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THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. FATHER of all! in ev'ry age,

In ev'ry clime, ador’d,
By faint, by savage, and by fage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ?
Thou great first-cause, leaft understood,

Who all my sense confin’d,
To know but this, that thou art good;

And that myself am blind.
Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill;
And, binding nature faft in fate,

Left free the human will.
What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more then Hell to Thun,

That, more than Heav'n pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives,

Let me not caft away ;
For God is paid when man receives;

T'enjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round.
Let not this weak, unknowing hand,

Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land

On each I judge thy foe.
If I am right, thy grace impart,

Still in the right to stay :
If I am wrong, oh teach


heart To find that better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,

Or impious discontent,
At ought thy wisdom has deny’d,

Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach nie to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I fee;
That mercy I to others shew,

That mercy shew to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly fo,

Since quicken'd by thy breath;
O lead me wherefo'er I

Through this day's life or death.
This day, be bread and peace my lot ;

All elfe beneath the sun,
Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,

And let thy will be done.
To thee, whose temple is all space;

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies !
One chorus let all beings raise !

All nature's incenfe rise!


A BOOK, a friend, a song, a glass,

A chaste, yet laughter-loving lass, To mortals various joys impart, Inform the senfe, and warm the heart. Thrice happy they, who careless laid Beneath a kind-embow'ring shade, With rosy wreaths their temples crown, In rosy wine their sorrows drown. Meanwhile the muses wake the lyre, The graces modest mirth inspire, Good-natur'd humour, harmless wit; Well temper'd joys, nor grave, nor light.

Let sacred Venus with her heir,
And dear IANTHe too be there.
Music and wine in concert move
With beauty, and refining love.
There PEACE shall spread her dove-like wing,
And bid her olives round us spring.
There TRUTH shall reign, a facred guest!
And INNOCENCE, to crown the rest.
Begone, AMBITION, riches, toys,
And splendid cares, and guilty joys!-
Give me a book, a friend, a glass,
And a chaste, laughter-loving lafs.


NEGRO SLAVES, IN A GROVE OF PIMENTO. STRANGER! whoe'er thou art, with rev’rence

tread, Lo! these, the silent mansions of the dead ! His life of labour o'er, the wearied slave Here finds, at length, soft quiet in the grave: View not, with proud disdain, th’unsculptur'd heap, Where injur'd innocence forgets to weep, Not idly deem, although not here are found The folemn aisle and consecrated ground, The spot less facred :->o'er the turf-built shrine, Where virtue sleeps, resides the power divine.

CONTENT. O'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren,

and bare, As wilder'd and weary'd, I roam, A gentle young shepherdefs fees my despair,

And leads me-o'er lawns-to her home :

Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had

crown'd, Green rushes were strew'd on her floor, Her casement, sweet woodbines crept wantonly.

round, And deck'd the fod feats at the door. We fat ourselves down to a cooling repaft,

Fresh fruits! and the cull’d me the best; While thrown from my guard, by some glances she

cast, Love Nily stole into my breaft! I told my foft wishes; the sweetly reply'd,

(Ye virgins, her voice was divine !) I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny'd,

But take me, fond shepherd--I'm thine.
Her air was fo modeft, her aspect fo meek!

So fimple, yet sweet, were her charms !
I kiss’d the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,

And lock'd the dear maid in my arms.
Now jocund together we tend a few sheep,

And if, by yon prattle, the stream, Reclin'd on her bosom, I sink into sleep, Her iinage still softens my

dream. Together we range o'er the flow rising hills, Delighted with

paftoral views, Or reft on the rock whence the streamlet diftils,

And point out new themes for my muse.
To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire,

The damfel's of humble descent;
The cottager, PEACE, is well known for her fire,

And shepherds have nam'd her content.

OLD earth, when in a tippling vein,

Drinks torrents of ambrofial rain,
Which the tall trees, by heat oppreft,
Drink from her kind maternal breafi:

Left angry ocean should be dry,
The river gods their stores supply:
The monarch of the glowing day
Drinks large potations from the sea :
And the pale empress of the night
Drinks from his orb propitious light:
All--all things drink-abftemious sage!
Why should not we our thirst assuage ?

THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN. NEAR yonder copse, where once the garden smild,

And still where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modeft manfion rose. A man he was, to all the country dear, And pafling rich with forty pounds a-year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nore'er had chang'd, nor wilh'd to change his place; Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashion’d to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain ; The long-remember'd beggar was his guest, Whose beard defcending Iwept his aged breast; The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd; The broken soldier, kindly bid to stay, Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away; Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of forrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn’d to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits, on their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began,


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