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Spreads its peculiar crimson ; do not err, The loveliest still is wanting, the fresh rose Of innocence, it blossoms on their cheek, And lo, to thee they bear it! striving each In panting race, who first shall reach the lawn, Proud to be call’d thy shepherds. Want, alas ! Has o'er their little limbs her livery hung, In many a tatter'd fold, yet still those limbs Are shapely; their rude locks start fronı their brow Yet on that open brow, its deareft throne, Sits sweet Simplicity. Ah, clothe the troop In such a russet garb as best befits Their pastoral office: let the leathern fcrip Swing at their fide, tip thou their crook with steel And braid their hats with rushes, then to each Assign his fation; at the close of eve, Be it their care to pen in hurdled cote The fock, and when the matin prime returns, Their care to set them free; yet watching still The liberty they lend, oft shalt thou hear Their whistle thrill, and oft their faithful dog Shall with obedient barkings fright the flock From wrong or robbery. The livelong day Meantime rolls lightly o'er their happy heads ; They baik on funny hillocks, or disport In rustic pastime, while that loveliest grace; Which only lives in actions unrestrain’d, To ev'ry simple gesture lends a charma.

ODE TO TRUTH.

BY MASON.

SAS

,

AY, will no white-rob'd Son of Light,
Swift-darting from his heav'nly height,

Here deign to take his hallow'd stand;
Here wave his amber locks; unfold
His pinions cloath'd with downy gold;

Here, smiling, stretch his tutelary wand?
And you, ye host of saints, for ye have known
Each dreary path in Life's perplexing Maze

Tho' now ye circle yon eternal throne
With harpings high of inexpressive praise;

Will not your train descend in radiant state, To break with Mercy's beam this gathering cloud of

Fate?

'Tis filence all. No Son of Light
Darts swiftly from his heav'nly height:

No train of radiant saints descend.
" Mortals, in vain ye hope to find,
“ If guilt, if fraud has stain'd your mind,

“ Or Saint to hear, or Angel to defend." So Truth proclaims. I hear the sacred sound Burft from the center of her burning throne :

Where aye the fits with star wreath d lustre crown'd A bright Sun clasps her adamantine zone.

So Truth proclaims: her awful voice I hear :
With many a folemn pause it Sowly meets my ear.

“ Attend, ye Sons of Men ; attend, and say, Does not enough of my refulgent ray

Break thro' the veil of your mortality ?

Say, does not reason in this form descry
Ionumber'ú, nameless giories, that furpass
The Angel's floating pomp, the Seraph’s glowing grace?

Shall then your earth-born daughters vie
With me? Shall the, whose brightest eye

But emulates the diamond's blaze,
Whose cheeks but mock the peach's bloom,

Whose breath the hyacinths perfume,
Whose melting voice the warbling woodlark's lays ;

Shall the be deem'd my rival? Shall a form Of elemental dross,,of mould'ring clay,

Vie with these charms einpyreal? The poor worm Shall prove her contest vain. Life's little day

Shall pass, and she is gone : while I appear Flush'd with the bloom of youth through Heaven's

eternal year.

Know, mortals, know, ere first ye sprung,
Ere first these orbs in æther hung,

I shone amid the heavenly throug i
There eyes

beheld Creation's day,
This voice began the choral lay,
And taught Archangels their triumphant song:

Pleas'd I survey'd bright nature's gradual birth,
Saw infant Light with kindling luftre spread,

Soft vernal fragrance clothe the flow'ring earth,
And Ocean heave on its extended bed :
Saw the tall pine aspiring pierce the sky,
The tawny lion stalk, the rapid eagle fly.

Laft, Man arose, erect in youthful grace,
Heav'n's hallow'a image stamp'd upon his face,

And, as he rose, the high behest was given,

6. That I alone, of all the hoit of heav'n, " Should reign protectress of the godlike Youth:" Thus the Almighty (pake: he spake,and call’d me Truth.

CRUELTY TO BRUTES.

BY COWPER.

I

Would not enter on my list of friends

(Though grac'd with polish'd manners and fine ser fe Yet wanting fenfibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertant ftep may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path ; But he that has humanity, forewarn’d, Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. The creeping vermin, loathsome to the fight ,

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And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes
A visitor unwelcome into scenes
Sacred to neatness and repole, th' alcove,
The chamber, or refectory, may die.
A necessary act incurs no blame.
Not so when held within their proper bounds
And guiltless of offence they range the air,
Or take their pastime in the spacious field;
There they are privileged. And he that hants
Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong,
Disturbs the economy of nature's realm,
Who when the form’d, design'd them an abode.
The sum is this; if man's convenience health,
Or safety interfere, his rights and claims
Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs.
Else they are all the meanest things that are,
As free to live and to enjoy that life,
As God was free to form them at the first,
Who, in his fov'reign wisdom, made them all.
Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons
To love it too. The spring time of our years
Is soon dishonour'd and defiled in moft
By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand
To check then. But, alas ! none sooner Thoots,
If unrestrain’d, into luxuriant growth,
Than cruelty, most devilish of them all.
Mercy to him that shows it is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act

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