And many a pang, experienc'd still within, But ills of ev'ry shape and ev'ry name Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast Far from the flock, and in a boundless waste! No shepherd's tents within thy view appear, But the chief Shepherd even there is near; Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain; Thy tears all issue from a source divine, And ev'ry drop bespeaks a Saviour thineSo once in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, And drought on all the drooping herbs around. TO THE REV. W. CAWTHORNE UNWIN. UNWIN, I should but ill repay The kindness of a friend, Whose worth deserves as warm a lay As ever friendship penn'd, Thy name omitted in a page, That would reclaim a vicious age. A union formed, as mine with thee, And may as rich in comfort prove, The bud inserted in the rind, The stock whereon it grows, With flow'r as sweet, or fruit as fair, Not rich, I render what I may, Lest this should prove the last. 'Tis where it should be-in a plan, That holds in view the good of man. The poet's lyre, to fix his fame, |