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Thy gentle flows of guiltless joys
On fools and villains ne'er defcends;
In vain for thee the tyrant fighs,

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Directrefs of the brave and juft,

O guide us thro' Life's darkfome way I
And let the tortures of mistrúft
On selfish bosoms only prey.

Nor fhall thine ardours ceafe to glow,
When fouls to peaceful climes remove,
What rais'd our virtues here below,
Shall aid our happiness above.

JOHNSON.

ODE TO MORNING.

HAIL, rofeate Morn! returning light!
To thee the fable Queen of Night
Reluctant yields her sway;

And as the quits the dappled skies,
On glories, greater glories rife,
To greet the dawning day.

O'er tufted meads gay Flora trips,
Arabia's fpices fcent her lips;

Her head with rofe-bads crown'd:

Mild Zephyr haftes to snatch a kiss;
And, fluttering with the tranfient blifs,
Wafts fragrance all around.

The dew-drops, daughters of the man,
With fpangles every bush adorn,

And all the broider'd vales;

Their voice to thee the linnets raife,
The lark, foft-trilling in thy praise,
Aurora, rifing, hails!

While Nature, now in lively vest

Of gloffy green, has gaily drefs'd

Each tributary plain;

While blooming flowers, and bloffom'd trees, Soft waving with the vernal breeze,

Exult beneath thy reign;

Shall I, with drowfy poppies crown'd,
By fleep in filken fetters bound,
The downy god obey?

Ah, no! thro' yon embowering grove,
Or winding valley, let me rove,

And own thy chearful fway!

For fhort-liv'd are thy pleasing powers &
Pafs but a few uncertain hours,

And we no more shall trace

Thy dimpled cheek and brow ferene;
Or clouds may gloom the finiling fcene,
And frowns deform thý face.

So in life's youthful bloomy prime
We fport away the fleeting time,
Regardless of our fate;"

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But by fome unexpected blow,
Our giddy follies we shall know,

And mourn them when too late.

PENNINGTONY

THE ATHEIST AND THE ACORN. METHINKS the world feems oddly made And every thing amifs,

A dull complaining Atheift faid,

As ftretched he lay beneath the fhade,

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And inftanced in this.

"Behold," quoth he, that mighty thing, "A pumpkin large and round,

"Is held but by a little ftring,

"Which upwards cannot make it spring,

"Nor bear it from the ground.

While on this Oak an acorn small, "So difproportion'd grows, "That whofoe er furveys this all"This univerfal, casual ball,

"Its ill contrivance knows.

"My better judgment would have hung
"The pumpkin on the tree;
"And left the acorn flightly ftrung,'
"'Mong things that on the furface fprung,
"And weak and feeble be."

No more the caviller could say,
No farther faults defcry;
For upwards gazing as he lay,
An acorn loofened from its spray

Fell down upon his eye.

The wounded part with tears ran o'er,

As punish'd for the fin:

"Fool! had that bough a pumpkin bore,

66 Thy whimfies would have work'd no more, "Nor skull have kept them in.".

ANON.

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CHILDHOOD, happiest stage of life!
Free from care, and free from ftrife,
Free from Memory's ruthless reign,
Fraught with scenes of former pain;
Free from fancy's cruel skill,
Fabricating future ill;

Time, when all that meets the view,
All can charm for all is new ;
How thy long-loft hours I mourn,"
Never, never to return!

Then to tofs the circling ball,
Caught rebounding from the wall;
Then the mimic fhip to guide
Down the kennel's dusky tide;
Then the hoop's revolving pace
Thro' the dirty street to chase:
O what joy!-it once was mine,
Childhood, matchlefs boon of thine!
How thy long-loft hours I mourn,
Never, never to return!

SCOTT.

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