III.

See how they have fafely furviv'd

The frowns of a sky so fevere,

Such Mary's true love that has liv'd
Through many a turbulent year,

The charms of the late blowing rose,
Seem grac'd with a livelier hue,

And the winter of forrow best shows
The truth of a friend, fuch as you.

MUTUAL FOR BEARANCE Neceffary to the Happiness of the Married State.

THE lady thus addrefs'd her spouse

What a mere dungeon is this house,

By no means large enough, and was it,

Yet this dull room and that dark closet,
Those hangings with their worn-out graces,
Long beards, long nofes, and pale faces,

Are

Are fuch an antiquated scene,

They overwhelm me with the spleen.
-Sir Humphry shooting in the dark,
Makes answer quite befide the mark :
No doubt, my dear, I bade him come,
Engag'd myself to be at home,

And shall expect him at the door

Precisely when the clock ftrikes four.
You are fo deaf, the lady cried,
(And rais'd her voice and frown'd befide)
You are fo fadly deaf, my dear,

What fhall I do to make you hear?
Difmifs poor Harry, he replies,

Some people are more nice than wife,
For one flight trefpafs all this ftir?
What if he did ride whip and fpur,
Twas but a mile-your fav'rite horse
'Will never look one hair the worse.
Well, I proteft 'tis past all bearing-

Child! I am rather hard of hearing

Yes,

Yes, truly-one must scream and bawl,

I tell you you can't hear at all.
Then with a voice exceeding low,

No matter if you hear or no.

Alas! and is domeftic ftrife,

That foreft ill of human life,
A plague fo little to be fear'd,
As to be wantonly incurr'd;
To gratify a fretful passion,
On ev'ry trivial provocation?

The kindest and the happiest pair,

Will find occafion to forbear,

And fomething ev'ry day they live
To pity, and perhaps, forgive.
But if infirmities that fall

In common to the lot of all,

A blemish or a fenfe impair'd,
Are crimes fo little to be fpar'd,
Then farewell all that must create
The comfort of the wedded state,

Inftead

Instead of harmony, 'tis jar

And tumult, and inteftine war.

The love that cheers life's latest stage,
Proof against sickness and old age,

Preferv'd by virtue from declenfion,
Becomes not weary of attention,
But lives, when that exterior grace
Which firft infpir'd the flame, decays.
'Tis gentle, delicate and kind,

To faults compaffionate or blind,
And will with fympathy endure

Those evils it would gladly cure,

But

angry, coarse, and harsh expreffion Shows love to be a mere profeffion, Proves that the heart is none of his,

Or foon expels him if it is.

An Invitation into the Country.

I.

THE swallows in their torpid state,

Compose their useless wing,

And bees in hives as idly wait

The call of early spring.

II.

The keenest froft that binds the stream,

The wildeft wind that blows,

Are neither felt nor fear'd by them,

Secure of their repose.

III.

But man, all feeling and awake,

The gloomy scene surveys,

With present ills his heart muft ach

And pant for brighter days.

IV Old