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AN AFFLICTED PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE.
A STRANGER's purpose in these lays
The path of sorrow, and that path, alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown; No trav'ller ever reach'd that blest abode, Who found not thorns and briars in his road. EPISTLE TO A LADY IN FRANCE. 429 The world may dance along the flow'ry plain, Cheer'd as they go by many a sprightly strain, Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread, With unshod feet they yet securely tread, .. Admonish'd, scorn the caution and the friend, . Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end. But he, who knew what human hearts would prove, How slow to learn the dictates of his love, That hard by nature and of stubborn will, A life of ease would make them harder still, . In pity to the souls his grace design’d To rescue from the ruins of mankind, Call’d for a cloud to darken all their years, And said, “ Go, spend them in the vale of tears." O balmy gales of soul-reviving air, O salutary streams that murmur there, These flowing from the fount of grace above, Those breath'd from lips of everlasting love! The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys, Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys, An envious world will interpose its frown To mar delights superior to its own,
And many a pang, experienc'd still within,
Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast
UNWIN, I should but ill repay
The kindness of a friend,
As ever friendship penn'd,
A union formed, as mine with thee,
Not rashly, nor in sport,
And faithful in its sort,
The bud inserted in the rind,
The bud of peach or rose,
The stock whereon it grows,
With flow'r as sweet, or fruit aş fair,
Not rich, I render what I may,
I seize thy name in haste,
Lest this should prove the last.
The poet's lyre, to fix his fame,
Should be the poet's heart;
Than ever blaz’d by art.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
1. Bensiey, Printer, ? Tolt Court, Fleet Street, London,