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MEDITATION IN A GROVE.
SWEET Muse, descend and bless the shade,
But hence, ye wanton young
Mine is a purer flame;
No Phillis shall infect the air
JESUS has all my pow'rs possest,
Some of the fairest choirs above
His charms shall make my numbers flow,
While silence sits on ev'ry bough,
I'll carve our passion on the bark,
Shall drop and bear some mystic mark
That JESUS dy'd for me.
The swains shall wonder when they read
That Heav'n itself came down, and bled
To win a mortal's love.
HERO'S SCHOOL OF MORALITY.
THERON among his travels found
Mould, moss, and shades, had overgrown
The sculpture of the crumbling stone,
Yet ere he pass'd, with much ado
"Enough," he cry'd; "I'll drudge no more, "In turning the dull Stoics o'er:
"Let pedants waste their hours of ease
"Methinks a mould'ring pyramid "Says all that the old sages said: “For me, these shatter'd tombs contain "More morals than the Vatican.
"The dust of heroes cast abroad,
"And kick'd and trampled in the road,
"That lately wars and crowns design'd,
They are but castles in the air.
"The tow'ring height and frightful falls,
"Of smoking kingdoms and their kings,
"That living could not bear to see
"An equal, now lies torn and dead,
"With solemn horror thy sad fate,
Thy carcass scatter'd on the shore "Without a name, instructs me more "Than my whole library before.
"Lie still, my Plutarch, then, and sleep, "And my good Seneca may keep "Your volumes clos'd for ever too, "I have no further use for you: "For when I feel my virtue fail, "And my ambitious thoughts prevail; "I'll take a turn among the tombs, "And see whereto all glory comes. "There the vile foot of ev'ry slave, "Insults a Charles or a Gustave:
Beggars with awful ashes sport, "And tread the Cæsars in the dirt."
I AM not concern'd to know,
Yet to-morrow I shall be
Heir to the best part of me.
Glitt'ring stones and golden things, Wealth and honours that have wings, Ever flutt'ring to be gone,
I could never call my own:
I've a mighty part within That the world hath never seen,