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To thy straw couch, and number unalarm'd.
For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd
All that is human in me, to protect
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee I will dig thy grave,
And when I place thee in it, tighing say,
I knew at least one hare that had a friend.

How various his employments, whom the world
Calls idle, and who justly in return
Esteems that busy world an idler too!
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful industry enjoyed at home,
And nature in her cultivated trim
Dressed to his taile, inviting him abroad
Can he want occupation who has these?
Will he be idle who has much e'enjoy ?
Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease,
Not flothful; happy to deceive the time,
Not watte it; and aware that human life
Is but a loan to be repaid with use,
When he shall call his debtors to account,
From whom are all our blessings, business finds
Ev'n here. While sedulous I seek a'improve,
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd,
The mind he gave me ; driving it, though flack
Too oft, and inuch impeded in its work
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain,
To its just point the service of mankind..
He that attends to his interior self,
That has a heart and keeps it: has a miąd
That hungers, and supplies it; and who seeks
A social, not a diilipated life,
Has business. Feels himself engag'd e' atchieve
No unimportant, though a filent talk.
A life all turbulence and noise, may seem
To him that leads it, wise and to be prais'd ;
But wisdom is a pearl with most success
Sought in ftill water, and beneath clear skies,
He that is ever occupied in forms,
Or dives not for it, or brings up instead,
Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize.

The morning finds the self-fequester'd man Fresh for his talk, intend what task he may. Whether inclement seasons recommend His warm but fiinple home, where he enjoys With her who Mares his pleasures and his heart, Sweet converse, fipping calm the fragrant lymph Which neatly she prepares ; then to his book Well chofen, and not fullenly perused In felfish filence, but imparted oft

As ought occurs that the may smile to hear,
Or turn to nourishment, digested well.
Or if the garden with its many cares,
All well repay'd, demand him, he attends
The welcome call, conscious how much the hand
Of lubbard labor needs his watchful eye,
Oft loit'ring lazily if not o'erseen,
Or misapplying bis unskilful strength.
Nor does he govern only or direct,
But much performs himself. No works indeed
That ask robuk tough sinews bred to toil,
Servile employ—but such as may amuse,
Not tire, demanding rather skill 'than force.
Proud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees
That meet (no barren interval between)
With pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford,
Which, save himself who trains them, none can foete
These therefore are his own peculiar charge,
No meaner hand inay discipline the shoots,
None but his steel approach them. What is weak,
Distemper'd, or has kost prolific pow'rs
Impair'd by age, his unrelenting hand
Dooms to the knife. Nor does he spare the soft
And succulent that feeds its giant growth
But barren, at th' expence of neighb'ring twigs
Less oftentatious, and yet studded thick
With hopeful gems. The rest, no portion left
That may disgrace his art, or disappoint
Large expectation, he disposes neat
At measur'd distances, that air and sun
Admitted freely may afford their aid,
And ventilate and warm the swelling buds.
Hence summer has her riches, autumn hence,
And hence ev'n winter fills his wither'd hand
With bluthing fruits, and plenty not his own,
Fair recompense of labour well bestow'd
And wife precaution, which a clime so rude
Makes needful still, whose spring is but the child
Of churlith winter, in her froward moods
Discov'ring much the temper of her fire.
For oft, as if in her the streain of mild
Maternal nature had revers'd its course,
She brings her infants fouth with many smiles,
But once deliver d, kills them with a frown.
He, therefore, timely warm'd, himself fupplies
Her want of care, screening and keeping warm
The plenteous bloom, that no rough blast may sweep
His garlands from the boughs. Again, as oft
As the sun peeps and vernal airs breathe mild,
The fence withdrawn, he gives them ev'ry beam,
And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day,


MORNING, or the COMPLAINT. An American Eclogue.

(By the Rev. Mr. GREGORY.)

AR from the favage bandit's fierce alarms,

Or distant din of horrid despot's arms,
Tho' Pennsylvania boasts her peaceful plain,
Yet there in blood her petty tyrants reign.

With waving pines tho' vocal woods be crown'a,
And stream-fed vales with living wealth abound,
To golden fields tho' rip'ning rays descend,
With blushing fruit tho' loaded branches bend;
To those who ne'er muft freedom's blessings taste,
'Tis barren all, 'tis all a worthless waste.

While hoarse the cataract murmur'd on the galen
And chilling dews swept through the murky dale
Along the hills the difinal tempest howl'a,
And lightnings Aafh'd, and deep the thunder rollid;
Beneath a leafless tree, ere morn arose,
The slave Adala thus laments his woes :
Ye grifly spectres, gather round my feat,
From caves unbleít, that wretches groans repeat !
Torrific forms, from misty lakes arife!
And bloody metcors threaten thro' the skies!
Oh curs’d destroyers of our hapless race,
Of human kind the terror and disgrace!
Lo! hoits of dusky captives, to my view,
Demand a deep revenge! demand their due !
And frowning chiefs now dart athwart the gloom,
And o'er the Talt sea wave pronounce your doom,“
But Gods are just, and oft the Itroke forbear,
To plunge the guilty in tenfold defpair.

