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Стр. 36 - Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, From every low pursuit; and feed my soul With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss...
Стр. 40 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Стр. 66 - She smil'd — and I could not but love ; She is faithless — and I am undone. Perhaps I was void of all thought : Perhaps it was plain to foresee, That a nymph so complete would be sought, By a swain more engaging than me.
Стр. 3 - On the laughing hedgerow's side She hath spread her treasures wide ; She is in the greenwood shade, Where the nightingale hath made Every branch and every tree Ring with her sweet melody; Hill and dale are May's own treasures.
Стр. 66 - Paridel's tongue, — Yet may she beware of his art, Or fure I muft envy the fong. IV. DISAPPOINTMENT. YE shepherds give ear to my lay , And take no more heed of my sheep: They have nothing to do but to ftray ; I have nothing to do but to weep.
Стр. 51 - FATAL effects of luxury and ease ! We drink our poison, and we eat disease, Indulge our senses at our reason's cost, Till sense is pain, and reason hurt, or lost. Not so, O Temperance bland ! when rul'd by thee, The brute's obedient, and the man is free.
Стр. 59 - Not to give to the poor, is to take from him. Not to feed the hungry, if thou hast it, is to the utmost of thy power to kill him. That, therefore, thou mayst avoid both sacrilege and murder, be charitable. Hath any wronged thee ? Be bravely revenged : slight it, and the work's begun ; forgive it, and 'tis finished : he is below himself that is not above an injury.
Стр. 57 - To name thee thus had been to speak thy name, And waken, o'er thy cheek, the blush of modest shame.
Стр. 64 - 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.
Стр. 56 - It is the mind, that maketh good or ill, That maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor : For some, that hath abundance at his will, Hath not enough, but wants in greatest store ; And other, that hath little, asks no more...

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