The Christian surmounts every difficulty, by his confidence in God.

Sweet moralist! afloat on life's rough sea,
The christian has an art unknown to thee:
He holds no parley with unmanly fears;
Where duty bids he confidently steers,
Faces a thousand dangers at her call,
And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all.

TRANSLATIONS FROM VINCENT BOURNE.

1. THE GLOW-WORM.

I.

BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream,

A worm is known to stray;

That shows by night a lucid beam,

Which disappears by day.

H.

Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;

Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.

Not any thing in Nature is made in Vain.

III.

But this is sure-the hand of might,

That kindles up the skies,

Gives him a modicum of light
Proportion'd to his size.

IV.

Perhaps indulgent nature meant,
By such a lamp bestow'd,

To bid the trav'ler, as he went,

Be careful where he trod :

V.

Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,

To shew a stumbling stone by night,

And save him from a fall.

VI.

Whate'er she meant, this truth divine

Is legible and plain,

'Tis pow'r almighty bids him shine,

Nor bids him shine in vain.

The Jackdaw, a Bishop-like frequenter of the Church.

VII.

Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme

Teach humbler thoughts to you,

Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendour too.

II. THE JACKDAW.

I.

THERE is a bird who, by his coat
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be suppos'd a crow ;

A great frequenter of the church,
Where bishop-like, he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.

II.

Above the steeple shines a plate,

That turns and turns, to indicate

From what point blows the weather. Look up your brains begin to swim,

up-your

'Tis in the clouds-that pleases him,

He chooses it the rather.

The Jackdaw, a Bishop-like frequenter of the Church.

III.

Fond of the speculative height,

Thither he wings his airy flight,

And thence securely sees

The bustle and the raree-show

That occupy mankind below,

Secure and at his ease.

IV.

You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.

No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,

Or troubles it at all.

V.

He sees, that this great roundabout-
The world, with all its motley rout,

Church, army, physic, law,

Its customs, and its bus'nesses,

Is no concern at all of his,

And says-what says he ?-Caw.

The Cricket a Harbinger of Good.

VI.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen

Much of the vanities of men;

And sick of having seen 'em Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em

III. THE CRICKET.

I.

LITTLE inmate, full of mirth,

Chirping on my kitchen hearth,

Wheresoe'er be thine abode,

Always harbinger of good,
Pay me for thy warm retreat
With a song more soft and sweet;
In return thou shalt receive

Such a strain as I can give.

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