· THE PINE-APPLE AND BEE. But still in vain, the frame was tight, And only pervious to the light;

Thus having wasted half the day,
He trimm'd his fight another way.

Methinks, I said, in thee I find
The sin and madness of mankind.
To joys forbidden man aspires,
Consumes his soul with vain desires ;
Folly the spring of his pursuit,
And disappointment all the fruit.
While Cynthio ogles as she passes
The nymph between two chariot glasses,
She is the pine-apple, and he
The filly unsuccessful bee.
The maid, who views with pensive air
The show-glass fraught with glittring ware,
Sees watches, bracelets, rings, and lockets,
But fighs at thought of empty pockets ;
Like thine, her appetite is keen,
But ah, the cruel glass between!


Our dear delights are often such,
Expos’d to view, but not to touch:
The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine-apples in frames :
With hopeless with one looks and lingers ;
One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers;..
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE. Book the 2d. OD E the ioth.

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Receive, dear friend, the truths I teach,
So shalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse Fortune's pow'r ;
Not always tempt the distant deep,
Nor always timorously creep

Along the treach'rous shore. ' .

He, that holds fast the golden mean,
And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,
Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,
Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,
Imbitt'ring all his state.

The tallest pines feel most the pow'r
Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tow'r

Comes heaviest to the ground;
The bolts, that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.


The well inform’d philosopher
Rejoices with an wholesome fear,

And hopes, in spite of pain;
If winter bellow from the north,
Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,

And nature laughs again.

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What if thine heav'n be overcast,
The dark appearance will not laft;

Expect a brighter sky.
The God that strings the silver bow
Awakes sometimes the muses too,
And lays his arrows by.

If hindrances obstruct thy way,
Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen ;
But oh! if Fortune fill thy fail
With more than a propitious gale,

Take half thy canvass in.



And is this all ? Çan reason do no more Than bid me fhun the deep and dread the shore?

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, furmounts them all.

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Beneath the hedge, or near the stream,

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

Disputes have been, and still prevail,

From whence his rays proceed; Some give that honour to his tail,

And others to his head.

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