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Then does the grassy food the flock delight,
As the green banquet hails their gladden'd sight.
See how familiarly they throng their friend,
Watch all his motions, all his steps attend.
Not so when Spring her smiling reign resumes,
And blossom'd roses scatter sweet perfumes;
While plenty stretching to the distant main,
Smiles on the mountain, and adorns the plain;
Then, quite forgetful of the snow-clad ground
And shepherd's care, they run excursive round :
Grow strange and shy amid a life of ease,
Desert their friend, and wander as they please.

Just so the Christian flock too frequent stray When fortune strews her favours in their way. Oft do they mingle in the giddy throng

Where pleasure chains them with her syren song: And while loud laughter shakes the festive board, Forget themselves, their glory, and their Lord.

But when these bubble joys no more abound, And adverse storms begin to gather round; Then to their duty they repentant turn And in affliction's school submission learn. - Ah mighty Shepherd! when my feet would rove In pleasure's path, forgetful of thy love; Restrain my steps 'ere they to evil lead And let thy thunders threaten o'er my head, That soon reclaim'd, I kiss the healing rod Which checks my guilt, and brings me back to God.

LINES, ON SEEING THE CASTS OF MESSRS, PITT*, FOX, AND THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE, TAKEN FROM THEIR FACES WITHIN A FEW HOURS AFTER DEATH, BY MR. NOLLEKINS.

(By Mr. Pratt.)

YE faithful images of Death,
Form'd, when the newly-parted breath,
Had struggling left its house of clay,
Alas! what changes ye display;
Changes so vast, I scarcely find,
One trait of visage or of mind.

Behold within a few short hours,
A monarch each of mental powers,
Behold two wonders of the world,
From wit and wisdom's empire hurl'd!
A third-the sovereign of the gay
Dethron'd from Fashion's, Beauty's, sway,
Three naked masks, they now appear
The mockery of what they were.

From lips like those of deadly pale,
Where still the marks of pain prevail;

We have understood that forty-two Busts of MR. PITT, from these casts, are already ordered, at one hundred guineas each; and a yet greater number of MR. Fox, and the DUCHESS, at the same price.

And in each lineament is seen,
Where the last agonies have been―
Ah, could I think— had I not heard,
With mute attention every word,-
Ah, could I think, my raptur'd ear,
As to the music of the sphere,

Had fixed me list'ning on the spot,
My sleep my health, myself forgot,
Where Britain, Europe, seem'd to wait
The issue of their deep debate?
By turns I felt PITT's awful sense,
And glow'd with Fox's eloquence;
Unwarped by faction, the free mind,
To each the patriot palm assigned.

And who, fair DEVON, could suppose,
That lifeless lids, alas! like those
Sunk and distorted by disease,

Had e'er possessed such power to please?
Had softly veil'd those eyes of fire

That long monopoliz'd the lyre;

When flush'd with youth, in beauty's grace
I first survey'd that alter'd face;
That face which more than beauty knew,
Opening high virtues to the view;
For Bounty in each feature smil'd,
And sorrow call'd thee pity's child.
Had'st thou an error? 'twas excess,
A wish, beyond the means to bless,
That all the injur'd and the poor,
Should feel a wrong, a want, no more.

Ah! had an ampler scope been given
To her warm heart by favouring Heaven,
Had the same stretch of boundless power
That aid's War's tyrant to devour,
Myriads of widows, orphans, friends,
Whose heart-strings(now that tyrant rends,
Would, from her hand have found relief,
And ev'ry lenitive of grief.

And shall such feelings cause a foe To the prov'd friend of want and woe? No! thou pale semblance copied here, Which mine eye traces thro' a tear, There lives not one, whose eye, like mine, Will not drop incense on thy shrine.

FLOWRETS OF LITERATURE.

On perusing the great number of works of fancy, from which the present volume has been composed, we have often met with passages which we conceived well worthy of preservation from the oblivious fate which would await them, amidst the redundant matter with which they were enveloped. We have therefore collected a variety of elegant and beautiful sentiments from several of the new Novels, &c. which we have perused, and have classed them under the head of Flowrets of Literature, leaving it to the taste of our readers to give each passage an appropriate reference or appellation.

LITERARY AND PIOUS OBSERVATIONS OF THE LATE

DR. BEATTIE.

His genius social as his judgment clear.

MALLET.

POPE'S "Essay on man" is the finest philosophical poem in the world; but it seems to me to do more honour to the imagination than to the understanding of its author; I mean its sentiments are

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