There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barb'rous climes, Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to meSince God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full- Myself in HIM, IN LIGHT INEFFABLE! *Come then, expressive Silence, muse His praise. Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, Cease, then, nor ORDER, imperfection name: All Chance, Direction which thou canst not see; All partial Evil, universal Good; And, spite of Pride, unerring Reason's spite, III-Description of a Country Alehouse GOLDSMITH. NEAR yonder thern that lifts its head on high, Where once the signpost caught the passing eye; Low lies that house, where nut brown draughts inspir'd; Where gray beard mirth, and smiling toil retir'd; Where village statesman talk'd, with looks profound, And news, much older than their ale, went round. Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlor splendors of that festive place; The white wash'd wall; the nicely sanded floor; Vain transitory splendors! could not all The host himself no longer shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be press'd, Shall kiss the cup, to pass it to the rest. IV-Character of a Country Schoolmaster-IB. BESIDE yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze, unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's disasters in his morning face: Full well they laugh'd, with counterfeited glee, At all his jokes-for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper, circling round, Convey'd the disinal tidings when he frown'd. Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault. The village all declar'd how much he knew, 'Twas certain he could write and cypher too; Lands he could measure, times and tides presage ; And e'en the story ran that he could guage. In arguing too the parson own'd his skill; For, e'en though vanquish'd he could argue still; While words of learned length and thund'ring sound, Amaz'd the gazing rustics, rang'd around; And still they gaz'd-and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew. V-Story of Palemon and Lavinia.-THOMSON. The lovely young Lavinia once had friends, And fortune smil'd, deceitful, on her birth. For, in her helpless years, depriv'd of all, Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale; By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty conceal'd. Together thus they shun'd the cruel scorn, Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet From giddy passion and low minded pride : Almost on nature's cominon bounty fed; Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, Content, and careless of tomorrow's fare. Her form was fresher than the morning rose, When the dew wets its leaves; unstain'd and pure, As is the lilly, or the mountain snow, Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, And many a holy text around she strews, Slow through the church way path we saw him borne, THE EPITAPH. HERE rests his head upon the lap of earth, Bid them be chaste, be innocent like thee; As firm in friendship, and as fond in love ; ('Twas e'en to thee) yet the dread path once trod, Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, And bids the "pure in heart behold their God." X-Extract from the Temple of Fame-POPE. And to the goddess thus prefer their prayer : 66 Long have we sought t'instruct and please mankind, With studies pale, and midnight vigils blind : But thank'd by few. rewarded yet by none, We here appeal to thy superior throne; On wit and learning the just prize bestow, For Fame is all we must expect below." The goddess heard, and bid the muses raise The golden trumpet of eternal praise. From pole to pole the winds diffuse the sound, And fill the circuit of the world around : Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud, The notes at first were rather sweet than loud : By just degrees they every moment rise, Spread round the earth, and gain, upon the skies. Next these, the good and just, an awful train, Thus, on their knees, address the sacred fane: "Since living virtue is with envy curs'd. And the best men are treated as the worst, Do thou, just goddess, call our merits forth, And give each deed the exact intrinsic worth." Not with bare justice shall your acts be crown'd (Said Fame) but high above desert renown'd Let fuller notes th' applauding world amaze, And the loud clarion tabour in your praise." A troop came next, who crowns and armor wore, And proud defiance in their looks they bore. |