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Dale, champaign, grove, and hill;
And Wisdom hides her skill.
Tell them, I AM, JEHOVAH said
At once above, beneath, around,
Lines written in the Church-yard of Richmond, Yorkshire.-By Herbert Knowles.
METHINKS it is good to be here,
If thou wilt let us build; but for whom?
But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom, The abode of the dead, and the place of the tomb.
Shall we build to Ambition? Oh, no! Affrighted he shrinketh away;
For see, they would pin him below,
In a small narrow cave, and begirt with cold clay, To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.
To Beauty? Ah, no! She forgets The charms which she wielded before; Nor knows the foul worm that he frets The skin which but yesterday fools could adore, For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore.
said 1 in dread,
yard of Ris rt Knowle
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mpass the g place of the to
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e frets could ad twhich it wa
Shall we build to the purple of Pride,—
Alas! they are all laid aside;
And here's neither dress nor adornment allow'd, But the long winding sheet, and the fringe of the shroud.
To Riches? Alas, 'tis in vain ;
Who hid, in their turns have been hid:
To the pleasures which Mirth can afford,
Ah! here is a plentiful board;
But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer,
Shall we build to Affection and Love?
Friends, brothers, and sisters, are laid side by side,
Unto Sorrow? The dead cannot grieve;
Which compassion itself could relieve:
Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow?
And here there are trophies enow.
The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise;
The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfill'd; And the third to the LAMB of the great sacrifice, Who bequeath'd us them both, when He rose to the skies.
FROM THE GERMAN OF KLIEST.
How rich the splendors of the western skies, In purple tints and glowing crimson bright! Where varying forms and shadowy landscapes
Mountains of gold, and flaming waves of light.
The streams, low murmuring, glide along the plains,
Or Night's sad songstress chants her long-drawn plaintive strains.
O Thou! my guide divine! whose sacred power
Still may thy love its future hours adorn,
Bless the mild evening of my mortal day,
And bid unclouded shine its last declining ray.
And ye! than wealth more priz'd, than fame
Ye friends for ever lov'd, ye chosen few!
THEODORE AND ROSETTA, OR THE DAY FLY.
Theo. Where had you those sweet flowers,
Ros. O Theodore, I got them by the way.
Theo. We'll eat the fruit for banquet to our meal,
Ros. It is the prettiest creature ever bred
Theo. Shew it.
My heart misgives me.
Open by degrees ; On some one limb I'll, to secure it, seize, O! with what wisdom are all things design'd Man of his GOD and latter end to mind! Duty and death are by all creatures taught: Tho' earthly, they raise heavenly minded thought. This fly GOD's goodness to instruct me sends : 0 may I learn the lesson GOD intends!
Ros. I little thought, dear Theodore, that I Brought you a preacher, when I brought a fly.
Theo. You have, for me and for Rosetta too; The same it teaches me, it teaches you.
Ros. What Theodore esteems a teacher fit,
Theo. Once more, my dear, the amiable mold
Bright various colour'd rays his wings adorn;