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Scorned in a world, indebted to that scorn
For evils daily felt and hardly borne,
Not knowing thee, we reap with bleeding hands
Flowers of rank odour upon thorny lands,
And, while experience cautions us in vain,
Grasp seeming happiness, and find it pain.
Despondence, self-deserted in her grief,
Lost by abandoning her own relief,
Murmuring and ungrateful discontent,
That scorns afflictions mercifully meant,
Those humours tart as wine upon the fret,
Which idleness and weariness beget; .
These,and a thousand plagues that haunt the breast,
Fond of the phantom of an earthly rest, .'
Divine communion chases, as the day "
Drives to their dens the obedient beasts of prey.
See Judah's promised king, bereft of all, it
Driven out in exile from the face of Saul, 's
To distant caves the lonely wanderer Aies, s'il
To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies. do
Hear the sweet accents of his tuneful voice, 1)
Hear him, o'erwhelmed with sorrow, yet rejoice;
No womanish or wailing grief has party
No, not a moment, in his royal heart;
"Tis manly music, such as martyrs make,
Suffering with gladness for a Saviour's sake;
His soul exults, hope animates his lays,
The sense of mercy kindles into praise,
And wilds, familiar with a lion's roar,
Ring with ecstatic sounds unheard before: ,
'Tis love like his, that can alone defeat
The foes of man, or make a desert sweet.
Religion does not censure or exclude
Unnumbered pleasures harmlessly pursued :
To study culture, and with artful toil
To meliorate and tame the stubborn soil; ·
To give dissimilar yet fruitful lands
The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands ;
To cherish virtue in an humble state,
And share the joys your bounty may create;
To mark the matchless workings of the power,
That shuts within its seed the future flower,
Bids these in elegance of form excel,
In colour these, and those delight the smell,
Sends nature forth the daughter of the skies, i
To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes;
To teach the canvass innocent deceit,
Or lay the landscape on the snowy sheet,
These, these are arts pursued without a crime,
That leave no stain upon the wing of time.
Me poetry, (or rather notes that aim
Feebly and vainly at poetic fame)
Employs, shut out from more important views,
Fast by the banks of the slow-winding Ouse;
Content if thus sequestered I may raise
A monitor's, though not a poet's praise,
And while I teach an art too little known,
To close life wisely, may not waste my own. .
TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX.
Verses addressed to a Country Clergyman complaining of the Disagreeableness of the Day annually appointed for
receiving the Dues at the Parsonage.
Come, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,
To laugh it would be wrong,
The troubles of a worthy priest
The burden of my song.
This priest he merry is and blithe .:.
Three quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like a sithe,
When tithing time draws near.
He then is full of fright and fears,
As one at point to die,
And long before the day appears
He heaves up many a sigh.
For then the farmers come jog, jog,
Along the miry road,
Each heart as heavy as a log,
To make their payments good.
In sooth, the sorrow of such days
Is not to be expressed, When he that takes and he that pays:
Are both alike distressed.
Now all, unwelcome, at his gates
The clumsy swains alight, With rueful faces and bald pates
He trembles at the sight. ,.
And well he may, for well he knows
Each bumpkin of the clan, Instead of paying what he owes; '.,.
Will cheat him if he can.
So in they come each makes his leg,
And flings his head before, And looks as if he came to beg, det
And not to quit a score... ;? in!