To bless, is to be blest.
When young, what honest triumph flush'd my breast,
This truth once known,-To bless, is to be blest!
I led the bending beggar on his way;
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray ;)
Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.
As in his scrip I dropp'd my little store,
And wept to think that little was no more,
He breath'd his pray'r,-" Long may such goodness
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give.
Epitaph on a young woman.
In dawn of life she sweetly sought her God;
And the strait path of thorny virtue trod.
Fond to oblige, too gentle to offend;
Belov'd by all, to all the good a friend:
The bad she censur'd by her life alone;
Blind to their faults, severe upon her own:
In others' griefs a tender part she bore;
And with the needy shar'd her little store:
At distance view'd the world with pious dread;
And to God's temple for protection fled :
There sought that peace which Heav'n alone can give; And learn'd to die ere others learn to live.
The looking-glass; or, ill-humour corrected.
THERE was a little stubborn dame,
Whom no authority could tame:
Restive by long indulgence grown,
No will she minded but her own:
At trifles oft she'd scold and fret;
Then in a corner take a seat,
And sourly moping all the day,
Disdain alike to work or play.
Papa all softer arts had tried,
And sharper remedies applied:
But both were vain; for ev'ry course
He took, still made her worse and worse.
Mamma observ'd the rising lass,
By stealth retiring to the glass,
To practise little airs unseen,
In the true genius of thirteen:
On this, a deep design she laid,
To tame the humour of the maid;
Contriving, like a prudent mother,
To make one folly cure another.
Upon the wall against the seat
Which Jessy us'd for her retreat,
Whene'er by accident offended,
A looking-glass was straight suspended,
That it might show her how deform'd
She look'd, and frightful, when she storm'd;
And warn her, as she priz'd her beauty,
To bend her humour to her duty.
All this the looking-glass achiev'd;
Its threats were minded and believ'd.
The maid, who spurn'd at all advice,
Grew tame and gentle in a trice:
So when all other means had fail'd,
The silent monitor prevail'd.
The butterfly and the snail; or, elevation renders little minds proud and insolent.
ALL upstarts, insolent in place,
Remind us of their vulgar race.
As in the sunshine of the morn,
A butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rose ;
With pert conceit his bosom glows:
His wings (all glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he displays; the spangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.
His now forgotten friend, a snail, Beneath his house, with slimy trail,
Crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies,
In wrath he to the gard❜ner cries:
"What means yon peasant's daily toil,
From choking weeds to rid the soil?
Why wake you to the morning's care?
Why with new arts correct the year?
Why grows the peach with crimson hue?
And why the plum's inviting blue?
Were they to feast his taste design'd,
That vermin of voracious kind?
Crush, then, the slow, the pilf'ring race;
So purge thy garden from disgrace."
"What arrogance !" the snail replied;
"How insolent is upstart pride!
Hadst thou not thus with insult vain,
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the scum of earth.
For scarce nine suns have wak'd the hours,
To swell the fruit, and paint the flow'rs,
Since I thy humble life survey'd,
In base and sordid guise array'd:
A hideous insect, vile, unclean,
You dragg'd a slow and noisome train;
And from your spider bowels drew
Foul film, and spun the dirty clue.
I own my humble life, good friend ;
Snail was I born, and snail shall end.
And what's a butterfly? at best,
The brother and sister; or, mental excellence superior to personal beauty.
WARN'D by our counsel oft, beware,
And look into yourselves with care.
There was a certain father had
A homely girl and comely lad.
These being at their childish play,
Within their mother's room one day,
A looking-glass was in the chair,
And they beheld their faces there.
The boy grows prouder as he looks;
The girl is in a rage, nor brooks
Her boasting brother's jests and sneers,
Affronted at each word she hears.
Then to her father down she flies,
And urges all she can devise
Against the boy, who could presume
To meddle in a lady's room.
At which, embracing each in turn,
With most affectionate concern,
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