A REFLECTION on the foregoing ODE. AND is this all? Can reafon do no more Than bid me fhun the deep and dread the fhore? Sweet moralift! afloat on life's rough fea, The Chriftian has an art unknown to thee; He holds no parley with unmanly fears, Where duty bids he confidently fteers, Faces a thousand dangers at her call, And trusting in his God, furmounts them all.

Tranflations from VINCENT BOURNE.

I. THE

GLOW-W OR M.

I.

BENEATH the hedge, or near the ftream,

A worm is known to ftray; That fhews by night a lucid beam, Which disappears by day.

II.

Difputes have been and ftill prevail
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,

And others to his head.

III.

But this is fure-the hand of might

That kindles up the fkies,. Gives him a modicum of light, Proportion'd to his fize.

IV..

Perhaps indulgent nature meant
By fuch a lamp beflow'd,
To bid the trav'ler, as he went,
Be careful where he trod:

Nor crufh a worm, whofe ufeful light
Might ferve, however fmall,

To fhew a tumbling ftone by night,
And fave him from a fall.

VI.

Whate'er fhe meant, this truth divine

Is legible and plain,

'Tis power almighty bids him fhine,

Nor bids him fhine in vain.

VII. Ye

VII.

Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since fuch a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its fplendor too.

II. THE JACK DAW.

I.

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

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

II.

Above the steeple fhines a plate,
That turns and turns, to indicate

From what point blows the weather,,

Look up your brains begin to fwim,
Tis in the clouds-that pleases him,
He chooses it the rather.

3

Fond of the fpeculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence fecurely fees

The bustle and the raree-show
That occupy mankind below,,

Secure and at his eafe..

IV.

You think no doubt he fits and mufes
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he fhould chance to fall ;-
No, not a fingle thought like that
Employs his philofophic pate,,

Or troubles it at all.

V.

He fees that this great round-about
The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, phyfic, law,

In cuftoms and its business

Are no concern at all of his,.

And fays, what fays he? Caw.

VI. Thrice

4

VI.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen
Much of the vanities of men,

And fick of having feen 'em,-
Would chearfully these limbs refign
For fuch a pair of wings as thine,
And fuch a head between 'em.

III.

THE CRICKET.

I

LITTLE inmate, full of mirth,

Chirping on my kitchen hearth;

Wherefoe'er be thine abode,

Always harbinger of good,

Pay me for thy warm retreat,
With a fong more foft and fweet,
In return thou shalt receive

Such a strain as I can give.

II.

Thus thy praise fhall be expreft, »

Inoffenfive, welcome gueft.