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“But now had all his fortunes felt a wrack, Had that false servant sped in safety back! 235 'This night his treasured heaps he meant to steal, And what a fund of charity would fail!

“ Thus Heaven instructs thy mind : this trial o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more."

On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew; 240 The sage stood wondering, as the seraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha, when, to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky; The fiery pomp ascending left to view; The prophet gazed, and wish'd to follow too. 245

The bending Hermit here a prayer begun, (DONE!" “ LORD! AS IN HEAVEN, ON EARTH THY WILL BE Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place, And pass’d a life of piety and peace.

PARNELL.

ODE TO ADVERSITY.
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,

Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour

The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thine adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain,

And purple Tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy Sire to send on earth

Virtue, his darling child, design'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,

And bade to form her infant mind.

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Stern, rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore :

What sorrow was, thou badest her know, 15 And from her own she learn’d to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, ily .

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leisure to be good. ' 20
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer friend, the flattering foe;

By vain Prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom, in sable garb array'd,

Immersed in rapturous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid,

With leaden eye that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend :
Warm Charity, the general friend,

With Justice to herself severe,
And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.
0! gently on thy suppliant's head,

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful Band (As by the impious thou art seen) With thundering voice and threatening mien,

With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. 40

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Thy form benign, O goddess ! wear,

Thy milder influence impart, .

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Thy philosophic Train be there

To soften, not to wound my heart.
The generous spark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive,

Exact my own defects to scan,
What others are to feel, and know myself a MAN.

GRAY.

THE DESERTED VILLAGE. SWEET Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd : Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endear'd each scene ! How often have I paused on every charm; The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade For talking age and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting, lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree; While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old survey'd ; 20 And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;

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And still as each repeated pleasure tired,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired;
The dancing pair that simply sought renown,
By holding out to tire each other down;
The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face,
While secret laughter titter'd round the place;
The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, 29
The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these,
With sweet succession, taught ev'n toil to please;
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,
These were thy charms—but all these charms are fled.

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn! 35
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green:
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain : 40
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But choked with sedges works its weedy way;
Along thy glades, a solitary guest,
The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall;
And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.

50 Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made :

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But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.

A time there was, ere England's griefs began,
When every rood of ground maintain'd its man;
For him light labour spread her wholesome store,
Just gave what life required, but gave no more: 60
His best companions, innocence and health;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain; Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose, 65 Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose ; And every want to opulence allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride. Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that ask'd but little room, 70 Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene, Lived in each look, and brighten'd all the green; These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. Sweet Auburn ! parent of the blissful hour,

75 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. Here as I take my solitary rounds Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 80 Remembrance wakes, with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs—and God has given my shareI still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 85 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;

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