It fends a peal of hollow groans, Thus fpeaking from among the bones. When men my scythe and darts fupply, How great a King of Fears am I? They view me like the laft of things; They make, and then they draw my strings, No more my spectre-form appears. Death's but a path that must be trod, From the rough rage of swelling feas. Nod o'er the 'fcutcheons of the dead? Nor can the parted body know, Nor wants the foul, these forms of woe; As As men who long in prison dwell, With lamps that glimmer round the cell, Spring forth to greet the glitt'ring fun : A few, and evil years, they waste : A HYMN A HYMN to CONTENTMENT. Lovely, lafting peace of mind! Sweet delight of human kind! Heav'nly born, and bred on high, To crown the fav'rites of the sky Than victors in a triumph know! Ambition searches all its sphere Thy presence in its gold infhrin'd. 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 Solitude's the nurfe 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 fky, Converse with flars above, and know All nature in its forms below; The reft it seeks, in fecking dies, And doubts at laft for knowledge rife. Lovely, lafting Peace appear! This world itself, if thou art here, And man contains it in his breast. 'Twas thus, as under fhade I ftood, I fung my wifhes to the wood, And And loft in thought, no more perceiv'd The branches whisper as they wav'd: Confefs'd the prefence of the Grace. When thus she spoke-Go rule thy will, Know God and bring thy heart to know, And I'll be there to crown the reft. In Oh! by yonder mofsy seat, my hours of fweet retreat; Might I thus my foul employ, Rais'd as ancient prophets were, In heav'nly vision, praite, and pray'r ; Pleas'd and blefs'd with God alone: Then while the gardens take my fight, With all the colours of delight; I While |