Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years flide foft away;
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.

Sound fleep by night, ftudy and ease
Together mix'd; fweet recreation!
And innocence, which moft does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die ;

Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL,

[POPE.]

VITAL fpark of heavenly flame !

Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, ceafe thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life!

Hark! they whisper; angels fay,
Sifter Spirit, come away!

What

What is this abforbs me quite,

Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight,. Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath ? Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death P

The world recedes, it difappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears.
With founds feraphic ring!

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy Victory ?

O Death! where is thy Sting?

HYMN ON GRATITUDE.

WHEN

[ADDISON.]

THEN all thy mercies, O my God,
My rifing foul furveys;

Tranfported with the view, I'm loft

In wonder, love, and praife.

how fhall words with equal warmth

The gratitude declare

That glows within my ravifh'd heart ?
But thou canst read it there.

To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,

Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in pray'r,

Unnumber'd comforts to my foul

Thy tender care beltow'd, Before my infant heart conceiv'd

From whom thofe comforts flow'd..

When in the flipp'ry paths of youth
With heedlefs fteps I ran,
Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe,
And led me up to man,

Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way,
And through the pleafing fnares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.

Whan worn with fickness, oft haft thou
With health renew'd my face,
And when in fins and forrows funk,
Reviv'd foul with grace.

my

Thy bounteous hand with worldly blifs

Has made my cup run o'er,

And in a kind and faithful friend

Has doubled all my flore.

Ten

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts

My daily thanks employ,

Nor is the leaft a cheerful heart,

That tafles thofe gifts with joy.

Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue ;
And after death in diftant worlds
The glorious theme renew.

When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,

My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy fhall adore.

Through all eternity to Thee

A joyful fong I'll raise,

For O! eternity's too fhort
To utter all thy praise

DOUGLAS TO LORD RANDOLPH.*

[HOME. ]

MALL is the fkill my Lord delights to praise

SMALL

In him he favours. Hear from whence it came.

Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote
And inacceffible by fhepherds trod.

In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand,

A hermit liv'd; a melancholy man,

Who was the wonder of our wand'ring swains.

See the Vignetee.

Auflere

Auflere and lonely, cruel to himself,
Did they report him; the cold earth his bed.
Water his drink, his food the fhepherd's alms.
I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd
With rev'rence and with pity. Mild he spake.
And, entering on difcourfe, fuch ftories told
As made me oft revifit his fad cell.

For he had been a foldier in his youth;
And fought in famous battles, when the peers
Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led,
Againft th 'ufurping infidel display'd

The bleffed cross, and won the Holy Land.
Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire

His speech ftruck from me, the old man would shake
His years away, and act his young encounters:
Then, having fhew'd his wounds, he'd fit him down,
And all the live-long day difcourfe of war.
To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf
He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts;
Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use
Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line,
The fquare, the crefcent, and the phalanx firm,
For all that Saracen or Christian knew

Of war's vaft art, was to this hermit known.

END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME.