PROCRASTINATION. BE wise to-day: 'tis madness to defer ; That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still. Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, “That all men are about to live,' For ever on the brink of being born. All pay themselves the compliment to think They one day shall not drivel: and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise; At least, their own; their future selves applaud. How excellent that life-they ne'er will lead! Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool; same. And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves; Themselves, when some alarming shock of fate Strikes through their wounded hearts! the sudden dread. But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close, where, past the shaft, no trace is found. As from the wing, no scar the sky retains; The parted wave no furrow from the keel; So dies in human hearts the thought of death, E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds But what eternal? Why not buman race, And Adam's ancestors without an end?— That's hard to be conceived; since ev'ry link Of that long chain'd succession is so frail: Can every part depend, and not the whole? Yet grant it true; new difficulties rise; I'm still quite out at sea; nor see the shore. Whence earth, and these bright orbs?— Eternal too? Grant matter was eternal: still these orbs Would want some other Father-much design Is seen in all their motions, all their makes. Design implies intelligence and art, That can't be from themselves-or man; that art Man scarce can comprehend could man bestow? man. And nothing greater yet allow'd than [grain, Who motion, foreign to the smallest Shot through vast masses of enormous weight? Who bid brute matter's restive lump as sume [fly? Such various forms, and gave it wings to O'er those we love, -we drop it in their Has matter innate motion? Then each grave. ON THE BEING OF A GOD. RETIRE;-The world shut out ;-thy thoughts call home :Imagination's airy wing repress :Lock up thy senses;-let no passions stir; Wake all to Reason-let her reign alone; Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth Of Nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire : What am I? and from whence? I nothing know But that I am; and, since I am, conclude Something eternal: had there e'er been nought, Nought still had been: Eternal there must be atom, Asserting its indisputable right To dance, would form a universe of dust. Has matter none? Then whence these glorious forms And boundless flights, from shapeless and reposed? Has matter more than motion? Has it thought, Judgment, and genius? Is it deeply learn'd In mathematics? Has it framed such laws, Which, but to guess, a Newton made im. mortal? If art to form, and counsel to conduct, And that with greater far than human skill, Reside not in each block;-a GODHEAD reigns : And, if a GOD there is, that God how great! [SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE, LORD HAILES. EDWARD! EDWARD! "WHY does your brand so drop with blood? Edward Edward! Why does your brand so drop with blood, And why so sad go ye, O?" "O! I have killed my hawk so good, "Your hawk's blood was never so 'red, "O! I have killed my red roan steed, O! I have killed my red roan steed, "Your steed was old and ye have got Edward! Edward! more, Your steed was old and ye have got more, Some other dule you drie, O!" "O! I have killed my father dear, O! I have killed my father dear, "And what penance will ye drie for that? Edward! Edward! And what penance will ye drie for that? "I'll set my feet in yonder boat, "And what will you do with your towers and your hall? Edward Edward! And what will you do with your towers and your hall, That were so fair to see, O?" "And now, alas! for thy sad loss I'll ever weep and sigh; THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. For nee I only wish'd to live, It was a friar of orders gray Walk'd forth to tell his beads; And he met with a lady fair Clad in a pilgrim's weeds. "Now Christ thee save, thou reverend ftiar, I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine My true-love thou didst see." "And how should I know your true-love From many another one? "Oh, by his cockle-hat and staff, And by his sandal shoon. "But chiefly by his face and mien, That were so fair to view; His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd And eyes of lovely blue." "O lady, he is dead and gone! Lady, he's dead and gone! And at his head a green-grass turf, And at his heels a stone. For thee I wish to die." "Weep no more, lady, weep no more, Thy sorrow is in vain; For violets pluck'd, the sweetest shower "Our joys as wingèd dreams do fly, "Oh, say not so, thou holy friar, "And will he never come again? Will he ne'er come again? Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave, For ever to remain. "His cheek was redder than the rose; The comeliest youth was he; But he is dead and laid in his grave: Alas, and woe is me!" "Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, "Now say not so, thou holy friar, "And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth, And didst thou die for me? "But first upon my true-love's grave And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf That wraps his breathless clay." "Yet stay, fair lady, rest awhile Beneath this cloister wall; [SAMUEL JOHNSON. 1709-1784.] PREFERMENT. UNNUMBER'D suppliants crowd Prefer. ment's gate, A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great; Delusive Fortune hears the incessant call, They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. On every stage the foes of peace attend, Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end. Love ends with hope, the sinking states. man's door Pours in the morning-worshippers no more; For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, To growing wealth the dedicator flies; From every room descends the painted face, That hung the bright Palladium of the place, And smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions sold; See, through the hawthorn blows cold the To better features yields the frame of gold; wind, And drizzly rain doth fall." "Oh, stay me not, thou holy friar; "Yet stay, fair lady, turn again, And dry those pearly tears; "Here, forced by grief and hopeless love, To end my days I thought. "But haply, for my year of grace "Now farewell grief, and welcome joy For since I have found thee, lovely youth, We never more will part." For now no more we trace in every line |