Lift high the scourge, my foul the rack disdains ;

I pane for freedom and my native plains !
With limbs benumb'd my poor companions lie ;
Oppress'd by pain and want the aged figh;
Thro' reedy huts the driving tempeft pours,
Their festering wounds receive the fickly thowr's;
In mad'ning draughts our lords their senses itcep,
And doom their llaves to stripes and death in Neep :
Now, while the bitter blast surrounds my head,
To times long past my reilless soul is led,
Far, far beyond the azure hills, to groves
Of ruddy fruit, where beauty fearless roves-
O blissful seats! O self-approving joys !
Nature's plain dictates ! ignorance of vice!
O guiltless hours! Our cares and wants were few,
No arts of luxury, or deceit we knew.
Our labour, sport-to tend, our cottage care,
Or from the palm the luscious juice prepare ;

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This pallid race, whose hearts are bound in steel,
By dint of suffering teach them how to feel.

Or to some despot's lawlefs will betray'd,
Give them to know what wretches they have made!
Beneath the lash let them refign their breath,
Or court, in chains, the clay-cold hand of death.
Or, worst of ills! within each callous brealt,
Cherish uncurbid the dark internal pest,
Bid AV'RIÇE swell with undiminih'd rage,
While no new worlds th'accursed thirst alsuage;
Then bid the monsters on each other turn,
The fury paffions in disorder burn ;
Bid DISCORD flourish, civil crimes increase,
Nor one fond with arise that pleads for peace
Till with their crimes in wild confufion hurl'd,
They wake t' eternal anguish in a future world.

EVENING, or the FUGITIVE. An American Eclogue.

[By the same Gentleman.)

MOMBÁZE, ZAMBOIA with a Child.


AY whither, wand'rer, points thy cheerless way,

When length’ning shades announce the close of day?
In yon wild waste no friendly roof thou'lt find,
The haunt of serpents, and the savage kind.
And sure remembʼrance mocks me, or I trace
In thine che semblance of Zamboia's face ?
Yet scarce thyself! for in thy alter'd eye,
I read the records of hard destiny.-
From thy rack'd belom fighs that ceaseless flow,
A man bespeak thee, exercis'd in woc,
Say, then, what chance has burst thy rigid chains,
Has led thee frantic o'er these diftant plains ?
What potent sorrows can thy peace infeft?
What crimes conceal'd prey on thy anxious breaft?

No crimes this heart infeít, this hand defile,
Or frantic drive me o'er a foreign soil.
A murder'd wife, and wrongs unmatch'd I mourn,
And buried joys, that never shall return!'
If, then, thou’rt tempted by the traitor's meed,
Take this poor life, and prosper by the deed!

This Eclogue was written during the Americau war.

Not the rich produce of Angola's fhore,
Not all the mifer's heap'd and glittering store,
Not all that pride would grafp, or pomp display,
Should tempt this hand the wretched to betray.
No traitors dwell within this blest domain,
The friends of peace we live, a guilelels train.
Grief dims thy eye, or gladly would'it thou sec
Thy lov'd Mombaze yet survives in me.
Can't thou forget? I taught thy youth to dare
Thc silvan herd, and wage the desp'rate war ;
Can'lt thou forget? One common lot we drew,
With 'hee inchain'd, a captive's fate I knew :
Dilruit ne not, but unreserv'd disclose
The anxious tale that in thy bosom glows ;
To part our griets is oft to mitigate,
And social forrows blunt the darts of fate.

Dear to my fight that form, and doubly dear
Thy well-known accents meet Zamboia's car.
Oh! had I died, and left the name of Nave
Deep, deep entomb'd within an early grave!
Oh! had I died, e'er ruthless fates constrain,
With thee enthrall’d, to cross the western main!
Oh! to have met a glorious death in arms,
And ne'er beheld Melinda's fatal charms !
Time would be Niort, and memory would fail,
To dwell diftin&ly on the various tale.-
Tedious to tell what treach'rous arts were try'd,
To sooth the smart of full revolting pride.-
I liv'd, and lov'd—Then kiss'd the fatal chain ;
No joy but one to cheer a life of pain. -
Yet witness bear, thou dear departed ghost,
That lonely rov'it thy Gambia's facred coast !
How sweet the toil that met the morning's ray,
How light the labour that o'er-lasted day!
The reed-built hovel, and the scanty fare,
Imperial bliss could give, Melinda there!
Soft was my pillow, on thy gentle breast,
When o'er-press’d Nature droop'd in want of reft!
And if a rebel tear disgrac'd my eye,
Thine was the tear, and thine the bursting figh.
Bliss I could boaft, unenvied had it passid,
But bliss too great for hapless Naves to last.

A wretch, who banish'd from his native climo,
Defil'd with many a black and monitrous crime,
Prefided o'er us, and with iron hand
Held ravage [way o'er all the servile band,


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