPER.


Care of birds for their young,
As thus the patient dam assiduous sits,
Not to be tempted from her tender task,
Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight,

Tho the whole loosen'd spring around her blows,
Her sympathising partner takes his stand
High on th' opponent bank, and ceaseless sings
The tedious time away ; or else supplies
Her place a moment, while she sudden flits
To pick the scanty meal. Th’appointed time
With pious toil fulfill'd, the callow young,
Warm'd and expanded into perfect life,
Their brittle bondage break, and come to light,
A helpless family, demanding food
With constant clamour. O what passions then,
What melting sentiments of kindly care,
On the new parents seize! Away they dy
Affectionate, and undesiring bear


The most delicious morsel to their young ;
Which equally distributed, again
The search begins. Even so a gentle pair,
By fortune sunk, but form’d of gen'rous mould,
And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast,
In some lone cot amid the distant woods,
Sustain'd alone ty providential Heav'n,
Oft as they weeping eye their infant train,
Check their own appetites, and give them all. --THOMSON.


Liberty and slavery contrasted. Part of a letter written from

Italy by Addison,
How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores,
With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart,
The smiles of nature, and the charms of art,
While proud oppression in her valleys reigns,
And tyranny usurps her happy plains ?
The poor inhabitant beholds in vain
The redd’ning orange, and the swelling grain ;
Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines,
And in the myrtle's fragrant shades repines.
Oh, Liberty, thou pow'r supremely bright,
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Perpetual pleasures in thy presence reign;
And smiling plenty leads thy wanton train.
Eas'd of her load, subjection grows more light;
And poverty looks cheerful in thy sight.
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay;
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.

On foreign mountains, may the sun refine
The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine ;
With citron groyes adoro a distant soil,
And the fat olive swell with floods of oil:
We envy not the warmer clime, that lies
In ten degrees of more indulgent skies i
Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repipe,
Tho'o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine :

'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's isle, And makes her barren rocks,and her bleak mountains smile.

Charity. A paraphrase on the 13th chapter of the first

epistle to the Corinthians.
Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc'd or angel sung:
Had I all knowledge, buman and divine,
That thought can 'reach, or science can define ;
And had l pow'r to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw,
When Moses gave them miracles, and law :
Yet gracious charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast;
Those speeches would send up unheeded pray'r;
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A cymbal's sound were better than my voice;
My faith were form i my eloquence were noise.

Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins, and gentle hand, to guide
Betwixt vile shame, and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provok'd she easily forgives ;
And much she suffers, as she much believes
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives;
She builds our quiet, as see forms our lives;
Lays the rough paths of peevish mature eveni
And opens in each heart a little heaven.

Each other gift which God on man bestows,
Its proper bounds and due restriction knows;
To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power;
And finisbing its act, exists no more.
Thus in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail and prophecy shall cease ;
But lasting charity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall forever live;
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive

As through the artist's intervening glass,

observes the distant planets pass : A little we discover; but allow, That more remains unseen, than art cia shows

So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble eye intent on things above,)
High as we may, we lift our reason up:
By faith directed, and confirm'd by hope';
Yet are we able only to survey,
Dawnings of beams, and promises of day ;
Heaven's fuller elluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.

But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispellid;
The Sun shali soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne,
Then constant faith, and holy hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy :
Whilst thou, more happy pow'r, fair charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office, and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum'd thy flame,
Shalt still survive
Shalt stand before the host of heaven confest,
For ever blessing, and for ever blest.---PRIOR.


Picture of a good man.
Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing else than angel can exceed,
A man on earth devoted to the skies;
Like ships at sea, while in, above the world.

With aspect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs os sense, and passion's storm :
All the black cares, and tumults of this life,
Like barınless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slaye,
A mingled mob! a wandring herd! he sees,
Bewilderd in the yale ; in all unlike !
His full reverse in all! What higher praise ?
What stronger demonstration of the right?

The present all their care; the future bis. When public welfare calls, or private want, They give to fame ; bis bounty he conceals. Their virtues varnish nature; bis exalt, Mankind's esteem they court; and he his own.

Theirs the wild chase of false felicities;
His, the compos'd possession of the true.
Alike throughout is bis consistent piece,
All of one colour, and an even thread;
While party.colour'd shades of happiness,
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them
A madman's robe ; each puff of fortune blows
The tatters by, and shows their nakedness.

He sees with other eyes than theirs : where they
Behold a sun, he spies a Deity :
What makes them only smile, makes him adore.
Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees ;
An empire in his balance, weighs a grain.
They things terrestrial worship as divine :
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust,
That dims his sight and shortens his survey,
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound.
Titles and honours (if they prove his fate)
He lays aside to find his dignity;
No dignity they find in aught besides.
They triumph in externals, (which conceal
Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse :
Himself too much he prizes to be proud ;
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man.
Too dear he holds his int'rest, to neglect.
Another's welfare, or his right invade ;
Their int'rest, like a lion, lives on prey.
They kindle at the shadow of a wrong ;
Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heaven,
Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe:
Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his peace.
A cover'd heart their character defends ;
A cover'd heart denies him half his praise.
With nakedness his innocence agrees !
While their broad foliage testifies their fall!
Their po-joys end where his full seast begins :
Mis joys create, theirs murder, future bliss.
To triumph in existence, his alone;
And his alone triumphantly to think
His true existence is not yet begun.
His glorious course was, yesterday, complete :
Death, then, was welcome ; yet life still is sweet.


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