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Courage.

He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer

The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrong His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,

To bring it into danger.

Mercy.

Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act;

By which heaven moves in pardoning guilty man.
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And conscious of the outrage he commits,
Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn.

Humanity.

I would not enter on my list of friends,

(Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility,) the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertant step may crush the snail,
That crawls at evening in the public path;
But he that has humanity, forewarn'd
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
Opportunity.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

Confidence in Divine Protection.
Man may trouble and distress me,
"Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh! 'tis not in grief to harm me,
While thy love is left to me;

Oh! 'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix'd with Thee.
Retrospection.

As turns the pausing trav'ler back,
At close of evening, to survey

The windings of the weary track,
Through which the day's long journey lay,
And sees by that departing light

Which fled so fast on field and meadow,
How distant objects still are bright,

When nearer things are sunk in shadow,—
Ev'n so the mind's inquiring eye

Looks backward through the mist of years,
When in its vast variety,

The chequer'd map of life appears;
And ev'n when life's declining years
Have ceas'd to paint the path before him,
The sunshine of her youthful days

Still casts a cheerful influence o'er him.
Music.

Deep as the murmurs of the falling floods;
Sweet as the warbles of the vocal woods:
The list'ning passions hear, and sink and rise,
As the rich harmony or swells or dies!
The pulse of avarice forgets to move;
A purer rapture fills the breast of love;
Devotion lifts to heav'n a holier eye,
And bleeding pity heaves a softer sigh.

The closing strain composed, and calm she play'd,
And sang no words to give its pathos aid;

But grief seem'd ling'ring in its lengthen'd swell, And like so many tears, the trickling touches fell.

Spring.

From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill,
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs,
And swells and deepens to the cherish'd eye.
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd
In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales.
Summer.

The bright-effulgent sun, Rising direct, swift chases from the sky

The short-liv'd twilight, and with ardent blaze
Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air:
He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends
Issuing from out the portals of the morn —
The general breeze, to mitigate his fire,
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world.

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Autumn.

Now the leaf

Incessant rustles from the mournful grove,
Oft startling such as, studious, walk below,
And slowly circles through the waving air.
Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields,
And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race
Their sunny robes resign. E'en what remain'd
Of stronger fruits, falls from the naked tree;
And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around,
The desolated prospect thrills the soul.

Winter.

The horizontal sun,

Broad o'er the south, hangs at his utmost noon,
And, ineffectual, strikes the gelid cliff:
His azure gloss the mountain still maintains,
Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale
Relents a while to the reflected ray;

Or from the forest falls the cluster'd snow,
Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam,
Gay twinkle as they scatter. Thick around
Thunders the sport of those, who, with the gun
And dog impatient, bounding at the shot,
Worse than the Season desolate the fields.

Reputation.

Good name in man and woman,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, no thing;

"Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands › But he that filches from me my good name, '

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed.

'Tis slander;

Slander.

Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons-nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.

Evening Sounds.

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close,
Up yonder hill the village murniur rose

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There as I pass'd with careless steps and slow,
The mingling notes came soften'd from below;
The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young,
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school,
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind,-
These all in soft confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Morning Sounds.

Up springs the lark,

Shrill-voic'd, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse
Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush,
Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads
Of the coy quiristers that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush
And woodlark, o'er the kind contending throng
Superior heard, run through the sweetest length
Of notes; when listening Philomela deigns
To let them joy, and purposes in thought
Elate, to make her night excel their day.
The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake;
The mellow bulfinch answers from the grove;
Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze
Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these,
Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shads
Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix
Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw,
And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone,
Aid the full concert; while the stock-dove breathem
A melancholy murmur through the whole.

CHAPTER II.

NARRATIVE PIECES.

SECTION I.

The Hare and many Friends.

1. FRIENDSHIP in truth is but a name,
Unless to few we stint the flame.
The child, whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.

'Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.
A hare, who in a civil way,
Complied with every thing like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train,
Who haunt the woods, or graze the plain.
Her care was never to offend;

And ev'ry creature was her friend.
2. As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from deep-mouthed thunder flies.
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round,
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half-dead with fear she gasping lay.

3. What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the horse appear'd in view!
"Let me," says she, "your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.

You know my feet betray my flight;
To friendship ev'ry burthen's light."
The horse replied," Poor honest puss!
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted, relief is near;

For all your friends are in the rear."
4. She next the stately bull implor'd;
And thus replied the mighty lord ;-
"Since ev'ry beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without offense, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.-
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see, the goat is just behind."

5. The goat remark'd her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye,— "My back," says he, "may do you harm; The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm." The sheep was feeble, and complain'd His sides a load of wool sustain'd; Said he was slow, confess'd his fears; For hounds eat sheep as well as hares. 6. She now the trotting calf address', To save from death a friend distress'.

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