Aloud the speechless suppliant cries,
And utters, as it can,
The woes that in its bosom rise,
And speak its nature-Man.
That infant, whose advancing hour
Life's various sorrows try,
(Sad proof of sin's transmissive pow'r !) That infant, Lord! am I.
A childhood yet my thoughts confess, Though long in years mature, Unknowing whence I feel distress, And where, or what, its cure.
Author of Good! to thee I turn :
Thy ever-wakeful eye
Alone can all my wants discern,
Thy hand alone supply.
O let thy fear within me dwell,
Thy love my footsteps guide;
That love shall vainer loves expel,
That fear all fears beside.
And O! by error's force subdued,
Since oft my stubborn will,
Prepost'rous, shuns the latent good,
And grasps the specious ill;
Not to my wish, but to my want,
Do thou thy gifts apply:
Unask'd, what good thou knowest grant; What ill, though ask'd, deny.
WITH cheerful step the traveller
Pursues his early way,
When first the dimly-dawning east
Reveals the rising day.
He bounds along his craggy road,
He hastens up the height,
And all he sees and all he hears
Administer delight.
And if the mist, retiring slow,
Roll round its wavy white, He thinks the morning vapours hide Some beauty from his sight.
But when behind the western clouds
Departs the fading day,
How wearily the traveller
Pursues his evening way!
Sorely along the craggy road
His painful footsteps creep,
And slow, with many a feeble
He labours up the steep.
And if the mists of night close round,
They fill his soul with fear;
He dreads some unseen precipice,
Some hidden danger near.
So cheerfully does youth begin
Life's pleasant morning stage;
Alas! the evening traveller feels
The fears of wary age!
WRITTEN ON THE LEAVES OF AN IVORY POCKET-
BOOK, BY THE GIVER.
ACCEPT, my dear, this toy; and let me say,
The leaves an emblem of your mind display.
Your youthful mind, uncolour'd, pure and white,
Like crystal leaves, transparent to the sight;
Fit each impression to receive, whate'er
The pencil of instruction traces there.
O then transcribe into the shining page
Each virtue which adorns the tender age;
And grave upon the tablet of your heart
Each lofty science, and each useful art.
But with the likeness mark the difference well,
Nor think complete this hasty parallel.
The leaves by folly scrawl'd, or foul with stains,
A drop of water clears with little pains;
But from a blotted mind the smallest trace
Not seas of bitter tears can e'er efface;
The spreading mark for ever will remain,
And rolling years but deepen every stain.
Once more, one difference let me still explain;
The vacant leaves for ever will remain,
Till some officious hand the tablet fill
With sense or nonsense, rhyme or prose, at will.
Not so your mind: without your forming care,
Nature forbids an idle vacuum there;
Folly will plant the tares without your toil,
And weeds spring up in the neglected soil.
NAY-do not wantonly destroy
That harmless Fly, my thoughtless boy!
Its buzzing hum, that vexes thee,
Is but an idler's minstrelsy.
Unconscious of his threaten'd doom,
He gaily courses round the room;
Fearless alights upon thy book;
Nor dreads that irritated look;
A gay voluptuary, he
Devotes his life to revelry;
Anticipates no future ill,
But sips and gambols where he will:
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