Awaking, how could I but mufe At what fuch a dream fhould betide? But foon my ear caught the glad news VERSES Printed at the Bettom of the YEARLY BILL OF MORTALITY OF THE TOWN OF NORTHAMPTON, Pallida Mars æquo pulfat pede pauperum tabernas Pale Death with equal foot strikes wide the door WHILE thirteen moons faw smoothly run All thefe, life's rambling journey. done, 328 YEARLY BILL OF MORTALITY. Was man (frail always) made more frail Than in foregoing years? Did famine, or did plague prevail, No; these were vigorous as their fires, Nor plague nor famine came; This annual tribute Death requires, And never waves his claim. Like crowded foreft trees we stand, Green as the bay-tree, ever green, The gay, the thoughtless, have I feen ; Read, ye that run, the awful truth A worm is in the bud of youth, No prefent health can health insure For yet an hour to come; No med'cine, though it often cure, And oh! that (humble as my lot, These truths, though known, too much forgot, So prays your Clerk, with all his heart; And, ere he quits the pen, Begs you for once to take his part, And answer all-Amen! * John Cox, Parish Clerk of Northampton. ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, FOR THE YEAR -Placidiq; ibi demum morte quievit. Virg. Then calm at length he breath'd his foul away. "On most delightful hour by man "Experienc'd here below; "The hour that terminates his span, "His folly and his woe. "Worlds fhould not bribe me back to tread "Again life's dreary wafte; "To fee my days again o'erfpread "With all the gloomy past. "My home, henceforth, is in the skies, "Earth, feas, and fun adieu; ❝ All heaven unfolded to my eyes, "I have no fight for you." Thus fpake Afpatio, firm poffeft Then breath'd his foul into its reft,, The bofom of his God. He was a man among the few Sincere on Virtue's fide, And all his ftrength from fcripture drew, To hourly use apply'd That rule he priz'd, by that he fear'd, He hated, hop'd, and lov'd, Nor ever frown'd, or fad appear'd, But when his heart had roved. For he was frail as thou or I, But when he felt it, heav'd a figh, Such liv'd Afpatio, and at last, His joys be MINE, each reader cries, They shall be yours, my verse replies, |