Alas! regardless of their doom, No sense have they of ills to come, Yet see how all around them wait And black misfortune's baleful train. Ah! show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murderous band, Ah! tell them they are men! These shall the fury passions tear, And shame that skulks behind; That inly gnaws the secret heart; Ambition this shall tempt to rise, The stings of falsehood, those shall try, That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen remorse, with blood defiled, And moody madness laughing wild, Amidst severest wo. Lo, in the vale of years beneath More hideous than their queen: That numbs the soul with icy hand; To each his sufferings; all are men, Yet ah! why should they know their fate? And happiness too swiftly flies; Thought would destroy their paradiseNo more ;-where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy sire to send on earth, What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, And from her own she learnt to melt at others' woe. Scared at thy frown terrific, fly Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, To her they vow their truth, and are again believed. Wisdom in sable garb arrayed, Immersed in rapturous thought profound, With leaden eye that loves the ground, And pity, dropping soft the sadly pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand! Not in thy gorgon terrors clad, Not 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. Thy form benign, O goddess wear, To soften, not to wound the heart. What others are, to feel, and know myself a man. JOHNSON. FROM "THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. ON what foundation stands the warrior's pride, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire; And one capitulate, and one resign; Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain ; "Think nothing gained," he cries, "till nought remain, On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, And all be mine beneath the polar sky." The march begins in military state, |