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,` Pale death with equal foot strikes wide the door WHILE thirteen moons saw smoothly run No; these were vigorous as their sires, Like crowded forest-trees we stand, The axe will smite at God's command, Green as the bay tree, ever green, The gay, the thoughtless, have I seen, With which I charge my page! No present health can health insure No medicine, though it oft can cure, And oh! 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, How each would trembling wait the mournful sheet Then doubtless many a trifler, on the brink Of this world's hazardous and headlong shore, Forced to a pause, would feel it good to think, Told that his setting sun must rise no more. Ah self-deceived! Could I prophetic say Who next is fated, and who next to fall, The rest might then seem privileged to play; But, naming none, the Voice now speaks to all. Observe the dappled foresters, how light They bound and airy o'er the sunny glade; One falls the rest, wide scatter'd with affright, Vanish at once into the darkest shade. Had we their wisdom, should we, often warn'd Die self-accused of life run all to waste ? Sad waste! for which no after-thrift atones ! Learn then, ye living! by the mouths be taught "O MOST delightful hour by man Experienced here below, The hour that terminates his span, "Worlds should not bribe me back to tread Again life's dreary waste, To see again my day o'erspread "My home henceforth is in the skies, I have no sight for you." So spake Aspasio, firm possess'd He was a man among the few Sincere on virtue's side; And all his strength from Scripture drew, To hourly use applied. That rule he prized, by that he fear'd, For he was frail as thou or I, And evil felt within: Such lived Aspasio; and at last Call'd up from earth to heaven, The gulf of death triumphant pass'd, By gales of blessing driven. His joys be mine, each reader cries, He who sits from day to day Hardly knows that he has sung. Duly at my time I come, Publishing to all aloud,- Oft repeated in your ears, Can a truth, by all confess'd Of such magnitude and weight, Grow, by being oft impress'd, Trivial as a parrot's prate? Pleasure's call attention wins, Hear it often as we may ; New as ever seem our sins, Though committed every day. Death and judgment, heaven and hell- No more move us than the bell O then, ere the turf or tomb Make us learn that we must die. Strange world, that costs it so much smart, Whence has the world her magic power? Recoil from weary life's best hour, The cause is Conscience :-Conscience oft Then anxious to be longer spared Man mourns his fleeting breath: "Tis judgment shakes him; there's the fear Pay-follow Christ, and all is paid; ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, FOR THE YEAR 1793. De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur. CIC. DE LEG. But let us all concur in this one sentiment, that things sacred be inviolate. He lives who lives to God alone, And ardour in the Christian race, A hypocrite's pretence? Who trample order; and the day If scorn of God's commands, impress'd The better part of man unbless'd Such want it, and that want, uncured Sad period to a pleasant course! Sabbaths profaned without remorse, TRANSLATIONS FROM VINCENT BOURNE. But scarce had given to rest his weary frame, And firm and free from pain the lion stood. Mute with astonishment the assembly gaze: A MANUAL, MORE ANCIENT THAN THE ART OF PRINTING, AND NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY CATALOGUE. THERE is a book, which we may call The ladies thumb it much. Words none, things numerous it contains; Ofttimes its leaves of scarlet hue A golden edging boast; Nor name, nor title, stamp'd behind, But all within 'tis richly lined, The whitest hands that secret hoard Preserve it in their bosoms stored, And form'd for various use, The largest and the longest kind A sort most needed by the blind, The full-charged leaf, which next ensues, The smaller sort, which matrons use, The third, the fourth, the fifth supply But still with regular decrease O! what a fund of genius, pent It leaves no reader at a loss Search Bodley's many thousands o'er! No book is treasured there, Of this was ever seen, Or, that contents could justly boast, AN ENIGMA. A NEEDLE small, as small can be, Yet though but little use we boast, The labour is not light; One fuses metal o'er the fire, The shears another plies, A fifth prepares, exact and round, To shape the point, employs awhile SPARROWS SELF-DOMESTICATED IN TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. NONE ever shared the social feast, Or as an inmate or a guest, Beneath the celebrated dome Where once Sir Isaac had his home, Who saw not (and with some delight Perhaps he view'd the novel sight) How numerous at the tables there, The sparrows beg their daily fare. For there, in every nook and cell, Where such a family may dwell, Sure as the vernal season comes Their nests they weave in hope of crumbs, Which kindly given, may serve with food Convenient their unfeather'd brood; And oft as with its summons clear The warning bell salutes their ear, Sagacious listeners to the sound, They flock from all the fields around, To reach the hospitable hall, None more attentive to the call. Arrived, the pensionary band, Hopping and chirping, close at hand, Solicit what they soon receive, The sprinkled, plenteous donative. Thus is a multitude, though large, Supported at a trivial charge; A single doit would overpay The expenditure of every day, And who can grudge so small a grace To suppliants, natives of the place? FAMILIARITY DANGEROUS. As in her ancient mistress' lap The youthful tabby lay, But strife ensues. Puss waxes warm, Ploughs all the length of Lydia's arm, Mere wantonness the cause. At once, resentful of the deed, She shakes her to the ground But, Lydia, bid thy fury rest; For she that will with kittens jest, INVITATION TO THE REDBREAST. SWEET bird, whom the winter constrains- In the well-shelter'd dwellings of man Who never can seem to intrude, Though in all places equally free, Come! oft as the season is rude, Thou art sure to be welcome to me. At sight of the first feeble ray, That pierces the clouds of the east, To inveigle thee every day My windows shall show thee a feast; For, taught by experience I know Thee mindful of benefit long, And that, thankful for all I bestow, Thou wilt pay me with many a song. Then soon as the swell of the buds Bespeaks the renewal of spring, Fly hence, if thou wilt, to the woods, Or where it shall please thee to sing: And shouldst thou, compell'd by a frost, Come again to my window or door, Doubt not an affectionate host, Only pay, as thou pay'dst me before. Thus music must needs be confest To flow from a fountain above; Else how should it work in the breast Unchangeable friendship and love? And who on the globe can be found, Save your generation and ours, That can be delighted by sound, Or boasts any musical powers? STRADA'S NIGHTINGALE. THE shepherd touch'd his reed; sweet Philomel And treasuring, as on her ear they fell, The peevish youth, who ne'er had found before She dared the task, and rising, as he rose, Thus strength, not skill, prevail'd. O fatal strife, ODE ON THE DEATH OF A LADY, WHO LIVED ONE HUNDRED YEARS, AND DIED ON HER BIRTHDAY, 1728. ANCIENT dame how wide and vast, To a race like ours appears, Rounded to an orb at last, All thy multitude of years! We, the herd of human kind, Frailer and of feebler powers; We, to narrow bounds confined, Soon exhaust the sum of ours. Death's delicious banquet, we Perish even from the womb, Swifter than a shadow flee, Nourish'd, but to feed the tomb. Seeds of merciless disease Lurk in all that we enjoy ; Some, that waste us by degrees, Some, that suddenly destroy. And if life o'erleap the bourn, Common to the sons of men, What remains, but that we mourn, Dream, and dote, and drivel then? Fast as moons can wax and wane, Sorrow comes; and while we groan, Pant with anguish and complain Half our years are fled and gone. If a few, (to few 'tis given) Lingering on this earthly stage, Creep and halt with steps uneven, To the period of an age; Wherefore live they, but to see Cunning, arrogance, and force, Sights lamented much by thee, Holding their accustom'd course? Oft was seen, in ages past, All that we with wonder view; Thee we gratulate; content, Should propitious Heaven design Life for us, as calmly spent, Though but half the length of thine. |