DISTILL'D amidst the gloom of night, Dark hangs the dew-drop on the thorn; Till noticed by approaching light, It glitters in the smile of morn.
Morn foon retires, her feeble power The fun outbeams with genial day, And gently, in benignant hour, Exhales the liquid pearl away.
Thus on Affliction's fable bed
Deep forrows rife of faddeft hue; Condensing round the mourner's head,
They bathe the cheek with chilly dew.
Tho' pity shows her dawn from Heaven, When kind the points affiftance near: To Friendship's fun alone 'tis given, To foothe and dry the mourner's tear.
ODE TO TRUTH.
TRUTH, fairesft virgin of the sky, With robes of light, and beaming eye, And temples crown'd with day;
Cafts round the world an equal eye,
And feels for all that lives.
If mind, as ancient fages taught, A never dying flame,
Still fhifts thro' matter's various forms, In every form the fame:
Beware, left in the worm you crush,
A brother's foul you find;
And tremble, left thy luckless hand Diflodge a kindred mind.
Or, if this tranfient gleam of day Be all of life we share; Let pity plead within thy breaft, That little all to spare.
So may thy hofpitable board
With health and peace be crown'd; And every charm of heart-felt ease. Beneath thy roof be found.
So, when deftruction lurks unfeen, Which men like mice may fhare ; May fome kind angel clear thy path, And break the hidden fnare.
MRS, BARBAUĻD,
DISTILL'D amidst the gloom of night, Dark hangs the dew-drop on the thorn; Till noticed by approaching light, It glitters in the fmile of morn.
Morn foon retires, her feeble power The fun outbeams with genial day, And gently, in benignant hour, Exhales the liquid pearl away.
Thus on Affliction's fable bed
Deep forrows rife of faddeft hue; Condensing round the mourner's head,
They bathe the cheek with chilly dew.
Tho' pity shows her dawn from Heaven, When kind the points affiftance near: To Friendship's fun alone 'tis given, To foothe and dry the mourner's tear.
ODE TO TRUTH.
TRUTH, faireft virgin of the sky, With robes of light, and beaming eye, And temples crown'd with day;
O thou, of all the cherub choir,
Best skill'd to wake the sweetest lyre, And chaunt the softest lay,
By him, who, 'midst his country's tears, Undaunted heard warm Friendship's fears, And fmil'd at racks and death; By Perfia's turban'd heroes bold, By all the Spartan chiefs of old, That bow'd thy thrine beneath;
By holy Virtue's veítal flame, By laurell'd honour's splendid name, And cheek bedimpled love;
O lift from thy majestic head
The veil that, o'er its treffes spread, Thy fairy fingers wove!
Thee, chafte Religion's virgin breaft, And Hope with fair unruffled vest, Their lovely fifter hail;
Simplicity, with lilied crown,
And Innocence, untaught to frown, And Peace that loves the vale.
"Toride, to fhoot with the arrow, and to fpeak truth,” were the three principal studies of the Perfian youths.
The demon that ufurps thy day, And cafts upon its blenish'd ray The poifon of his tongue; O bid him from thy dazzling fight Shrink back into eternal night, His kindred fiends among!
And in the horrors of his ftrain, Let Discord feek his yelling reign, Nor haunt thy paths ferene; While Guilt on ev'ry fullen wind Starts pale, and trembling from behind, His wild and wizard mien.
Then o'er thy flow'r-enamell'd way, In ev'ry guileless frolic gay,
Shall fport poetic youth;
While Britain, raptur'd at the found, Shouts to her echoing fhores around, Peace, Liberty, and Truth.
THE HAPPY MAN.
HE's not the happy man, to whom is given A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven; Whofe gilded roofs on fhining columns rife,
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