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The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in ; Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head,

Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.

Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, • Detested wretch'-but scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man: His youthful face grew more serenely sweet, His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair; Celestial odours breathe through purpled air; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display; The form ethereal bursts upon his sight, And moves in all the majesty of light.

Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew,
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do;
Surprize in secret chains his word suspends,
And in a calm his settling temper ends.
But silence here the beauteous angel broke,
(The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke.)

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Thy pray'r, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne:

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These charms, success in our bright region find,
And force an angel down, to calm thy mind;
For this commission'd I forsook the sky:
Nay, cease to kneel-thy fellow servant I.
Then know the truth of government divine,
And let these scruples be no longer thine.

The Maker justly claims that world he made :
In this the right of providence is laid:
Its sacred majesty through all depends

On using second means to work his ends:
'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye,
The Power exerts his attributes on high,
Your actions uses, nor controuls your will,
And bids the doubting sons of men be still.

• What strange events can strike with more surprize, Than those which lately struck thy wond'ring eyes? Yet taught by these, confess th' Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!

The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food,
Whose life was too luxurious to be good;
Who made his iv'ry stands with goblets shine,
And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine,
Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost,
And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.

‹ The mean suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wand'ring poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That heav'n can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loose from dross, the silver runs below.

'Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And measur'd back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run ? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow.) The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns, in tears, the punishment was just. But how had all his fortune felt a wrack, Had that false servant sped in safety back? This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, And what a fund of charity would fail!

‹ Thus heav'n instructs thy mind: this trial o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more.'

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, The sage stood wond'ring as the seraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha, when to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky: The fiery pomp ascending left the view; The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too.

The bending hermit here a pray'r begun, Lord! as in heav'n, on earth thy will be done. Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place, And pass'd a life of piety and peace.

THE EMIGRANT:

AN ECLOGUE.

[HON. H. ERSKINE.]
1773.

Nos patriæ fines et dulcia linquimus arva,
Nos patriam fugimus.

FAST by the margin of a mossy rill,

VIRG.

That wander'd gurgling down a heath-clad hill,
An ancient shepherd stood, opprest with woe,
And ey'd the ocean's flood that foam❜d below,
Where, gently rocking on the rising tide,
A ship's unwonted form was seen to ride;
Unwonted, well I ween, for ne'er before,
Had touch'd one keel the solitary shore;
Nor had the swain's rude footsteps ever stray'd
Beyond the shelter of his native shade.

His few remaining hairs were silver gray,
And his rough face had seen a better day.

• Occasioned by the numerous emigrations from the Highlands of Scotland.

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