Sonnets on graver Subjects.

And rosy Health by thee holds on his way, And hearty Labour conquers mighty things, And balmy Rest unbroken slumber brings,

And rev'rend Age in second youth is gay. Nor to the body are thy gifts confin'd,

Thine is the wholesome atmosphere of soul; The tranquil spirit, and the active mind, Sweet self-possession, aud the world's controul.

SONNET TO ECONOMY.

ECONOMY! Arithmetician just!

True to thyself, and true to all besides, Thy portion is to thee a sacred trust,

And o'er thy dealings Purity presides.

Thou knowest well the worth of little cares,

The hours, and sums, the thoughtless throw

away,

With watchful prudence guiding thine affairs,
In calculation of a future day.

Acquiring, first, the treasures of the mind,
And then contriving honest means to live;
Not meanly anxious, nor profusely kind,

Thou knowest when to save, and when to give.
So mayst thou safe on Providence depend,
Be rich and good, and make an honour'd end!

Sonnets on graver Subjects.

SONNET TO INDUSTRY.

GREAT mover of mankind! Industry, thou
To health and happiness art near ally'd;
Before thee deserts vanish, mountains bow,
And plenty floats from far on every tide.
Man brings his doom to labour with his birth,
A naked tenant of a thorny soil;

He ploughs the sea, and delves the teeming earth,
By want incessant urg'd to ceaseless toil.
Thus Art began to guide the sinewy arm,
And Science rose to lead the thinking head,
While Genius gave to polish'd life a charm,
And Truth's and Nature's stores before it spread.
Creation acts above, around, beneath,

And man must act, or stagnate into death.

SONNET TO PATIENCE.

MEEK, quiet suff'rer on thy thorny bed,
Where thou art stretch'd to linger life away,
In secret doom'd thy bitter tears to shed,
Thro' many a sleepless night and cheerless day.
From thy sad home the gay and happy fly,
And leave thee solitude, and sad despair:

C

Sonnets on graver Subjects.

Yet not a murmur mingles with thy sigh,

Nor one complaint pollutes thy humble pray'r. Thy God-thy Friend still sooths thy soul to peace, With hope of heav'n inspires thy tranquil breast, Where soon the wicked shall from troubling cease, And soon the weary shall for ever rest : This makes thee triumph in the trying hour, Upheld by sacred Love, and sov'reign Pow'r.

SONNET TO AN INFANT.

POOR little helpless heir of woe!

Thy days of grief are just begun ;

Thy future destiny below

Is comprehended now by none: One thing alone is plainly seen,

That thou art born, and thou must die,

But what events shall pass between,

Time must unfold, and thou must try.

Yet He, who doth the sparrow feed

Who makes the scented lily growWho clothes with grass the verdant mead, And bids the tender flow'ret blow

He, makes thy infant days his care,

And can, and will thy lot prepare.

Sonnets on graver Subjects.

SONNET TO YOUTH.

THOU hast thy days of weakness past, And youthful vigour paints thy cheek; Before thee Folly's spells are cast,

And pleasures thy fond hopes bespeak. A thousand snares are round thee spread, And thou art heedless wont to rove, With dreaming fancy in thy head,

And in thy heart the warmth of love. Pursue, or ere it be too late,

The voice of Truth with ardent aim, Nor treasure up a future fate,

Of guilt, and ignorance, and shame : So shalt thou pass thy fruitful days, In dignity, delight, and praise.

SONNET TO MANHOOD.

NOW bustling middle life is thine,
And active energy appears,
Directed to one grand design,

Of hoarding up for future years.
The cares of life oppress thine head,

Or vain ambition swells thine heart,

16

Sonnets on graver Subjects:

And thou art after phantoms led,
Forgetful of thy better part.

Ah! soon shall life's gay visions fade,
As dreams depart at opening day,
Nor wealth, ner fame, shall give thee aid,
Thyself but dust, and ashes they,

Then labour for a nobler prize,
The lasting treasures of the skies.

SONNET TO OLD AGE.

POOR, wither'd, tott'ring wreck of man!
With silver locks, and wrinkled brow,
With toothless gums, and visage wan,

And back constrain'd with age to bow.
Nor scenes, nor sounds can give delight,
And tasteless is thy dainty food,
Deaf are thine ears, and dim thy sight,

And coldly sluggish creeps thy blood.

Ah! quit thy ling'ring grasp of earth,

Thy thoughts and hopes to heav'n remove,

For He, who gave thee mortal birth,
Can give thee endless life above.

The hoary head, when righteous found,
By grace shall be with glory crown'd.