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Let his crook be with hyacinthis bound,"
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,
YE shepherds, give ear to my lay,
She was fair-and my passion begun;
Perhaps I was void of all thought;
Seems for ever adorn'd with a smile.
She is faithless, and I am undone :
What it cannot instruct you to cure.
How fair and how fickle they be.
Alas! from the day that we met,
The glance that undid my repose.
The flower, and the shrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me.
The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,
But we are not to find them our own; Fate never bestow'd such delight
As I with my Phyllis had known.
O ye woods, spread your branches apace!
I would hide with the beasts of the chase;
Yet my reed shall resound through the grove
THE BEGGAR'S PETITION.
PITY the sorrows of a poor old man!
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; Oh! give relief-and Heaven will bless your store.
These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years; And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek, Has been the channel to a stream of tears.
Yon house, erected on the rising ground,
And Grandeur a magnificent abode :
(Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!)
Oh! take me to your hospitable dome;
Keen blows the wind and piercing is the cold!. Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, For I am poor and miserably old.
Should I reveal the sources of my grief,
Heaven sends misfortunes-why should we repine?
A little farm was my paternal lot,
Then like the lark I sprightly hail'd the morn; But ah! oppression forced me from my cot; My cattle died, and blighted was my corn.
My daughter-once the comfort of my age!
My tender wife-sweet soother of my care!
And left the world to wretchedness and me.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man!
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh! give relief-and Heaven will bless your store.
HYMN TO BENEVOLENCE.
HAIL, Source of transport ever new!
Too vast for little minds to know,
Daughter of God! delight of man!
Which still thy hand sustains;
By thee sweet Peace her empire spread,
And Discord gnash'd in chains.