Are given in vain, but what they seek they find).

Wise is her present; she connects in this His greatest Virtue with his greatest Bliss;

At once his own bright prospects to be blest,

And strongest motive to assist the rest. Self-love thus push'd to social, to di

vine,

Gives thee to make thy neighbor's blessing thine.

Is this too little for the boundless heart? Extend it, let thy enemies have part: Grasp the whole worlds of Reason, Life, and Sense,

In one close system of Benevolence: Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, And height of Bliss but height of Charity. God loves from whole to parts: but human soul

Must rise from individual to the whole. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,

As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;

The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds,

Another still, and still another spreads; Friend, parent, neighbor, first it will embrace;

His country next; and next all human

in pain,

Some, swell'd to Gods, confess e'en virtue vain :

Or indolent, to each extreme they fall, To trust in ev'rything, or doubt of all. Who thus define it say they, more or less Than this, that Happiness is Happiness? Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave,

All states can reach it, and all heads conceive;

Obvious her goods, in no extremes they dwell;

There needs but thinking right, and meaning well;

And mourn our various portions as we please,

Equal is common sense and common

ease.

Remember, Man, " The Universal Cause Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws;"

While those are placed in Hope, and these in Fear;

Not present good or ill, the joy or curse, But future views of better or of worse. O, sons of earth, attempt ye still to rise, By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies?

Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,

And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.

Know, all the good that individuals find,

Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind,

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of

sense,

Lie in three words, Health, Peace, and Competence.

FAME.

WHAT's fame? a fancy'd life in others' breath,

A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death. Just what you hear, you have; and what's unknown,

The same (my lord) if Tully's, or your own.
All that we feel of it begins and ends
In the small circle of our foes or friends;
To all beside as much an empty shade
An Eugene living as a Cæsar dead;
Alike or when, or where, they shone, or
shine,

Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.
A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod;
An honest man's the noblest work of
God.

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
And let me languish into life.

Hark! they whisper; angels say,
"Sister spirit, come away."
What is this absorbs me quite?

Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?

The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?

I've seen,

(With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown,)

That tell in homely phrase who lie below. Sudden he starts, and hears, or thinks he hears,

The sound of something purring at his heels;

Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind him,

Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows;

Who gather round, and wonder at the tale

Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand

O'er some new-open'd grave;
(strange to tell!)
Evanishes at crowing of the cock.

THE GRAVE.

and

BEAUTY IN THE GRAVE. BEAUTY-thou pretty plaything, dear deceit,

That steals so softly o'er the stripling's heart,

And gives it a new pulse, unknown be fore,

The grave discredits thee: thy charms expung'd,

Thy roses faded, and thy lilies soil'd, What hast thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers

Flock round thee now, to gaze and do thee homage?

Methinks I see thee with thy head low

laid,

With anguish heavy laden; let me trace it:

From yonder bed it comes, where the strong man,

By stronger arm belabor'd, gasps for breath

Like a hard-hunted beast. How his great heart

Beats thick! his roomy chest by far too scant

To give the lungs full play. - What now avail

hold

Of what comes next to hand, and grasps it hard,

Just like a creature drowning; hideous sight!

Oh! how his eyes stand out, and stare full ghastly!

While the distemper's rank and deadly

venom

Shoots like a burning arrow cross his bowels,

And drinks his marrow up. - Heard you that groan?

Goliah,

See how the great

Lies still.