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VANITY OF WEALTH.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.
more, thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With Science tread the wondrous way,
Where Mirth and Temperance mix the bowl;
And be by blessing Beauty blest.
Thus taste the feast by Nature spread, Ere Youth and all its joys are fled; Come, taste with me the balm of life, Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife. I boast, whate'er for man was meant, In health, and STELLA, and content; And scorn! oh! let that scorn be thine! Mere things of clay, that dig the mine.
HAPPINESS OF A MODERATE FORTUNE,
FROM THE FRENCH OF MR. GRESSET.
BY JOHN LANGHORNE, D.D.
O GODDESS of the golden mean,
Thy only subjects are the wise.
See, foster'd in thy fav'ring shade,
Had never form'd the tuneful line;
In vain you slight the flowery crown,
That fame wreaths round the favour'd head!
Whilst laurel'd victory and renown
Their heroes from thy shades have led; There form'd, from courtly softness free,, By rigid virtue and by thee.
By thee were form'd, from cities far,
Thrice happy he, on whose calm breast
Whose wishes never learnt to stray.
Far from the crowd's low-thoughted strife,
He envies not the pomp of life,
A length of rent-roll, or of name: For safe he views the vale-grown elm,
While thunder-sounding storms the mountain pine o'erwhelm.
Of censure's frown he feels no dread,
And while alternate conquest sways
And calmly hears the wild storm roar. Ev'n Nature's groans, unmov'd with fear, And bursting worlds, he'd calmly hear.
Such are the faithful hearts you love,
The few whom interest never sway'd;
Soft sleep, that lov'st the peaceful cell,
While no terrific dreams dispel
The slumbers of the sober hour; Which oft, array'd in darkness drear, Wake the wild eye of pride to fear.