The Teachings of Content.
'Twas now he labour'd to abound,
To rival all his neighbours round,
And call the lands his own.
"Twas done but still his circles spread,
And his ambitious projects fed
On visions yet unknown.
'Twas now he toil'd, he said, to have
The voice of Fame beyond the grave
His gen'rous deeds recall;
How Gripus by his will bestow'd
The Almshouse, and the School endow'd,
And built the Hospital.
As yet his schemes could not afford
To lend one penny to the Lord,
Or give the poor a mite;
No widow now his purse reliev'd,
No orphan now a boon receiv'd-
He could not bear their sight.
At length, the day of goodness past,
Slow-footed Wrath o'ertook at last
Its slumb'ring, thoughtless prey;
For oft, 'midst summer's sky serene,
The pealing storm collects unseen,
That sweeps our pride away.
The Teachings of Content.
His ships, with eastern treasures fraught,
Were by a sudden tempest caught,
And sunk a ruin'd heap;
Those from the west, a gentler gale
But drove for pirates to assail,
And plunder on the deep.
At home the flames, at midnight hour,
Burst forth with fierce, resistless pow'r,
And rapidly destroy'd
His parchments, notes, and bonds-the whole,
His house, his goods, his god, his soul,
And left a dreadful void!
No more by prosp'rous wealth sustain'd,
The mimic'd love, the rev'rence feign'd,
Now vanish'd with their source;
He had no merit past to plead
He ne'er had done a gen'rous deed,
And was disgrac'd of course.
To crown his sorrows, sharp disease
Began his withering frame to seize,
And bow'd his hoary head:
Uuthought-of Death drew swiftly near,
And made eternity appear
An unknown source of dread.
The Teachings of Content.
Now ev'ry stream of hope grew dry,
That discontent was wont to try,
From channels here below;
He plainly saw, alas! too late,
The mercy of his past estate,
Which guilt had turn'd to woe.
Cut off from earth, his anxious mind
Essay'd in God, in heav'n to find
What earth no more could give;
"Save, Lord!" he cried,
"Now, on the borders of the
"Instruct a wretch to live!"
The pray'r was heard; for Penitence
Ne'er gave to Mercy's ears offence,
When pleading in distress.
"Go, heav'nly Peace!" said Mercy, "go,
"And yonder wretched mortal show
"The way of Happiness."
Peace came, and brought a pardon good, Wrote in the Mediator's blood,
And sprinkled conscience clear;
Submissive at his Master's feet,
He found Content could render sweet
The portion most severe.
Dame Fortune, and the six Boxes.
Faith bade him firm on Truth rely,
And Hope gave wings to mount on high,
While Patience taught to wait;
Love led him grateful thrus to sing
Of Wisdom ordering ev'ry thing,
And blessing ev'ry state.
"In danger, I was most secure, "In riches, I was truly poor,
"Most ill, when least in pain;
"Now poor and sick, and old and sad,
"I'm rich and healthy, young and glad,
"And all my loss is gain."
DAME FORTUNE, AND THE SIX BOXES.
Pick, and chuse, and take the best.
MAN, in his house of clay confin'd,
Is always to the future blind,
And often present things surveys,
With unreflecting, brutelike gaze.
Fix'd on the superfice alone,
Results, and qualities unknown,
Dame Fortune, and the six Boxes.
In spite of Truth's or Reason's voice,
He makes a frequent wretched choice;
Still seeking happiness to meet,
Where all is danger and deceit.
Expecting more than earth can give,
He must in disappointment live,
O'erwhelm'd at length in deeper woes,
The higher expectation rose.
To prove my doctrine orthodox is,
Come, see Dame Fortune's magic boxes.
'Twas in a city's spacious street,
The fickle Goddess fix'd her seat.
Beneath a stately temple's dome,
She held her Court, and staid at home,
Inviting all the passers by
To venture in, their luck to try.
A new device the Dame had got,
To try men's choice, and shew their lot.
Six boxes, made of solid wood,
Firm on six brazen altars stood;
Each box had written on the lid
A sentence, in enigma hid.
The first this strange inscription had
"Here is enclosed nothing Bad." Upon the next this label stood"Here is enclos'd a little Good."
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