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The Task Continued.
God made the country, and man made the town.*
Book ii. The Timepiece.
O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Make enemies of nations, who had else,
Like kindred drops, been mingled into one.
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother tongue.
There is a pleasure in poetic pains
Which only poets know.
Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavor.
* "God the first garden made, and the first city Cain."
† Be England what she will
With all her faults she is my country still.
The Farewell. CHURCHILL.
She that asks
Her dear five hundred friends.
Book iii. The Garden.
Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that hast survived the fall!
Great contest follows, and much learned dust.
From reveries so airy, from the toil
Of dropping buckets into empty wells,
And growing old in drawing nothing up.
How various his employments whom the world
Book iv. Winter Evening.
And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
'T is pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,
Book v. Winter Morning Walk.
But war's a game which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
He is the freeman whom the truth makes free.
Book vi. Winter Walk at Noon.
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds;
Here the heart
May give a useful lesson to the head,
And Learning wiser grow without his books.
I would not on my list of friends
(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Shine by the side of every path we tread
Built God a church, and laughed His word to scorn.
How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude!
A fool must now and then be right, by chance.
That, though on pleasure she was bent,
A hat not much the worse for wear.
Lines to his Mother's Picture.
O that those lips had language! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Walking with God.
What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!
Supposed to be Written by Alexander Selkirk.
I am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute.
O Solitude! where are the charms sages have seen in thy face?
But the sound of the church-going bell
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared.
How fleet is a glance of the mind!
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
Observing some names of little note. There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark! And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk !
A Fable. (Moral.)
"Tis Providence alone secures
In every change both mine and yours.
The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
Is such a friend that one had need
very much his friend indeed
To pardon or to bear it.
The Needless Alarm.
Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away.