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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.
ODE TO ADVERSITY.
Thou tamer of the human breast,
The bad affright, afflict the best!
And purple Tyrants vainly groan
Virtue, his darling child, design'd,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore
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,
And leave us leisure to be good. ' 20
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,
With leaden eye that loves the ground,
With Justice to herself severe,
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
Thy form benign, O goddess ! wear,
Thy milder influence impart, .
Thy philosophic Train be there
To soften, not to wound my heart.
Exact my own defects to scan,
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;
And still as each repeated pleasure tired,
Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn! 35
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 :
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
A time there was, ere England's griefs began,
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;