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THE ANGLER TO THE SLUGGARD.

SLEEP, sleep, thou sluggard, fear to rise,
Not made for thee are morning skies;
Thy midnight cup and aching head,
Still bids thee hug thy downy bed:
Enjoy thy bliss, if bliss to thee,

But leave the morning beam to me.

'Tis then for care I breathe a cure,
You also breathe, but not so pure;
I breathe the sweets of every hill,
You breathe the breath that helps to kill:
Enjoy the bliss, if bliss to thee,

But leave the morning beams for me.

'Tis then I hear the sky-lark rise,
You also hear your London cries;
Be such thy lot, the while I rove,
To hear the music of the grove:
Enjoy the bliss, if bliss to thee,
But leave the morning beams for me.

'Tis then I catch the dappled trout,
You also catch, but catch-the gout;
Whilst free from pain my limbs I use,
Beside the stream, or with the muse:
Enjoy the bliss, if bliss to thee,
But leave the morning beams for me.

'Tis then I view th' enamell'd fence,

And find a charm for

every sense;

You also view where flow'rs bespread,
But on the fence-shot fields-thy bed:
Enjoy the bliss, if bliss to thee,

But leave the morning beams for me.

'Tis then with spirits light and free,
I contemplate the busy bee,
By her pursuits improv'd, I cry,
"Here, sluggard soul, learn industry:"
Enjoy thy bliss, if bliss to thee,
But leave the morning beams for me.

O then, will you the hours destroy?
Kind nature fills my soul with joy,
Presents her choicest bloom to see,
And points the wond'rous deity:
Still boast the bliss, if bliss to thee,
But leave the morning beams to me.

Whilst bloom and verdure dress the thorn,
Let me, the angler, breathe the morn;
And should you scorn my humble lay,
Go, sluggard, sleep thy life away:
Enjoy such bliss, if bliss to thee,
But leave the morning beams for me.
Sporting Magazine.

THE ADIEU.

WRITTEN BY DR. DODD A FEW DAYS PREVIOUS TO HIS DEATH.

PEARLY fount and pebbled rill,
On whose margin gay and green,
Oft the playful prints so trim

Of my youthful feet were seen;
Why in murmurs thus bemoan
One so lost, and so undone?
Oh! what sorrows you renew;
Dearest natal place,* adieu!

Hills of health, and vales of flow'rs,
Oakham's glade, and Burleigh's wild;
Oft you've seen me 'midst your bow'rs,
While instruction led, and smil'd.

Oft, alas! but see no more—
Wreck'd on life's extremest shore!
Oh! what sorrows you renew !

School of science, ah, adieu!

Bourne in Lincolnshire, so called from its spring.

Pensive on the banks of Cam,
And augmenting it with tears,
For her son, majestic Clare,

Weeds again of mourning wears:
Antique buildings, arched bow'rs,
Witness to my studious hours,
What sad sorrows ye renew!
School of science, ah, adieu!

Truth-dispensing, healing, woe,
Cheering with the voice of peace,
Still with soft and grateful eye,
Gentle Ham her pastor sees;

Puts universal sable on,

And humbly sues before the throne:
Lov'd friends! what pleasures ye renew!
No, here I cannot say adieu! †

Welcome, hopes of heav'nly birth,
Sight of God, and songs of joy,
Converse, with the great and good,
The soul in virtue's best employ.
Oh! let me wing to these my way,
Lov'd friends, so zealous for my stay!
Then come, and all my joys renew,

Where never shall be said adieu !

Clare-hall, where the author studied-The foundress a widow.

+ West Ham in Essex; he had at first intended to be buried there, bus changed his mind.

SONNET.

WHILST thus I wander, cheerless and unblest, And find in change of place but change of pain; In tranquil sleep the village lab'rers rest,

And taste repose that I pursue in vain.

Hush'd is the hamlet now; and faintly gleam
The dying embers from the casement low
Of the thatch'd cottage; while the moon's pale beam
Lends a new lustre to the dazzling snow.

O'er the cold waste, amid the freezing night,
Scarce heeding whither, desolate I stray;
For me, pale eye of ev'ning! thy soft light
Leads to no happy home; my weary way
Ends but in dark vicissitudes of care;
I only fly from doubt-to meet despair.

Charlotte Smith.

THE SIGH.

THE smiling god of tender woes,
Before his mother's altar came,

Then heap'd it high with lover's vows,
And bade me sigh to light the flame.

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