« PreviousContinue »
Oh! would that the world could but feel the
repose, Which the mind thus retiring unceasingly
For at morning or noon, in the evening or night, My Arbour is still the lov'd scene of delight.
To some secure and more than mortal height,
Cowper's TASK. B. IV. L. 93.
THOMSON'S AUTUMN. L. 1308.
1 A COMPANION I have, nay I'll call him a
Friend, With whom I pass many and many an hour; If serious my mood, or inclin’d to unbend,
To soothe, or delight me, possessing the pow'r. He sometimes partakes of my cheerful fire side,
At others the partner becomes of my walk, Hand in hand as we travel, the days quickly glide, Each moment brings profit with him whilst I
2 He's pious, he's learned, he's grave, or he's gay,
As chance may fall out, or occasion require, Bethe subject what will, he has something to say,
And other adyiser I seldom require. Without pride or anger he shews me my faults,
He reproves to my face, is no back-biting foe, And the fame of a friend, Oh! he never assaults, And, sooner than wound, would all converse
3 Caprice and ill-humour ne'er enter his mind,
Of forms independent, he still is the same, For Noble or Learn'd I was never declin'd,
Nor denied e'er to others who mention'd my
Tho' high his extraction, and nurtur'd with care,
No grand entertainments he ever requir’d, Full oft of my crust will he cheerfully share, And hath long held his talk as my embers expir'd.
4 To him it ne'er matters if ill or well drest, He turns not away, tho' by fashion I'm
scorn'd; E’en my days the most lowly have suited him
best, And my path of contempt hath he gladly
This friend hath a heart that is open to all,
At least unto all who will up to him look, He makes no distinctions of great or of small,
For all, if they please, find this Friend in
BY THE REV, T. B. GREAVES.
1 Tho' hot was the Sun in the morn when he
rose, And scorching his heat thro' the toil of the day, Yet cool and serene of his course is the close, And Labour reposes, and Care is away.
2 Thus oft from the morn, thro’ the noon of his life,
Toils man, led by turbulent ardour to grieve; But, cooling at length, he relinquishes strife,
With wisdom serenely enjoying his eve.
BY DR. HALLORAN.
1 In many a storm and many a fight
Ned Brace had borne an active part,
For Truth and Hondur buoy'd his heart;
2 'Gainst Frenchmen, and Mynheers, and Dons,
With brave St. Vincent, Howe, and Duncan, Ned with his shipmates plied the guns,
Till all were taken, fled or sunken; And still, 'mid storms, or battles' din, He felt a peaceful calm within.
3 Last with brave Nelson of the Nile,
His starboard leg was shot away; Food for some hungry crocodile.
What then? his comrades won the day ; And wounded 'midst the battle's din,
He felt a peaceful calm within.
4 But now, reluctant, lash'd ashore,
By orders that demand obedience, Ned ne'er must tempt the ocean more,
Till launch'd by Death for unknown regions ; And may he, then, 'mid fate's dread din, Outride the storm with peace within.