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R. Did not the rigid censurers of vice,
And hoot the monster from the haunts of men?
D. Ah, no! he boldly drives his mad career,
R. If rich, ne'er mind what conscience saith within, Here poverty alone is all the sin;
If at a tavern you can pay your stake,
What if each day you each commandment break.
They train their offspring for a villain's hand;
They slight the mental beauties of their race;
From modest delicacy's chaste reserve.
But mark the lounge of fashionable fools,
And vanity runs riot with expense:
There coxcombs, hir'd to teach the tender fair
The wanton attitude, the wanton air,
Brush the fresh bloom from off the rip'ning plumb
And leave it mellow for the time to come.
STANZAS WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR.
AND it hath gone into the grave of time
The past-the mighty sepulchre of all !
That solemn sound-the midnight's mournful chime,
Low in the church-yard cell-cold-dark-and silently.
Strange time for mirth-when round the leafless
The wild winds of the winter moan and sigh,
Mute the wide landscape-save where, hurrying by,
Seeking the domeless wall-the turret's hoary height:
And yet with Nature, sooth, we need not grieve;
And friends on shore shall weep-and weep in vain, For, to the ruthless elements consign'd,
The seaman's corpse is drifting through the main, Ne'er to be seen by them-nor heard of e'er again!
Now o'er the skies the orbs of light are spread,
How still-how soft and yet how dread is all
Surely there is a language in the sky-
As the toss'd bark, amidst the ocean's foam,
Now gleams the moon on Arthur's mighty crest,
But hark! there comes a sweet and solemn tone,
It speaks of former scenes of days gone by-
And thaw the ice away, and bid the dreamer weep!
DRUNKENNESS is either actual or habitual; just as it is one thing to be drunk, and another to be a drunkard. What we shall deliver upon the subject must principally be understood of a habit of intemperance; although part of the guilt and danger described, may be applicable to casual excesses; and all of it, in a certain degree, forasmuch as every habit is only a repetition of single instances.
The mischief of drunkenness, from which we are to compute the guilt of it, consists in the following bad effects :
1. It betrays most constitutions either to extravagances of anger, or sins of lewdness.
2. It disqualifies men for the duties of their station, both by the temporary disorder of their faculties, and at length by a constant incapacity and stupefaction.
3. It is attended with expenses, which can often be ill spared.
4. It is sure to occasion uneasiness to the family of the drunkard.
5. It shortens life.
To these consequences of drunkenness must be added the peculiar danger and mischief of the example. Drunkenness is a social festive vice; apt, beyond any vice that can be mentioned, to draw in others by the example. The drinker collects his circle;