Nay, thy companion, too, fhall comfort know, And lo! he lays him by the fire, elate; Now on his mafter turns his gladden'd eyes; A Hermit there, exalt to Heav'n thy praife; When Fate fhall call thee from a world of woe, The YOUNG FLY and OLD SPIDER. BY THE SAME. RESH was the breath of morn- -the bufy breeze, FRA's Poets tell us, whisper'd through the trees, And swept the dew-clad blooms with wing fo light: Phoebus got up, and made a blazing fire, That gilded every country house and fpire, And, fmiling, put on his best looks so bright. On this fair morn, a SPIDER who had fet, To catch a breakfast, his old waving net, With curious art, upon a fpangled thorn; At length, with gravely-fquinting, longing eye, Near him efpy'd a pretty, plump, young fly, Humming her little orifons to morn. Good morrow, dear Mifs Fly," quoth gallant Grim---"Good morrow, Sir," reply'd Mifs Fly to him "Walk in, Mifs, pray, and fee what I'm about." "I'm much obliged t'ye, Sir," Mifs Fly rejoin'd, My eyes are both fo very good, I find, 66 "That I can plainly fee the whole, without." "Fine weather, Mifs"-" Yes, very, very fine," Quoth Mifs- -"prodigious fine indeed :" "But why fo coy ?" quoth Grim, "that you decline "To put within my bow'r your pretty head ?" ""Tis fimply this," Quoth cautious Mifs, "I fear you'd like my pretty head fo well, "Poh, poh, child, pray difmifs your "La, Sir," quoth Mifs, with feeming artless tongue, "I fear our falutation would be long; "So loving, too, I fear that you would eat me." So faying, with a fmile fhe left the rogue, To weave more lines of death, and plan for prog. Co TO THE MEMORY OF DR. STONEHOUSE'S LADY. BY MISS MORE. OME, Refignation! wipe the human tear, Bid felfish forrow hufh the fond complaint, Nor from the God fhe lov'd detain the faint. Truth, meeknefs, patience, honour'd fhade! were thine, And holy hope, and charity divine: Though thefe thy forfeit being could not fave, Thy faith fubdu'd the terrors of the grave. Oh! if thy living excellence could teach, A PRAYER on the PROSPECT of DEATH. BY BURNS. THOU unknown Almighty Caufe In whofe dread prefence, ere an hour If I have wander'd in those paths As fomething loudly in my breast Thou know'ft that Thou haft formed me Where human weakness has come short, Do Thou, all good! for fuch Thou art, Where with intention I have err'd, But Thou art good; and goodness still Ο PEACE AND HOME. ANONYMOUS. H! tarry, gentle traveller; Oh! tell me what has tempted thee Through woods and dreary wilds to roam ; Say, haft thou not a partner dear, Yon fun that gilds the village fpire, Does mad ambition lure thy fteps For life is like yon crimson beam That trembles in the western skies; Full foon, alas! its glories cease; That bounteous nature made thy own. Shall evermore my dwelling be; E'en when my deftin'd days are spent I'll reft beneath yon aged tree. Befide the brook, a simple stone Shall ferve to guard my cold remains, Return then, gentle traveller; Nor leave again thy lowly vale SUCH THINGS WERE. BY J. RANNIE. SCENough fally I your charms furveys CENES of my youth! ye once were dear, I once was wont to linger here, From early dawn to clofing day. Scenes of my youth! pale forrow flings A fhade o'er all your beauties now; And robs the moments of their wings, That scatter pleasure as they flow; While ftill to heighten ev'ry care, Reflection tells me-fuch things were. |