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For lift thy palfied head, shake off the gloom

That overhangs the borders of thy tomb,
See nature, gay as when the first began,
With smiles alluring her admirer man ;
She spreads the morning over eastern hills;
Earth glitters with the drops the night distils;
The fun, obedient, at her call appears

To fling his glories o'er the robe she wears;
Banks cloth'd with flow'rs, groves fill'd with
fprightly founds,

The yellow tilth, green meads, rocks, rifing grounds,

Streams edg'd with ofiers, fatt'ning ev'ry field
Where'er they flow, now feen and now conceal'd;
From the blue rim where fkies and mountains meet,
Down to the very turf beneath thy feet,
Ten thousand charms, that only fools defpife,
Or pride can look at with indiff'rent eyes,
All speak one language, all with one sweet voice
Cry to her univerfal realm, Rejoice!

Man feels the fpur of passions and defires,
And the gives largely more than he requires;
Not that, his hours devoted all to care,
Hollow-ey'd abftinence, and lean despair,

The wretch may pine, while to his smell, tafte, fight, She holds a paradife of rich delight;

But gently to rebuke his awkward fear,

To prove that what the gives the gives fincere,
To banish hesitation, and proclaim

His happiness, her dear, her only aim.
'Tis grave philosophy's abfurdeft dream,

That heav'n's intentions are not what they seem,
That only fhadows are difpens'd below,
And earth has no reality but woe.

Thus things terrestrial wear a diff'rent hue, As youth or age perfuades; and neither true : So Flora's wreath through colour'd cryftal feen, The rofe or lily appears blue or green,

But ftill th' imputed tints are thofe alone
The medium represents, and not their own.

To rife at noon, fit flipfhod and undress'd,
To read the news, or fiddle, as seems best,
Till half the world comes rattling at his door,
To fill the dull vacuity till four;

And, juft when ev'ning turns the blue vault gray,
To spend two hours in dreffing for the day;
To make the fun a bauble without ufe,

Save for the fruits his heav'nly beams produce;

Quite to forget, or deem it worth no thought, Who bids him fhine, or if he shine or not; Through mere neceffity to close his eyes

Juft when the larks and when the fhepherds rife; Is fuch a life, fo tedioufly the fame,

So void of all utility or aim,

That poor JONQUIL, with almost ev'ry breath,
Sighs for his exit, vulgarly call'd death:
For he, with all his follies, has a mind
Not yet fo blank, or fafhionably blind,
But now and then, perhaps, a feeble ray
Of diftant wisdom fhoots across his way,
By which he reads, that life without a plan,
As ufelefs as the moment it began,
Serves merely as a foil for difcontent

To thrive in; an incumbrance, ere half spent.
Oh! wearinefs beyond what affes feel,
That tread the circuit of the cistern wheel;
A dull rotation, never at a stay,

Yefterday's face twin image of to day;
While conversation, an exhausted stock,
Grows drowsy as the clicking of a clock.
No need, he cries, of gravity stuff'd out
With academic dignity devout,

To read wife lectures-vanity the text!
Proclaim the remedy, ye learned, next;
For truth, felf-evident, with pomp impress'd,
Is vanity furpaffing all the rest.

That remedy, not hid in deeps profound,
Yet feldom fought where only to be found,
While paffion turns afide from its due scope
Th' inquirer's aim-that remedy is hope.
Life is his gift, from whom whate'er life needs,
With ev'ry good and perfect gift, proceeds;
Beftow'd on man, like all that we partake,
Royally, freely, for his bounty fake;
Tranfient indeed, as is the fleeting hour,
And yet the feed of an immortal flow'r;
Defign'd, in honour of his endless love,
To fill with fragrance his abode above;
No trifle, howsoever short it seem,
And, howfoever fhadowy, no dream;

Its value, what no thought can ascertain,
Nor all an angel's eloquence explain.

Men deal with life as children with their play,
Who first misuse, then caft their toys away;

Live to no fober purpose, and contend
That their Creator had no ferious end.

When God and man ftand opposite in view,
Man's disappointment must of course ensue.
The juft Creator condescends to write,
In beams of inextinguishable light,

His names of wisdom, goodness, pow'r, and love,
On all that blooms below or shines above;
To catch the wand'ring notice of mankind,
And teach the world, if not perverfely blind,
His gracious attributes, and prove the share
His offspring hold in his paternal care.
If, led from earthly things to things divine,
His creature thwart not his auguft defign,
Then praise is heard instead of reas'ning pride,
And captious cavil and complaint fubfide.
Nature, employ'd in her allotted place,
Is handmaid to the purposes of grace;

By good vouchfaf'd, makes known fuperior good,
And bliss not seen, by bleffings understood:
That blifs, reveal'd in scripture, with a glow
Bright as the covenant-ensuring bow,
Fires all his feelings with a noble scorn
Of fenfual evil, and thus Hope is born.
Hope fets the stamp of vanity on all

That men have deem'd substantial fince the fall,

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