A

PARAPHRASE

ON

THE LATTER PART OF THE SIXTH CHAPTER OF ST. MATTHEW.

WHEN my breast labours with oppressive care,

And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear;
While all my warring passions are at strife,
O, let me listen to the words of life!
Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart,
And thus he raised from earth the drooping heart:
Think not, when all your scanty stores afford
Is spread at once upon the sparing board;

Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While, on the roof, the howling tempest bears;
What farther shall this feeble life sustain,
And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?

Behold! and look away your low despair

See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them, nor stores, nor granaries, belong,

Nought, but the woodland, and the pleasing song;

Yet, your kind heavenly Father bends his eye
On the least wing, that flits along the sky.
To him they sing when Spring renews the plain,
To him they cry in Winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their music nor their plaint in vain :
He hears the gay, and the distressful call,
And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
Observe the rising lily's snowy grace,
Observe the various vegetable race;

They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow,
Yet see how warm they blush! how bright they glow!
What regal vestments can with them compare!
What king so shining! or what queen so fair!

If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven he feeds;
If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwise? or, are ye less than they?

SONG.

ONE day the god of fond desire,

On mischief bent, to Damon said,
Why not disclose your tender fire,
Not own it to the lovely maid?

The shepherd mark'd his treacherous art,
And, softly sighing, thus replied :
'Tis true you have subdued my heart,
But shall not triumph o'er my pride.

The slave in private only bears

Your bondage, who his love conceals;

But when his passion he declares,

You drag him at your chariot-wheels.

SONG.

HARD is the fate of him who loves,

Yet dares not tell his trembling pain,

But to the sympathetic groves,

But to the lonely listening plain.

Oh! when she blesses next your shade,

Oh! when her footsteps next are seen In flowery tracks along the mead,

VOL. 1.

In fresher mazes o'er the green,

T

Ye gentle spirits of the vale,

To whom the tears of love are dear,

From dying lilies waft a gale,

And sigh my sorrows in her ear.

Oh tell her what she cannot blame,

Though fear my tongue must ever bind;

Oh tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotless soul refin'd.

Not her own guardian angel eyes
With chaster tenderness his care,
purer her own wishes rise,
Not holier her own sighs in prayer.

Not

But if, at first, her virgin fear

Should start at love's suspected name, With that of friendship sooth her earTrue love and friendship are the same.

SONG.

UNLESS with my Amanda blest,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower; Unless to deck her sweeter breast,

In vain I rear the breathing flower.

Awaken'd by the genial year,

In vain the birds around me sing; In vain the freshening fields appear: Without my love there is no spring.

FOR

SONG.

ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove

An unrelenting foe to love,

And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part:

Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the soul away;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone?

But busy busy still art thou,

To bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
To join the gentle to the rude.

For once, O Fortune! hear my prayer,

And I absolve thy future care;

All other blessings I resign,

Make but the dear Amanda mine.

SONG.

COME, gentle god of soft desire,

Come and possess my happy breast,

Not Fury-like in flames and fire,

Or frantic Folly's wildness drest;

But come in Friendship's angel-guise: Yet dearer thou than friendship art,

More tender spirit in thy eyes,

More sweet emotions at the heart.