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Sweet moralist! afloat on life's rough fea,
The Chriftian has an art unknown to thee :
He holds no parley with unmanly fears,
BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray ; That shews by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been and still prevail
From whence his rays proceed; Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure--the hand of might
That kindles up the skies, Gives him a modicum of light,
Proportion'd to his size.
Perhaps indulgent nature meant
By such a lamp bestow'd,
Be careful where he trod :
Might ferve, however small,
And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain, ' Tis power almighty bids him shine,
Nor bids him fnine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you, Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendour too.
II. THE JACKDA W.
THERE is a bird who by his coat,
Might be suppos'd a crow;
And dormitory too.
Above the steeple shines a plate,
From what point blows the weather,
up—your brains begin to swim, 'Tis in the clouds--that pleases him,
He chooses it the rather.
Fond of the speculative height,
And thence securely sees
That occupy mankind below,
Secure and at his ease.
IV. You think, no doubt, he sits and muses On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall, No not a single thought like that Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.
He sees that this great roundabout
Church, army, physic, law,
And says, what says he ? Caw.
Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen
And sick of having seen 'em,
And such a head between 'em.
III. THE CRICKET.
LITTLE inmate, full of mirth,