On a foggy Night.

Soon stifles his reason, and sinks to a beast,
Or, mad with the fumes of a Bacchanal priest*,
He staggers about in a fog.

The Sailor, who scuds through the boisterous seas;
Content with his biscuit and grog;

His dangers subdu'd, he flies home with the breeze, To riot in plenty, and pleasure, and ease,

But shipwrecks his prize in a fog.

The Soldier, who follows the drum and the fife, For honour, and plunder, and prog;

Who thrives upon blood, and grows happy from strife,

May lose for a phantom a limb or a life,
Or forfeit his fame in a fog.

The choleric Man, who his wrath to assuage,
With veng'ance his neighbour would flog;
His reason has lost in the mist of his rage,
And he doubles his fist, like a fool, to engage
With a post or a pump in a fog.

The Lover, whose fancy has kindled a flame,
Transforms to an angel his Mog;

*The Priests of Bacchus, the God of drunkards, finished the celebration of their Bacchanalia with frantic intoxication.

On a foggy Night.

Or handsome, or ugly, 'tis always the same,
He fights for his Helen, like Troy for its Dame,
And parts with his wits in a fog.

The volatile Frenchmen, delighting in change,
Have taken King Stork, for King Log:
In bondage at home, around Europe they range,
To give the world freedom, by tyranny strange,
And liberty lose in a fog.

The grumblers, and growlers, who always complain,
And croak in a ditch, like a frog;

Who aim at a portion no mortal can gain,

And rummage the world for contentment in vain,
Are wand'ring from home, in a fog.

The Idler, whom nothing that nature displays,
Can out of his indolence jog ;

No sunshine of science enlightens his days;
Thro' mists of thick ignorance heedless he strays,
And blunders all life in a fog.

The Poet bewilder'd, creeps on with his song,
Though it drag at his heels like a clog ;

The theme has been crooked, and rambling, and

long;

But who can go right, where so many go wrong, Or clearly see things in a fog?

Agur's Prayer.

AGUR'S PRAYER.

Two things have I required of thee; deny me them not before I die. Remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me, lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, "Who is the Lord?" -or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain. Proverbs, xxx. 7, 8, 9.

KEEP me, O Lord, until I die!

Enlighten'd fervent Agur cries;

From want too low, or wealth too high,
Remote from vanity and lies.

Lest growing rich, I should grow proud,
Or madly aim at being great;
Or join the vain and gaudy crowd,
Or rush intemp'rate on my fate.

Lest having not a want to feel,

I should thy needful hand deny;
Or with presumption's heart of steel,

"Who is the Lord?" like Pharaoh, cry.

So, (if thy wisdom seeth best),

From abject poverty relieve ;

Lest, by too pungent want opprest,

I hopeless starve, or lawless thieve.

Agur's Prayer.

Lest chilling penury's cold blast

Should quench each gen'rous grateful flame; Or sunk in wretchedness at last,

Í murmur, and blaspheme thy name.

But bless me with a middle state;
My daily bread and peace prepare ;
Nor yet depress'd, nor yet elate,

But resting on thy constant care.

I would not seek the world's renown,
Nor fall beneath its terror vile;
I'd have my head above its frown,
I'd have my heart above its smile.

I'd have the means of being blest;

I'd have content, my bliss to know;
And Gratitude's expanding breast,
And Piety's young heav'n below.
I'd have the pow'r of doing good;

I'd have the will that good to do;
I'd stand as firm as Moses stood,

And be as meek and humble too.

I'd have a mind for science fair;
I'd have a soul of pious zeal;

With patience my own griefs to bear,

And skill a brother's wounds to heal.

Smiles.

Thee would I love-Thee only fear,
Yet be to all mankind a friend;,
And live but while I'm useful here,

Then find a calm and peaceful end.

But since I know not how to crave,

And thou well knowest to bestow,

That state and portion let me have,
Wherein thy praise I best may show..

SMILE S..

I LOVE to see the honest face,
That wears the cheerful smile;
I mean not Foppery's grimace
Nor Cunning's studied guile..
Nor do I mean the flimsy veil
That Flatt'ry's wont to wear,
When pouring its delusive tale

In Folly's list'ning ear.

Nor yet the gracious smile, that State

Deigns little folks to show;

Well pleas'd to think itself so great,

And others sunk so low.