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For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,

Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led,

Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate; Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 7

“Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn, Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,

To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

“ There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,

That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch,

And pore upon the brook that babbles by. “ Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, . Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

“One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill,

Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he;

“The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne; Approach and read — for thou canst read — the lay,

Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH.
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,

A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown;
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,

Heaven did a recompense as largely send; He gave to misery all he had — a tear,

He gained from Heaven - 't was all he wished - a friend. No further seek his merits to disclose,

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode;
There they alike in trembling hope repose, –

The bosom of his Father and his God.

NATHANIEL COTTON. 1721-1788.

Cotxon was a physician by profession, and was particularly distinguished for his treatment of insanity. The poet Cowper was, for a time, under his care, for this malady, and speaks in commendatory terms of his humanity and sweetness of temper. Cotton wrote Visions in Verse, for children, and a volume of poetical Miscellanies.

THE FIRESIDE.
DEAR CALOE, while the busy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy and the proud,

In folly's maze advance,
Though singularity and pride
Be called our choice, we'll step aside,

Nor join the giddy dance.

From the gay world we 'll oft retire,
To our own family and fire,

Where love our hours employs;
No noisy neighbor enters here,
Nor intermeddling stranger near,

To spoil our heartfelt joys.

If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,

And they are fools who roam ;
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,

And that dear hut-our home.

Of rest was Noah's dove bereft,
When, with impatient wing, she left
That safe retreat — the ark.

Giving her vain excursion o'er,
The disappointed bird once more

Explored the sacred bark.

Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers,
We, who improve his golden hours,

By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good

A Paradise below.

Our babes shall richest comforts bring;
If tutored right, they 'll prove a spring

Whence pleasures ever rise.
We'll form their minds with studious care,
To all that's manly, good and fair,

And train them for the skies.

While they our wisest hours engage,
They 'll joy our youth, support our age,

And crown our hoary hairs.
They'll grow in virtue every day,
And thus our fondest loves repay,

And recompense our cares.

No borrowed joys, – they 're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,

Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs ! we envy not your state;
We look with pity on the great,

And bless our humbler lot.

Our portion is not large, indeed;
But then how little do we need!

For Nature's calls are few;
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,

And make that little do.

We'll therefore relish, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,

Nor aim beyond our power ;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,

Nor lose the present hour.

To be resigned when ills betide,
Patient when favors are denied,

And pleased with favors given;
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part,
This is the incense of the heart,

Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
We'll ask no long-protracted treat,
Since winter-life is seldom sweet;

But when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,

The relics of our store.
Thus, hand in hand, through life we 'll go ;
Its chequered paths of joy and woe

With cautious step we'll tread;
Quit its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,

And mingle with the dead.

While conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall through the gloomy vale attend,

And cheer our dying breath ;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel, whisper peace,

And smooth the bed of death.

DR. THOMAS PERCY. 1728-1811. Percy is chiefly known as the compiler of Reliques of English Poetry, in which he has revived many old songs and ballads, and which have had an extensive influence in awakening a love of nature

. kindly, washed his feet, provided supper, and asked ima down; but observing that the old man ate and prayer. 109 begged for a blessing on his meat, asked him why he di worship the God of heaven? The old man told him worshipped the fire only, and acknowledged no other Gore which answer Abraham' grew so zealously angry, that he the old man out of his tent, and exposed him to all the the night and an unguarded condition.

When the old man was gone, God called to Abraham, ita him where the stranger was? He replied, “I thrust his because he did not worship thee.” God answered him, suffered him these hundred years, although he dishono. and couldst thou not endure him one night, when he gave trouble ?" Upon this, saith the story, Abraham fetched h again, and gave him hospitable entertainment and wise tion. Go thou and do likewise, and thy charity will be reby the God of Abraham.

COMFORTING THE AFFLICTED. · CERTAIN it is, that, as nothing can better do it, so there : ing greater, for which God made our tongues, next to r his praises, than to minister comfort to a weary soul. what greater measure can we have, than that we shoul joy to our brother, who, with his dreary eyes, looks to and round about, and cannot find so much rest as to lay } } lids close together, than that thy tongue should be tun. heavenly accents, and make the weary soul to listen fi. and ease; and when he perceives that there is such a thing world, and in the order of things, as comfort and joy, to b, . break out from the prison of his sorrows, at the door of sig. tears, and by little and little melt into showers and refresh: This is glory to thy voice, and employment fit for the brir angel. But so have I seen the sun kiss the frozen earth, 1: was bound up with the images of death, and the colder i of the north ; and then the waters break from their enclo: and melt with joy, and run in useful channels; and the fli rise again from their little graves in walls, and dance a wh'

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