By angels watch'd in Eden's bow'rs,
Our parents pafs'd their peaceful hours,
Nor guilt nor pain they knew;
But on the day which usher'd in
The hell-born train of mortal fin,
The heav'nly guards withdrew.
Look down, much-honour'd fhade, below;
Still let thy pity aid our woe;
Stretch out thy healing hand:
Refume those feelings, which on earth
Proclaim'd thy patriòt love and worth,
And fav'd a finking land.
Search with thy more than mortal eye.
The breafts of all thy friends; defcry
What there has got poffeffion:
See if thy unfufpecting heart,
In fome for truth miftook not art,
For principle, profeffion.
From thefe, the pefts of human kind,
Whom royal bounty cannot bind,
Protect our parent king:
Unmask their treach'ry to his fight,
Drag forth the vipers into light,
And crush them ere they fting.
If fuch his trust and honours fhare,
Again exert thy guardian care,
Each venom'd heart disclose :
On him, on him, our all depends;
Oh, fave him from his treach'rous friends!
He cannot fear his foes..
Tho' fingularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step afide,
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,
Where love our hours employs;
No noify neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling ftranger near,
To fpoil our heart-felt joys.
If folid happiness we prize,
Within our breaft this jewel lies;
And they are fools who roam :
The world has nothing to beftow,
From our own felves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
Of reft was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing fhe left
That fafe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excurfion o'er,
The disappointed bird once more
Explor'd the facred bark.
Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs,
We, who improve his golden hours,
By fweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A paradife below.
Our babes fhall richest comforts bring;
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring,
Whence pleasures ever rife:
We'll form their minds with ftudious care,
To all that's manly, good, or fair,
And train them for the fkies.
While they our wifeft hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, fupport our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondeft loves repay,
And recompence our cares.
No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot :
Monarchs! we envy not your fate;
We look with pity on the great,
And blefs our humble lot.
Our portion is not large, indeed;
But then how little do we need!
For Nature's calls are few;
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may fuffice,
And make that little do.
We'll therefore relish, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has fent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lofe the prefent hour.
To be refign'd, when ills betide,
Patient when favours are deny'd,
And pleas'd with favours giv'n;
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part,
This is that incense of the heart
Whose fragrance smells to heav'n.
We'll afk no long-protracted treat,
Since winter-life is feldom sweet;
But, when our feaft is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our fons, with envious eyes,
The relicks of our store.
Thus, hand in hand, thro' life we'll go :
It's chequered paths of joy and woe
With cautious fteps we'll tread;
Quit it's vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
While Conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And chear our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And fmooth the bed of death.
LAC'D on the verge of youth, my mind
Life's op'ning scene survey'd :
I view'd it's hills of various kind,
Afflicted and afraid.
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