Extend thy ev'ry noble pow'r to save
The wretch juft tott'ring o'er an early grave;
For, noble were the deed that could impart
Reviving vigour to the drooping heart;
For, then no more the fatal branch shall bind,
In golden ties, the loft enchanted mind;
Tear ev'ry fibre from the verdant root,
And blast each dang'rous blossom ere it shoot :
So shall the praise of ranfom'd millions rise,
In grateful incense, to the echoing skies;
So through the world thy matchless fame 'extend,
And wond'ring nations hail thee mercy's friend ;
Thee, first in ev'ry virtue, ev'ry worth,
That gives to glory or to génius birth ;
Let thy avenging, thy all-conqu’ring, hand
Give peace and freedom to an injur'd land!
Glory be thine; and let pale mis'ry prove
The joys of friendship and the bliss of love;
And heav'nly liberty's celestial ray
Beam o'er the world one pure eternal day!

Miss H. FALCONÁR.

S E C T.

X.

AN APPEAL TO OUR FEELINGS, WITH RESPECT TO

THE NEGROES.

PERIS

ERISH th' illib'ral thought which would debase The native genius of the fable race !

Perish

Perish the proud philosophy which fought
To rob them of the pow'rs of equal thought !
Does then th' immortal principle within
Change with the casual colour of a skin ?
Does matter govern fpirit? or is mind
Degraded by the form to which 'tis join'd ?

No: they have heads to think, and hearts to feel,
And souls to act, with firm tho' erring zeal ;
For they have keen affections, kind desires,
Love strong as death, and active patriot fires ;
All the rude energy, the fervid flame,
Of high-soul'd paffion, and ingenuous shame;
Strong but luxuriant virtues boldly shoot
From the wild vigour of a favage root.

Nor weak their sense of honour's proud controul ; For pride is virtue in a Pagan soul ; A sense of worth, a conscience of desert, A high, unbroken haughtiness of heart; That self-fame stuff which erst proud empires sway'd, Of which the conquerors of the world were made. Capricious fate of man! that very pride In Afric scourg'd, in Rome was deify'd.

Miss MORE.

FRIENDSHIP is the joy of reason,

Dearer yet than that of love.

Love

Love but lasts a transient season,

Friendlhip makes the bliss above.

Who would lose the secret pleasure

Felt, when soul with soul unites ! Other blessings have their measure, Friendlhip without bound delights.

DR. HAWKESWORTH.

I Read God's awful name emblazond big h

With golden letters on th' illumin’d sky;
Nor less the mystic characters I see
Wrought in each flower, infcrib'd on ev'ry tree;
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze
I hear the voice of God

among

the trees.
With thee in shady folitudes I walk,
With thee in busy crowded cities talk ;
In every creature own thy forming power,
In each erent thy providence adore.

Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul:
Thus shall I rest, unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.

Then when the last, the clofing hour draws nigh, And earth recedes before my swimming eye;

When

When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I stand and stretch my view to either state ;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

Mrs. BARBAULD.

S E C T. XIII.

ON PROSPERITY AND ADVERSITY.

IF

F the soft hand of winning pleasure leads

By living waters, and through flowery meads,
When all is smiling, tranquil, and ferene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene;
Oh! teach me to elude the latent snaie,
And whisper to my sliding heart-beware!
With caution let me hear the syren's voice,
And doubtful with a trembling heart rejoice.

If friendless in a vale of tears I stray,
Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way ;
Still let my steady soul thy goodness fee,
And with strong confidence lay hold on thee,
With equal eye my various lot receive ;
Resign'd to die, or resolute to live ;
Prepar’d to kiss the sceptre or the rod,
While God is seen in all, and all in God.

Mrs. BARBAULD.

I.
EHOLD where breathing love divine
В

Our dying master stands !
His weeping followers gathering round
Receive his last commands.

II.
From that mild teacher's parting lips

What tender accents fell !
The gentle precept which he gave
Became its author well.

III.
Bless’d is the man whose soft'ning heart

Feels all another's pain ;
To whom the supplicating eye
Was never rais'd in vain :

IV.
Whofe breast expands with gen'rous warnath,

A ftranger's woes to feel ;
And bleeds in pity o'er the wound

He wants the power to heal.

He spreads his kind supporting arms

To every child of grief;
His secret bounty largely flows,

And brings unask'd relief!