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'Twas thus by the glare of false science betrayed, That leads, to bewilder: and dazzles, to blind; My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade, Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. CO! pity Great Father of light! then I cry'd, Thy creature, who fain would not wander froni thee, Lo! humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride : From doubt and from darkness, thou only canst free,?

And darkness, and doubt, are now flying away, No longer I roam, in conjecture forlorn, So breaks on the traveller faint and astray, The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. See truth, love, and mercy in triumph descending, And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom! On the cold cheek of death, smiles and roses are blending; And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb !

P

Compassion.
ITY the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span,
Oh! give relief and heaven will bless your store.
These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years ;.
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel to a flood of tears.
Yon house erected on the rising ground,
With tempting aspect, drew me from my road,
For plenty there a residence has found,
And grandeur a magnificent abode.
llard is the fate of the infirm and poor!
Here as I crav'd a morsel of their bread,
A pamper?d menial drove me from the door,
To seek a shelter in an humble shed.
O ! take me to your hospitable dome;
Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold ::
Short is my passage to the friendly tomb,
For I am poor and miserably old.
Should I reveal the sources of my grief,
If soft humanity e'er touch'd your breast,
Your hands would not withhold the kind 'relief,
And tears of pity would not be represt.
Heaven sends misfortunes; why should we repine ?
Tis heaven bas brought me to the state you see :
And your condition may be soon like mine,
The child of sorrow and of anisery.

Aa?

A little farm was my paternal lot,
Then like the lark I sprightly hail'd the morn.;
But, ah! oppression forc'd me from my cot,
My cattle died, and blighted was my corn.
My daughter, once the comfort of my age,
Lur'd by a villain from her native home,
Is cast abandon’d on the world's wide stage,
And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam.
My tender wife, sweet soother of my care,
Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree,
Fell, ling’ring fell, a victim to despair,
And left the world to wretchedness and me,

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borné him to your door;
Wliose days are dwindled to the shortest span,
Oh! give relief, and heaven will bless your store.

Advantage of Peace. Oh first of human blessings and supreme ! Fair'peace! how lovely, how delightful, thou! By whose wide tie, the kindred sons of men, Like brothers live, in amity combin’d, And unsuspicious faith: while honest toil Gives ev'ry joy; and, to those joys, a right, Which idle barbarious rapine but usurps. Pure is thy reign : when unaccurs'd by blood, Naught save the sweetness of indulgent showers., Trickling, distils into the vernal glebe; Instead of mangled carcases, and scene ! When the blithe sheaves lie scatter?d o’er the field; When only shining shares, the crooked knife; And hooks imprint the vegetable wound; When the land blushes with the rose alone, The falling fruitage, and the bleeding vine. Oh, Peace! thou source, and soul of social life; Beneath whose calm inspiring influence, Science his views enlarges, art refines, And swelling commerce opens all her portsBless'd be the man divine, who gives us thee! Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang, Nor blow the giddy nations into rage ; Who sheathes the murderous blade; the deadly gud. Into the well-pild armory returns ; And every vigour from the work of death, To grateful industry converting, makes The country flourish and the city smile! Unviolated, him the virgin sings:;

Ind him, the smiling mother to her train,
Of him, the shepherd, in the peaceful dale,
Chants; and the treasures of his labour sure,
The husbandman, of him, as at the plough,
Or team he toils. With him, the sailor soothes,
Beneath the trembling moon, the midnight wave;
And the full city, warm from street to street,
And shop to shop responsive, rings of him,
Nor joys one land alone: his praise extends,
Far as the sun rolls the diffusive day;
Faras the breeze can bear the gifts of peace;
Till all the happy nations catch the song:

Progress of Life.
LL the world's

a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts ;
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant;
Newling and puking in his nurse's arms;
And then the whining school-boy with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like a snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Mlade to his mistress' eye-brow.' Then, a soldier
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation,
Evin in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd;
With eyes severe and beard of formal,cut,
Full of wise laws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth

age

shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
Ilis useful hose well sav?d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice
Turning again towards the childish treble, pipes,
And whistles in his sounds. Last scene of all
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

Speech in the Roman Senate.
САто. .

. Cæsar's approach has summon'd us together,

And Rome attends her fate from our resolves.
llow shall we treat this bold aspiring man?
Success still follows him, and backs his crimes.
Pharsalia gave him Rome. Egypt has since
Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cæsar's.
Why should I mention Juba's overthrow,
And Scipio's death ? Nuinidia's burning sands
Still smoke with blood. 'Tis time we should decree
What course to take. Our foe advances on us,
And envies e'en Lybia's sultry deserts.
Fathers, pronounce your thoughts. Are they still fix'd
To hold it out and fight it to the last?
Or, are your hearts subdu'd, at length and wrought,
By time and ill success, to a submission ;-
Sempronius, speak.

SEMPRONIUS.
My voice is still for war.
Gods! can a Roman senate long debate
Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?
No-Let us rise at once; gird on our swords;
And at the head of our remaining troops,
Attack the foe; break through the thick array
Of his throng'd legions; and charge home upon him.
Perhaps some arm more lucky than the rest,
May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage.
Rise, Fathers rise ! 'Tis Rome demands your help:
Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd citizens,
Or share their fate! The corpse of half her senate,
Manure the fields of Thessaly while we
Sit here delib’rating in cold debates,
If we should sacrifice our lives to honour,
Or wear them out in servitude and chains.
Rouse up for shame! Our brothers of Pharsalia
Point their wounds, and çry

aloud to battle:Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow; And Scipio's ghost walks unreveng'd amongst us:

CATO.

.
Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal
Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason,
True fortitude is seen in great exploits,
That justice warrants, and that wisdom guides;
All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction.
Are not the lives of those who draw the sword
In Rome's defence, entrusted to our care?
Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter,
Might not the impartial world, with reason say,

We lavish'd, at our deaths the blood of thousands,
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious ?
Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion.

Lucius.
My thoughts I must confess, are turn’d on peace.
Already have our quarrels fill'd the world
With widows and with orphans. Scythia mourns
Our guilty wars, and earth’s remotest regions
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome.
'Tis time to sheath the sword, and spare

mankind,
It is not Cæsar, but the gods, my fathers :
The gods declare against us, and repel
Our vain attempts.

To urge

the foe to battle, (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair) Were to refuse the awards of Providence, And not to rest in heaven's determination. Already have we shewn our love to Rome :. Now let us show. submission to the gods. We took up arms not to revenge ourselves, But free the commonwealth. When this end fails, Arms have no further use. Our country's cause That drew our swords, now wrests 'em from our hands, And bids us not delight in Roman blood Unprofitably shed. What men could do, Is done already. Heaven and earth will witness, If Rome must fall, that we are innocent..

САто. . Let us appear, not rash nor diffident.. Immoderate valour swells into a fault; And fear admitted into public councils, Betrays like treason. Let us shun 'em both.-Fathers, I cannot see that our affairs Are grown thus desperate. We have bulwarks round us. Within our walls, are troops inured to toil In Afric heats, and season’d to the sun, Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind us, Ready to rise at its young prince's call ; While there is hope do not distrust the gods; But wait, at least, till Cæsar's near approach Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late, To sue for chains and own a conqueror. Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time? No-let us draw our term of freedom out In its full length, and spin it to the last :: So shall we gain still one day's liberty. And let me perish; but in Cato's judgment,

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