O teach me in the trying hour, When anguish wells the dewy tear, To ftill my forrows, own thy power, Thy goodness love, thy juftice fear. If in this bofom ought but Thee Encroaching fought a boundless fway, Omniscience could the danger fée, And Mercy look the cause away. Then why, my foul, doft thou complain, Why drooping seek the dark recess ? .... Shake off the melancholy chain, For God created all to blefs. But ah! my breast is human fill- The fickness of my foul declare. But yet with fortitude refign'd, I'll thank th' Inflicter of the blow; Forbid the figh, compofe my mind, Nor let the gush of mis'ry flow. The gloomy mantle of the night, Wlil vanish at the morning light, Which God, my East, my Sun reveals. CHATTERTON, ON THE DEITY. WRETCHED mankind! void of both ftrength and fkill, Dextrous at nothing but at doing ill! In merit humble, in pretenfions high, Among them none, alas! more weak than I, But zealous heat exalts the humble, mind, Yet fuch the fubject, various, and fo high, But on that theme which ev'n the wife abufe, Abruptly to break off, wants no excuse. } While others vainly strive to know the more, Wishing that human power were higher rais'd, SHEFFIELD DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, THE GARLAND. THE pride of every grove I chose, At morn the nymph vouchfaf'd to place The flowers fhe wore along the day: Undreft at evening, when the found She chang'd her look, and on the ground That eye dropt sense, diftinct and clear, Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek: Diffembling what I knew too well, "My love, my life," faid I, "explain This change of humour: pr'ythee tell; That falling tear-what does it mean?” She figh'd' the fimil'd and to the flowers "Ah me! the blooming pride of May, "At dawn poor Stella danc'd and fung; The amorous youth around her bow'd: At night her fatal knell was rung; I faw, and kifs'd her in her fhrowd. "Such as he is, who died to day; Such I, alas! may be to-morrow: Go, Damon, bid thy Mufe difplay The juftice of thy Chloe's forrow." PRIOR THE HUSBANDMAN's MEDITATION IN THE FIELDS. WITH toilfome fteps when I pursue, O'er breaking clods, the pioughfhare's way, Lord, teach my mental eye to view My native diffoluble clay. And when with feed I ftrew the earth, Pleas'd I behold the stately ftem, Support his bearded honour's load; Thus, Lord, fuftain'd by thee I came To manhood, thro' youth's dangerous road. M |