-Placidaque ibi demum morte quievit.


There calm at length he breathed his foul away.

"OH moft delightful hour by man

"Experienced here below, "The hour that terminates his fpan,

"His folly, and his woe!

"Worlds fhould not bribe me back to tread

"Again life's dreary wafte,

"To fee again my day o'erfpread "With all the gloomy past.

"My home henceforth is in the skies, "Earth, feas, and fun adieu!

"All heaven unfolded to my eyes,

"I have no fight for you."

So fpoke Afpafio, firm poffeft

Of faith's fupporting rod,
Then breathed his foul into its reft,
The bofom of his God.

He was a man among the few
Sincere on virtue's fide;

And all his ftrength from fcripture drew,
To hourly ufe applied.

That rule he prized, by that he feared,
He hated, hoped, and loved;

Nor ever frowned, or fad appeared,
But when his heart had roved.

For he was frail as thou or I,
And evil felt within;

But when he felt it, heaved a figh,
And loathed the thought of fin.

Such lived Afpafio; and at laft
Called up from Earth to Heaven,

The gulph of death triumphant paffed,
By gales of bleffing driven.

His joys be mine, each Reader cries,
When my laft hour arrives:

They shall be yours, my Verfe replies,
Such only be your lives.



Ne commonentem recta sperne.


Defpife not my good counsel,

He who fits from day to day,

Where the prifoned lark is hung,

Heedlefs of his loudeft lay,

Hardly knows that he has fung.

Where the watchman in his round

Nightly lifts his voice on high,

None accuftomed to the found,

Wakes the fooner for his cry.

So your verfe-man I, and clerk,

Yearly in my song proclaim

Death at hand-yourselves his mark—

And the foe's unerring aim.

Duly at my time I come,

Publishing to all aloud

Soon the grave must be your home,
And your only fuit, a shroud.

But the monitory ftrain,

Oft repeated in your ears,
Seems to found too much in vain,
Wins no notice, wakes no fears.

Can a truth, by all confeffed

Of fuch magnitude and weight, Grow, by being oft expreffed, Trivial as a parrot's prate?

Pleasure's call attention wins,

Hear it often as we may

New as ever seem our fins,

Though committed every day.

Death and Judgment, Heaven and Hell

These alone, fo aften heard,

No more move us than the bell

When some ftranger is interred.

Oh then, ere the turf or tomb
Cover us from every eye,
Spirit of inftruction come,
Make us learn that we muft die.

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