Much hope, if thou our spirits take Who canst the wisest wiser make, Wisdom and bliss thy word bestows, A sun that ne'er declines, And be thy mercies show'r'd on those, Who plac'd us where it shines. STANZAS Subjoined to the Yearly Bill of Mortality of the Parish of All-Saints, Northampton *, Anno Domini 1787. Pallida Mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas, Regumque turres. Horace. Pale Death with equal foot strikes wide the door Of royal halls, and hovels of the poor. WH HILE thirteen moons saw smoothly run All these, life's rambling journey done, Was man (frail always) made more frail That so much death appears? No; these were vig'rous as their sires, And never waves his claim. * Composed for John Cox, parish clerk of Northampton. Like crowded forest-trees we stand, Green as the bay-tree, ever green, The gay, the thoughtless, have I seen, Read, ye that run, the awful truth, No present health can health insure For yet an hour to come; No medicine, though it oft can cure, And O! that humble as my lot, And scorn'd as is my strain, These truths, though known, too much forgot, I may not teach in vain. So prays your clerk with all his heart, And ere he quits the pen, Begs you for once to take his part, And answer all-Amen! COULD I, from Heav'n inspir'd, as sure presage And item down the victims of the past; How each would trembling wait the mournful sheet, Time then would seem more precious than the joys, Then doubtless many a trifler, on the brink Ah self-deceiv'd! Could I prophetic say Observe the dappled foresters, how light Had we their wisdom, should we, often warn'd, Sad waste! for which no after-thrift atones. Learn then ye living! by the mouths be taught |