As men who long in prifon dwell,

With lamps that glimmer round the cell,
When-e'er their fuff'ring years are run,
Spring forth to greet the glitt'ring fun :
Such joy, tho' far transcending fense,
Have pious fouls at parting hence.
On earth, and in the body plac'd,
A few, and evil years, they waste :
But when their chains are caft afide,
See the glad scene unfolding wide,
Clap the glad wing, and tow'r away,
And mingle with the blaze of day.

A HYMN

A HYMN to CONTENTMENT.

L

OVELY, lafting peace of mind!

Sweet delight of human kind!

Heav'nly born, and bred on high,
To crown the fav'rites of the sky
With more of happiness below,
Than victors in a triumph know!
Whither, O whither art thou fled,

To lay thy meek, contented head?
What happy region dost thou please
To make the feat of calms and ease?
Ambition fearches all its sphere
Of pomp and state, to meet thee there.
Encreasing avarice would find

Thy presence in its gold infhrin'd.
The bold advent'rer ploughs his way,
Thro' rocks amidst the foaming fea,
To gain thy love; and then perceives
Thou wert not in the rocks and waves.

The

The filent heart which grief affails,

Treads foft and lonesome o'er the vales,

Sees daifies open, rivers run,

And feeks, (as I have vainly done,)
Amusing thought; but learns to know

That folitude's the nurse of woe.
No real happiness is found

In trailing purple o'er the ground :
Or in a foul exalted high,

To range the circuit of the sky,

Converse with stars above, and know

All nature in its forms below;

The reft it feeks, in seeking dies,

And doubts at last for knowledge rise..

Lovely, lafting peace appear!

This world itself, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden bleft,

And man contains it in his breast.

'Twas thus, as under fhade I ftood,

I fung my wishes to the wood,

And

And loft in thought, no more perceiv'd

The branches whisper as they wav'd:
It feem'd, as all the quiet place

Confefs'd the prefence of the Grace.

When thus fhe spoke-Go rule thy will,
Bid thy wild paffions all be ftill,

Know God--and bring thy heart to know,

The joys which from religion flow:
Then ev'ry Grace fhall prove its Guest,

And I'll be there to crown the rest.

Oh! by yonder moffy feat,

In my hours of fweet retreat;
Might I thus my foul employ,

With sense of gratitude and joy :
Rais'd as ancient prophets were,

In heav'nly vifion, praife, and pray'r;
Pleafing all men, hurting none,

Pleas'd and blefs'd with God alone:

Then while the gardens take my fight,

With all the colours of delight;

While filver waters glide along,

To please my ear, and court my song:
I'll lift my voice, and tune my ftring,
And thee, great Source of Nature, fing.
The fun that walks his airy way,

To light the world, and give the day;
The moon that fhines with borrow'd light ;.
The ftars that gild the gloomy night;
The feas that roll unnumber'd waves;
The wood that spreads its fhady leaves ;
The field whose ears conceal the grain,
The yellow treasure of the plain;
All of these, and all I see,

Shou'd be fung, and fung by me:
They speak their Maker as they can,
But want and ask the tongue of man.

Go fearch among your idle dreams,
Your bufy, or your vain extreams;
And find a life of equal blifs,
Or own the next begun in this.

The