And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's pow'r display,
And publishes to ev'ry land,

The work of an Almighty hand.
2. Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wond'rous tale;
And, nightly, to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole,
3. What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball!
What though nor real voice nor sound,
Amid their radiant orbs be found!
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever singing as they shine,

The hand that made us, is Divine."-ADDISON.

SECTION VI.—An Address to the Deity. 1.O THOU! whose balance does the mountains weigh; Whose will the wild tumultuous seas obey;

Whose breath can turn those watʼry worlds to flame,
That flame to tempest, and that tempest tame;
Earth's meanest son, all trembling, prostrate falls,
And on the bounty of thy goodness calls.

2. O! give the winds all past offence to sweep,
To scatter wide, or bury in the deep.
Thy pow'r, my weakness, may I ever see,
And wholly dedicate my soul to thee.
Reign o'er my will; my passi ns ebb and flow
At thy command, nor human motive know!
If anger boil, let anger be my praise,
And sin the graceful indignation raise.
My love be warm to succour the distress'd,
And lift the burden from the soul oppress'd.

3. O may my understanding ever read

This glorious volume which thy wisdom made!
May sea and land, and earth and heav'n, be join'd,
To bring th' eternal Author to my mind!

When oceans roar, or awful thunders roll,

May thoughts of thy dread vengeance, shake my sou When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly shine

Adore, my heart, the Majesty divine!

Grant I may ever, at the morning ray,

Open with pray'r the consecrated day;
Tune thy great praise, and bid my soul arise,
And with the mounting sun ascend the skies;
As that advances, let my zeal improve,
And glow with ardour of consummate love;

And varying schemes of life no more o
Distract the lab'ring will.

3. In silence hush'd to reason's voice,

Attends each mental pow'r

Come, dear Emilia, and enjoy

Reflection's fav'rite hour.

4. Come, while the peaceful scene invites,
Let's search this ample round;

Where shall the lovely fleeting form
Of happiness be found?

5. Does it amidst the frolic mirth

Of gay assemblies dwell;

Or hide beneath the solemn gloom, ulg
That shades the hermit's cell?

6 How oft the laughing brow of joy,
A sick'ning heart conceals!
And, through the cloister's deep recess,
Invading sorrow steals.

7. In vain, through beauty, fortune, wit,
The fugitive we trace;

It dwells nct in the faithless smile
That brightens Clodia's face.

8. Perhaps the joy to these deny'd,

The heart in friendship finds: vita
Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit
Of visionary minds!

9. Howe'er our varying notions rove,
Yet all agree in one,

To place its being in some state,
At distance from our own.
10. O blind to each indulgent aim,
Of power supremely wise,
Who fancy happiness in aught
The hand of Heav'n denies!
11. Vain is alike the joy we seek,
And vain what we possess,
Unless harmonious reason tunes
The passions into peace.

12. To temper'd wishes, just desires,
Is happiness confin'd;

And, deaf to folly's call, attends
The music of the mind.-CARTER.

SECTION VIII.-The Fire-Side.
1 DEAR Chloe, while the busy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;
Though singularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.

3. From the gay world, we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,

Where love our hours employs;
No noi sy neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling stranger near,
To spoil our heart-felt joys.
3. If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies;

And they are fools who roam:
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys inust flow
And that dear hut, our home.

19/

4. Of rest was Noah's dove bereft, bu When with impatient wing she left

That safe retreat, the ark;

Giving her vain excursion o'er,
The disapointed bird once more
Explor'd the sacred bark.

3. Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, We, who improve his golden hours,

By sweet experience know,
That marriage rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good,
A paradise below.

6. Our babes shall richest comfort bring;
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring
Whence pleasures ever rise:

We'll form their minds, with studious care,
To all that's manly, good, and fair,

And train them for the skies.

7. While they our wisest hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, support our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondest loves repay,
And recompense our cares.

8. No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs! we envy not your state;
We look with pity on the great,
And bless our humbler lot.
9 Our portion is not large, indeed!
But then how little do we need!
For nature's calls are few:
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,
And make that little do.

10. We'll therefore relish, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
11. To be resign'd, when ills betide,
Patient when favours are denied,

And pleas'd with favours giv'n:
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part;
This is that incense of the heart,
Whose fragrance smells to heav'n
12. We'll ask no long protracted treat,
Since winter-life is seldom sweet
But when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,

Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,
The relics of our store.

Thus, hand in hand, through life we'll gos
Its checker'd paths of joy and wo

With cautious steps, we'll tread
Quit its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,

And mingle with the dead.

A

14. While conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall through the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,

And smooth the bed of death.-COTTON.

SECTION IX.

Providence vindicated in the present state of Man.
1. HEAV'N from all creatures hides the book of fate;
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state;
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know;
Or who could suffer being here below?

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food,
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
2. Oh blindness to the future! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n,
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,

A hero perish, or a sparrow fall;

Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,

And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

3. Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher, Death; and God adore.
What future bliss he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always TO BE blest.
The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
4. Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor❜d mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul proud science never taught to stray
Far as the Solar Walk or Milky Way,
Yet, simple nature to his hope has giv❜n,
Behind the cloud-topt hill, a humbler heav'n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd,
Some happier island in the watʼry waste;
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
5. TO BE, contents his natural desire;

He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire:
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company
Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense,
Weigh thy opinion against Providence;
Call imperfection what thou fanciest such;
Say here he gives too little, there too much.
6. In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies;
All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies
Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes;
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.

R