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Joseph Addison.


WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,

My rising soul surveys,

Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.

O how shall words with equal warmth
The gratitude declare,

That glows within my ravish'd heart?
But Thou canst read it there!

Thy providence my life sustain'd,
And all my wants redrest,
When in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.

To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,

Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in prayer.

Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd,


my infant heart conceived

From whom those comforts flow'd.

When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,

Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe
And led me up to man.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently cleared my way,

And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.

When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou
With health renew'd my face;
And, when in sins and sorrows sunk,
Revived soul with grace.


Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
Has made my cup run o'er;
And in a kind and faithful friend
Has doubled all my store.

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;

Nor is the least a cheerful heart
That tastes those gifts with joy.

Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.

When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,
My ever-grateful heart, O Lord,

Thy mercy shall adore.

Through all eternity, to Thee

A joyful song I'll raise; But O! eternity's too short

To utter all thy praise.



HE spacious firmament on high,


With all the blue ethereal sky,

The spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display;
And publishes to every land
The work of an almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,

The moon takes up

the wond'rous tale,

And nightly, to the listening earth,

Repeats the story of her birth;

Whilst all the stars, that round her burn,

And all the planets in their turn,

Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round this dark, terrestrial ball ?
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing as they shine,

"The hand that made us is divine!"


John Gay.


HATE the man who builds his name

On ruins of another's fame:

Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown,
Imagine that they raise their own;
Thus scribblers, covetous of praise,
Think slander can transplant the bays.
Beauties and bards have equal pride,
With both all rivals are decried:
Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature,
Must call her sister "awkward creature ;"
For the kind flattery's sure to charm,
When we some other nymph disarm.
As in the cool of early day

A poet sought the sweets of May,
The garden's fragrant breath ascends,
And every stalk with odour bends;
A rose he plucked, he gazed, admired,
Thus singing, as the muse inspired-


Go, Rose, my Chloe's bosom grace;
How happy should I prove,
Might I supply that envied place.
With never-fading love!

There, Phoenix-like, beneath her eye,

Involved in fragrance, burn and die.

Know, hapless flower! that thou shalt find

More fragrant roses there:

I see thy withering head reclined

With envy and despair!

One common fate we both must prove;
You die with envy, I with love."
"Spare your comparisons," replied
An angry Rose, who grew beside.

"Of all mankind, you should not flout us;
What can a poet do without us?
In every love-song roses bloom;
We lend you colour and perfume.
Does it to Chloe's charms conduce,
To found her praise on our abuse?
Must we, to flatter her, be made
To wither, envy, pine, and fade?"


ALL in the Downs the fleet was moored,

The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard.
Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among your crew.

William, who high upon the yard Rocked with the billows to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sighed and cast his eyes below: The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And, quick as lightning, on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast

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