Nor ceafe at eve, but with the setting fun
My endless worship shall be still begun.
And oh! permit the gloom of folemn night,
To facred thought may forcibly invite.
When this world's fhut, and awful planets rife,
Call on our minds, and raise them to the fkies;
Compofe our fouls with a lefs dazzling fight,
And fhow all Nature in a milder light;
How ev'ry boift'rous thought in calm fubfides!
How the fmooth'd fpirit into goodnefs glides!
O how divine! to tread the milky way,
To the bright palace of the Lord of Day;
His court admire, or for his favour fue,
Or leagues of friendship with his faints renew;
Pleas'd to look down, and fee the world afleep;
While I long vigils to its Founder keep!
Canft thou not fhake the centre? Oh control, Subdue by force, the rebel in my foul;
Thou, who canft ftill the raging of the flood,
Restrain the various tumults of my blood;
Teach me, with equal firmnefs to sustain
Alluring Pleasure, and affaulting Pain.
O may I pant for thee in each defire!
And with strong faith foment the holy fire!
Stretch out my foul in hope, and grasp the prize,
Which in Eternity's deep bofom lies!
At the great day of recompenfe behold,
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold!
Then wafted upward to the blissful feat,
From age to age my grateful fong repeat;
My Light, my Life, my God, my Saviour fee,
And rival angels in the praise of thee!
SECTION VIL 、 1
The Purfuit of Happiness often ill-directed.
THE midnight moon ferenely fmiles
O'er Nature's foft repofe;
No low'ring cloud obfcures the sky,
Nor ruffling tempeft blows.
Now ev'ry paffion finks to reft,
The throbbing heart lies ftill;
And varying fchemes of life no more
Distract the lab'ring will.
In filence hufh'd to Reafon's voice,
Attends each mental pow'r :
Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy
Reflection's fav'rite hour.
Come; while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's fearch this ample round,
Where fhall the lovely fleeting form
Of Happiness be found?
Does it amidst the frolic mirth
Of gay affemblies dwell;
Or hide beneath the folemn gloom,
That fhades the hermit's cell?
How oft the laughing brow of Joy
A fick'ning heart conceals!
And, through the cloister's deep recefs,
Invading Sorrow fteals.
In vain, through beauty, fortune, wit,
The fugitive we trace;
It dwells not in the faithless smile,
That brightens Clodia's face.
Perhaps the joy to thefe deny'd,
The heart in friendship finds :
Ah! dear delufion, gay conceit
Of vifionary minds!
Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,
To place its being in some state,
At distance from our own.
O blind to each indulgent aim,
Of pow'r fupremely wife,
Who fancy Happiness in aught
The hand of Heav'n denies !
Vain is alike the joy we seek,
And vain what we poffefs,
Unless harmonious Reason tunes
The paffions into peace.
To temper'd wishes, just defires,
Is Happiness confin'd;
And, deaf to Folly's call, attends
The mufic of the mind.
DEAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy and the proud,
In Folly's maze advance;
Tho' fingularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll ftep afide,
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world, we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,
Where love our hours employs;
No noify neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling ftranger near,
To fpoil our heart-felt joys.
If folid happiness we prize,
Within our breaft this jewel lies;
And they are fools who roam:
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own felves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
Of reft was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing the left
That fafe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excursion o'er,
The difappointed bird once more
Explor'd the facred bark.
Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs,
We, who improve his golden hours,
By fweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good,
A paradife below.
Our babes fhall richeft comforts bring;
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring
Whence pleasures ever rife:
We'll form their minds, with ftudious care, To all that's manly, good, and fair,
And train them for the skies.
While they our wifeft hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, fupport our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondeft loves repay,
And recompenfe our cares.
No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs! we envy not your state;
We look with pity on the great,
And blefs our humbler lot.
Our portion is not large, indeed;
But then how little do we need!
For Nature's calls are few:
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may fuffice,
And make that little do.
We'll therefore relifh, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has fent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very fmall,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lofe the prefent hour.
To be refign'd, when ills betidė,
Patient when favours are deny'd,
And pleas'd with favours giv'n:
Dear Chloe, this is wifdom's part;
This is that incenfe of the heart,
Whose fragrance smells to heav'n.
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