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With hopeless wish one looks and lingers; One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers; But they whom truth and wisdom lead, Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE. Book the 2d. ODE the 10th.

RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,

So shalt thou live beyond the reach
Of adverse Fortune's pow'r;

Not always tempt the distant deep,

Nor always timorously creep

Along the treacherous shore

He, that holds fast the golden mean
And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,

Nor plagues, that haunt the rich man's door, Imbittering all his state.

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The tallest pines feel most the pow'r

Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tow'r
Comes heaviest to the ground;

The bolts, that spare the mountain's side,
His cloudcapt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.

The well inform'd philosopher
Rejoices with a wholesome fear,
And hopes in spite of pain;
If winter bellow from the north,

Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,
And Nature laughs again.

What if thine Heav'n be overcast,

The dark appearance will not last;

Expect a brighter sky.

The God that strings the silver bow,

Awakes sometimes the muses too,

And lays his arrows by.

REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING. 387

If hindrances obstruct thy way,

Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen;
But O! if Fortune fill thy sail
With more than a propitious gale,
Take half thy canvass in.

A REFLECTION

ON THE FOREGOING ODE.

AND is this all? Can reason do no more

Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shore?
Sweet moralist! afloat on life's rough sea,
The Christian has an art unknown to thee.
He holds no parley with unmanly fears;
Where Duty bids he confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,

And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all.

THE LILY AND THE ROSE.

THE nymph must lose her female friend, If more admir'd than she

But where will fierce contention end,

If flow'rs can disagree?

Within the garden's peaceful scene

Appear'd two lovely foes,

Aspiring to the rank of

queen,

The Lily and the Rose.

The Rose soon redden'd into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,

Appeal'd to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.

The Lily's height bespoke command,

A fair imperial flow'r;

She seemed design'd for Flora's hand,

The sceptre of her pow'r.

This civil bickering and debate

The goddess chanc'd to hear, And flew to save, ere yet too late, The pride of the parterre;

Yours is, she said, the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;

And, till a third surpasses you,

Let each be deem'd a queen.

Thus, sooth'd and reconcil'd, each seeks

The fairest British fair:

The seat of empire is her cheeks,

They reign united there.

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