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The scatter'd gleanings of a feast

My frugal meals supply: But if thine unrelenting heart

That flender boon deny,

The chearful light, the vital air,

Are blessings widely given ; Let nature's commoners enjoy

The common gifts of Heaven.

The well-taught philosophick mind

To all compassion gives;
Casts round the world an equal eye,

And feels for all that lives.

If mind, as ancient sages taught,

A never-dying flame,
Still shifts thro' matter's varying forms,

In every form the fame:

Beware, left, in the worm you crush,

A brother's soul you find;
And tremble, lest thy lucklefs hand

Dislodge a kindred mind.

Or, if this transient gleam of day

Be all of life we share ;
Let Pity plead within thy breast,

That little all to spare.

So may thy hospitable board

With health and peace be crown'd; And every charm of heart-felt ease,

Beneath thy roof be found.


So, when destruction lurks unseen,
Which men like mice


fhare ; May some kind angel clear thy path,

And break the hidden fñare.



'W"Why gentle Hymen's filken chain

HY should our joys transform to pain?

i A plague of iron prove?: • Good Gods! 'tis frange, the chain that binds • Millions of hands, fhoald leave their minds

; At such a loose from love !'

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Hard by, a venerable priest,
Ris'n with his god, the fun, from reft; ... 1

Began his morning song:

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Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring stream;
The birth of fouls was all his theme,

And half divine his tongue.

He lang th'eternal rolling flame;
That vital mass that's still the same,

Does all our minds compose:
Whence fhay'd in twice ten thousand frames,
Whence differing fouls of different names

And different passions rose.

? The mighty Pow'r that form'd the mind,
One mould for ev'ry two design'd;

• Then bless'd the new-born pair :
This be a match for this," he faid;
Then down he sent the souls he made,

To seek them bodies here.

• But parting from their warm abodes,
They lost their fellows on the roads,

. And never join'd their hands:
• O cruel chance, and crossing fates !
• Our Eastern fouls have lost their matės

• On Europe's barbarous lands!'

Thus fang the wondrous Indian bard;
My liftening ear attentive heard,

Whilft Ganges ceas'd to flow:
« Sure, then,' said I, -- could I but see
The gentle nymph that twin'd with me,

I might be happy-too!'

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ROM lofty themes, from thoughts that foar'd on high,

And open'd wond'rous scenes above the fky,
My Mufe, descend ! indulge my fond defire ;
With softer thoughts my melting foul inspire,
And smooth my numbers to a female's praise :
A partial world will liften to my lays,
While Anna reigns, and sets a female name.
Unrivall'd in the glorious lifts of Fame.

Hear, ye fair daughters of this happy land!
Whose radiant eyes the vanquish'd world command:
Virtue is beauty ; but when charms of mind
With elegance of outward form are join'd;
When youth makes fuch bright objects ftill more bright,
And Fortune fets them in the strongeft light,
'Tis all of heav'n that we below may view,
And all but adoration is

Fam'd female virtue did this ifle adorn
Ere Ormond, or her glorious queen, was born:



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When now Maria's pow'rfal arms prevail'd,
And haughty Dudley's bold ambition fail'd,
The beauteous daughter of great Suffolk's race,
In blooming youth, adorn'd with ev'ry grace,
Who gain’d a crown by treason not her own,
And innocently fill'd another's throne,
Hurl'd from the summit of imperial ftate,
With equal mind sustain'd the stroke of Fate.

But how will Guilford, her far dearer part,
With manly reason fortify his heart?
At once she longs, and is afraid to know;
Now swift she moves, and now advances slow,
To find her lord ; and, finding, passes by,
Silent with fear, nor dare she meet his eye,
Left that, unask'd, in speechless grief difclose
The mournful secret of his inward woes.
Thus, after fickness, doubtful of her face,
The melancholy virgin fhun's the glass.

At length, with troubled thought, but look serene,
And sorrow foften'd by her heav'nly mien,
She clasps her lord, brave, beautiful, and young,
While tender accents melt upon


tongue ; Gentle and sweet as vernal Zephyr blows, Fanning the lily or the blooming rofe.

• Grieve not, my Lord; a crown indeed is loft! • What far outshines a crown we still may boast; A mind compos'd, a mind that can disdain " A fruitless forrow for a lofs so vain. • Nothing is loss, that virtue can improve • To wealth eternal, and return above ; • Above, where no distinction shall be known « 'Twixt him whom storms have shaken from a throne, • And him who, balking in the smiles of Fate, • Shone forth in all the splendour of the great: • Nor can I find the diff'rence here below • I lately was a queen-I ftill am fo,

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