Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,

Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence; But health consists with temperance alone;

And peace, O virtue! peace is all thy own.

On earth nought precious is obtain'd,
But what is painful too;

By travel and to travel born,

Our sabbaths are but few.

Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.

Our hearts are fasten'd to this world,
By strong and endless ties;

But ev'ry sorrow cuts a string,

And urges us to rise.

Oft pining cares in rich brocades are dress'd,
And diamonds glitter on an anxious breast,

Teach me to feel another's wo,

To hide the fault I see;

That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.

This day be bread, and peace, my lot:

All else beneath the sun

'Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not;

And let thy will be done.

Volume II.

D

Vice is a monster of so frightful mien
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen:
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

If nothing more than purpose in thy power,
Thy purpose firm, is equal to the deed:
Who does the best his circumstance allows,
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.

In faith and hope the world will disagree;
But all mankind's concern is charity.

To be resign'd when ills betide,
Patient when favours are denied,

And pleas'd with favours giv'n;
Most surely this is Wisdom's part,
This is that incense of the heart,

Whose fragrance smells to Heav'n.

All fame is foreign, but of true desert;

Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: One self-approving hour whole years outweighs

Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas;

And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life,

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,

The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy,
Is virtue's prize.

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span:
Oh! give relief, and Heav'n will bless your store.

Who lives to nature rarely can be poor;
Who lives to fancy, never can be rich.

When young, life's journey I began,

The glitt'ring prospect charm'd my eyes;

I saw, along th' extended plain,

Joy after joy successive rise.

But soon I found 'twas all a dream;

And learn'd the fond pursuit to shun, Where few can reach the purpos'd aim, And thousands daily are undone.

"Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours; And ask them, what report they bore to Heav'n.

All nature is but art unknown to thee;

All chance, direction which thou can'st not see;

All discord, harmony not understood;

All partial evil, universal good.

Heav'n's choice is safer than our own:

Of ages past inquire,

What the most form 'able fate;

"To have our own desire."

If ceaseless, thus, the fowls of heav'n he feeds,
If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwise? or, are ye less than they?

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangl'd heav'ns, a shining frame,
Their great original proclaim:

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,

And publishes to ev'ry land,
The work of an Almighty hand.

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.

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."

PART II.

EXERCISES IN ORTHOGRAPHY.

CHAPTER I.

Containing instances of false ORTHOGRAPHY, arranged under the respective Rules.

RULE I.

Monosyllables ending with f, 1, or s, preceded by a single vowel, double the final consonant: as, staff, mill, pass, &c. The on'y excep tions are, of, if, as, is, has, was, yes, his, this, us, and thus. See Volume I. page 52.

IT is no great merit to spel properly; but a great defect to do it incorrectly.

Jacob worshiped his Creator, leaning on the top

of his staf.

We may place too little, as well as too much stres upon dreams.

Our manners should be neither gros, nor excessively refined.