ADRIANI MORIENTIS AD ANIMAM :

O R,

THE HEATHEN TO HIS DEPARTING SOUL..

AH, fleeting spirit! wand'ring fire!

That long haft warm'd my tender breaft,
Muft thou no more this frame infpire?
No more a pleafing, chearful guest ?-

Whither, ah whither art thou flying!
To what dark, undiscover'd fhore?
Thou feem'st all trembling, fainting, dying,
And wit and humour are no more.

VITAL fpark of heav'nly flame!

Doft thou quit this mortal frame?
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,.
O! the pain--the blifs of dying!
Ceafe, fond nature, ceafe thy ftrife:.
Let me languish into life.

My fwimming eyes are fick of light,
The leffening world forfakes my fight,
A damp creeps cold o'er ev'ry part,

Nor moves my pulfe, nor heaves my heart,
The hov'ring foul is on the wing;
Where, mighty Death! O where's thy fting?

I hear around foft mufic play,
And angels beckon me away!
Calm, as forgiven hermits reft,
I'll fleep, as infants at the breast,
Till the laft trumpet rend the ground:
Then wake with transport at the found!

THE END or ALL THINGS.

THE cloupt-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The folemn temples, the great globe itself;
Yea, all which it inherit, fhall diffolve,
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a wreck behind.

INCIDENTAL

INCIDENTAL MISERIES ATTENDANT ON POVERTY.

PITY the forrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door;

Whofe days are dwindled to the shortest span,
O give relief, and heav'n will bless your store.

Thefe tatter'd cloaths my Poverty bespeak,
Thefe hoary locks proclaim my length of years!
And many a furrow in this grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel of a ftream of tears;

Yon house erected on a rifing ground

With tempting afpect drew me from my road,
For Plenty there a refidence has found,
And Grandeur a magnificent abode.

Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor,
Here craving for a morfel of their bread,
A pamper'd menial forc'd me from the door
To feek a fhelter in an humbler fhed.

O take me to your hofpitable dome,

Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold, Short is my paffage to the friendly tomb,

For I am poor and miferably old.

Should

Should I reveal the fource of ev'ry grief,
If foft humanity e'er touch'd your breast,
Your hands would not with-hold the kind relief,
And tears of Pity could not be represt.

Heav'n fends misfortunes, why should we repine? 'Tis Heav'n has brought me to the state you

And

may

condition your be foon like mine, The child of forrow and of mifery.

A little farm was my paternal lot,

fee;

There, like the lark, I fprightly hail'd the morn, But ah! Oppreffion forc'd me from my cot, My cattle dy'd, and blighted was my corn.

My daughter, once the comfort of my age,

Lur'd by a villain from her native home,
Is caft abandon'd on the world's wide ftage,
And doom'd in fcanty Poverty to roam.

My tender wife, sweet soother of my care,
Struck with fad anguish at the stern decree,

Fell, ling'ring fell! a victim to Despair,

And left the world to wretchedness and me.

leve

VERSES WRITTEN BY A GENTLEMAN, ON SEFING HIS CHILD ASLEEP IN A CRADLE, JUST BEFORE HIS GOING TO PRISON.

SOFT babe, fweet image of a harmless mind!
How calm that fleep which innocence enjoys!
The fmiling cheek thou in thy flumber wear'ft,
Is nature's language for a gentle heart,
It fays: "All's peace within" it is thy right:
'Tis the bleft priv'lege of thy tender age
To wake or fleep in peace; to know no fears,
To dread no ill,--to smile on friend and foe.

What moral leffon does thy flumber teach ? This preaching ftrikes and mends a faulty heart. Come here, ye guilty, for it fpeaks to you; Tells what you loft, and what you'll ne'er regain: Where dwells the pow'r a wounded mind to heal? Attend, ye mifers! all your wealth can't lure This flumber to your bed; unbrib'd it drops The downy wing upon this infant brow.

Liften ye heroes, kings, or higher names, (If fuch there be); can minds with cooleft thought To bloodshed train'd, fuch peaceful moments tafte ? Sleep like that babe, and I'll unfheath my sword. Could gazing catch the flow'r of cordial

peace,

My