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No more by varying passions beat,
O gently guide my pilgrim feet
To find thy hermit cell;
Where in some pure and equal sky,
Bencath thy soft indulgent eye,

The modest virtues dwell.

Simplicity in attic vest,

And innocence, with candid breast,
And clear undaunted eye;

And hope, who points to distant years,
Fair op'ning through this vale of tears
A vista to the sky.

There health, through whose calm bosom glide
The temperate joys, in even tide,
That rarely ebb or flow;
And patience there, thy sister meek,
Presents her mild unvarying cheek,
To meet the offer'd blow.

Her influence taught the Phrygian sage
A tyrant master's wanton rage,

With settled smiles to meet;
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread,
He bow'd his meek submitted head,
And kiss'd thy sainted feet.

But thou, O nymph, retir'd and coy!
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy
To tell thy tender tale;

The lowliest children of the ground,
Moss rose and violet blossom round,
And lily of the vale.

O say what soft propitious hour
1 best may choose to hail thy power,
And court thy gentle sway!
!
When autumn friendly to the muse,
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse,
And shed thy milder day?
When eve, her dewy star beneath,
Thy balmy spirit loves to breathe,
And ev'ry storm is laid?

If such an hour was e'er thy choice,
Oft let me hear thy soothing voice,

Low whispering through the shade. BARBAULD.
SECTION II.

The Shepherd and the Philosopher.

REMOTE from cities liv'd a swain,
Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;
His head was silver'd o'er with age,
And long experience made him sage;
In summer's heat and winter's cold,
He fed his flock and penn'd the fold;
His hours in cheerful labor flew,
Nor envy nor ambition knew:
His wisdom and his honest fame
Through all the country raised his name.
A deep philosopher (whose rules
Of moral life were drawn from schools)
The shepherd's homely cottage sought,
And thus explor'd his reach of thought.
"Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books consum'd the midnight oil ?
Hast thou old Greece and Rome survey'd,
And the vast sense of Plato weigh'd?
Has Socrates thy soul refin'd,
And hast thou fathom'd Tully's mind?
Or, like the wise Ulysses, thrown,
By various fates, on realms unknown,
Hast thou through many cities stray'd,
Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd ?"
The shepherd modestly repli'd,
I ne'er the paths of learning try'd;
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts,
To read mankind, their laws and arts;
For man is practis'd in disguise,
He cheats the most discerning eyes.
Who by that search shall wiser grow?
By that ourselves we never know.
The little knowledge I have gain'd,
Was all from simple nature drain'd ;
Hence my life's maxims took their rise,

Hence grew my settled hate of vice.
The daily labors of the bee
Awake my soul to industry.
Who can observe the careful ant.
And not provide for future want?
My dog (the trustiest of his kind)
With gratitude inflames my mind;
I mark his true, his faithful way,
And in my service copy Tray.
In constancy and nuptial love,
I learn my duty from the dove.
The hen, who from the chilly air,
With pious wing, protects her care,
And every fowl that flies at large,
Instructs me in the parent's charge."
"From nature too I take my rule,
To shun contempt and ridicule.
I never, with important air,
In conversation overbear.

Can grave and formal pass for wise,
When men the solemn owl despise ?
My tongue within my lips I rein;
For who talks much must talk in vain.
We from the wordy torrent fly
Who listens to the chatt'ring pye?
Nor would I, with felonious flight,
By stealth invade my neighbor's right:

Rapacious animals we hate;

Kites, hawks, and wolves, deserve their fate.

Do not we just abhorrence find

Against the toad and serpent kind?

But envy, calumny, and spite,
Bear stronger venom in their bite.
Thus ev'ry object of creation
Can furnish hints to contemplation;
And, from the most minute and mean,
A virtuous mind can morals glean."

"Thy fame is just," the sage replies; "Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. Pride often guides the author's peв, Books as affected are as men :

But he who studies nature's laws,
From certain truth his maxims draws;
And those, without our schools, suffice
To make men moral, good and wise."
SECTION III.

The road to Happiness open to all Men.

On happiness! our being's end and aim!

GAY.

Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name;
That something still, which prompts th' eternal sigh,
For which we bear to live, or dare to die ;
Which stili so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise;
Plant of celestial seed, if dropt below,

Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow;
Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine,
Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine?
Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?

Where grows? Where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere,

'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where :
'Tis never to be bought, but always free;

And, fled from monarchs, St John! dwells with thee.
Ask of the learn'd the way? The learn'd are blind ;
This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind :
Some place the bliss in action, some in ease,
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these:
Some sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain;
Some swell'd to gods, confess even virtue vain;
Or indolent to each extreme they fall,
To trust in ev'ry thing, or doubt of all.

Who thus define it, say they more or less
Than this, that happiness is happiness?

Take nature's path, and mad opinions leave;
All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell;
There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;
And mourn our various portions as we please,
Equal is common sense, and common ease.
Remember man, "The Universal Cause

Acts not by partial but by gen'ral laws;"
And makes what happiness we justly call
Subsist not in the good of one, but all.

SECTION IV.

The Goodness of Providence.
THE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noon day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads,
My weary wand'ring steps he leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Tho' in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My stedfast heart shall fear no ill;
For thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile ;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all around.

SECTION V.

POPE.

ADDISON.

The Creator's works, attest his Greatness.

THE spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue etherial sky,

And spangled heav'ns a shining frame,

Their great original proclaim :

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's pow'r display,
And publishes to every land,
The work of an Almighty hand.

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