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Pity.

No radiant pearl which crested fortune wears,
No gem that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears,
Not the bright stars which night's blue arch adorn,
Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn,
Shine with such lustre as the tear that breaks
For others' woe down Virtue's manly cheeks.

DARWIN.

Content.

How clad with smiles the vernal morn !
How gay the bloom-bespangled thorn!
The lark is up, the welkin rings,
And with his flock the shepherd sings:
O! let my days with his be spent,
In rural shades with mild content.

The blackbird warbles on the bough,
The milkmaid sings beneath her cow;
The mower, up with early dawn,
Prepares to fleece the clover'd lawn;
The farmer views his blooming wheat,
And starts the levʼret from her seat;
Whilst I this lonely vale frequent,
To muse the praises of content.

Pleas'd

Pleas'd with my little flock of sheep
That on my native downs I keep,
Mine are the joys of peace and health,
And sure I want no greater wealth:
No vain desires my soul infest,
Nor dwells ambition in my breast:
Heaven, all such follies to prevent,

Tamed all my thoughts to soft content.

WILLIAMS.

Fame.

NOR Fame I slight, nor for her favours call;
She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at all.
But if the purchase costs so dear a price
As soothing folly, or exalting vice;

O if the muse must flatter lawless sway,
And follow still where fortune leads the way;
Or if no basis bear my rising name,

But the fall'n ruins of another's fame;

Then teach me, Heav'n! to scorn the guilty bays, Drive from my breast that wretched thirst of

praise;

Unblemish'd let me live or die unknown,

O grant an honest fame or grant me none!

POPE.

Morning

Morning Sounds.

BUT who the melodies of morn can tell :

The wild brook babbling down the mountain's side;
The lowing herd, the sheep-fold's simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried
In the lone valley, echoing far and wide,
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean tide;
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.

The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark;

Crown'd with her pail the tripping milk-maid sings;
The whistling ploughman stalks a field; and hark!
Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings;
Thro' rustling corn the hare astonish'd springs;
Slow tolls the village bell the drowsy hour;
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower,
And shrill lark carols clear from his aërial tour.

BEATTIE.

Candour.

Candour.

LET universal candour still,

Clear as yon heav'n-reflecting rill,
Preserve my open mind;

Nor this nor that man's crooked ways

One sordid doubt within me raise
To injure human-kind.

AKENSIDE.

A Wish.

LET wealth, let fame, those dazzling gifts of fate Bless all the wayward sons of pomp and state; Be mine the riches of a soul refin'd,

The heart benevolent, the spotless mind,

To heaven's unerring will, in humble hope re. sign'd!

WILLIAMS.

To Leven Water.

PURE stream! in whose transparent wave
My youthful limbs I wont to lave;

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No torrents stain thy limpid source; No rocks impede thy dimpling course That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread; While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood; The springing trout in speckled pride; The salmon, monarch of the tide; The ruthless pike, intent on war; The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from their parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch, and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine. Still on thy banks so gaily green, May num'rous herds and flocks be seen, And lasses chanting o'er the pail, And shepherds piping in the dale, And ancient faith that knows no guile, And industry embrown'd with toil, And hearts resolv'd, and hands prepar'd, The blessings they enjoy to guard!

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SMOLLET.

The

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