Doth vain discourse, or empty mirth,
Well suit the honours of our birth?
Shall we be fond of gay attire,
Which children love, and fools admire ?
What if we wear the richest vest;
Peacocks and flies are better dress'd:
This flesh, with all its gaudy forms,
Must drop to dust, and feed the worms.
Lord, raise our hearts and passions higher;
Touch our vain minds with sacred fire!
Then with an elevated eye,
We'll pass these glitt'ring trifles by:
We'll look on all the toys below,
With such disdain as angels do;
And wait the call that bids us rise
To promis'd mansions in the skies.
On the shortness of life.
LIKE to the damask rose you see;
Or like the blossom on the tree;
Or like the dainty flow'r in May;
Or like the morning of the day;
Or like the sun; or like the shade;
Or like the gourd which Jonas had :
E'en such is man, whose thread is spun,
Drawn out and cut; and so is done.
The rose withers; the blossom blasts ;
The flower fades; the morning hastes;
The sun doth set; the shadow flies;
The gourd consumes and man he dies.
Like to the bubble in the brook; Or in a glass much like a look; Or like the shuttle in the hand; Or like the writing on the sand; Or like a thought, or like a dream; Or like the gliding of the stream: E'en such is man, who lives by breath; Is here, now there, in life and death, The bubble's burst; the look's forgot; The shuttle's flung; the writing's blot; The thought is pass'd; the dream is gone; The water glides: man's life is done.
The fall of the leaf.
We all do fade as a leaf, ISAIAH lxiv. 6,
SEE the leaves around us falling,
Dry and wither'd to the ground;
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
In a sad and solemn sound:
"Sons of Adam! (once in Eden,
When, like us, he blighted fell,)
Hear the lecture we are reading;
'Tis, alas! the truth we tell.
Virgins! much, too much presuming
On your boasted white and red;
View us, late in beauty blooming,
Number'd now among the dead.
Griping misers! nightly waking,
See the end of all your care;
Fled on wings of our own making,
We have left our owners bare,
Sons of honour! fed on praises,
Flutt'ring high in fancied worth ;
Lo! the fickle air that raises,
Brings us down to parent earth.
Youths! though yet no losses grieve you,
Gay in health and manly grace,
Let not cloudless skies deceive you ;
Summer gives to autumn place.
Venerable sires! grown hoary,
Hither turn th' observing eye;
Think, amidst your falling glory,
Autumn tells the winter nigh,
Yearly in our course returning,
Messengers of shortest stay;
Thus we preach, this truth concerning,
'Heav'n and earth shall pass away.'
On the tree of Life Eternal,
Man! let all thy hopes be staid;
Which alone, for ever vernal,
Bears a leaf that shall not fade."
Ere yellow autumn from our plains retir'd,
And gave to wint'ry storms the varied year,
The swallow race, with foresight clear inspir'd,
To southern climes prepar'd their course to steer,
On Damon's roof a large assembly sat;
His roof, a refuge to the feather'd kind!
With serious look, he mark'd the grave debate,
And to his Delia thus address'd his mind:
"Observe yon twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid;
Observe, and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n,
With us, through summer's genial reign they staid,
And food and sunshine to their wants were giv'n.
But now, by secret instinct taught, they know
The near approach of elemental strife,
Of blust'ring tempest, and of chilling snow,
With ev'ry pang and scourge of tender life.
Thus warn'd, they meditate a speedy flight;
For this, e'en now, they prune their vig'rous wing ;
For this, each other to the toil excite;
And prove their strength in many a sportive ring,
No sorrow loads their breast, or dims their eye,
To quit their wonted haunts, or native home;
Nor fear they launching on the boundless sky,
In search of future settlements to roam.
They feel a pow'r, an impulse all divine!
That warns them hence; they feel it and obey:
To this direction all their cares resign,
Unknown their destin'd stage, unmark'd their way,
And does no friendly pow'r to MAN dispense
The joyful tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence,
Beyond the gloomy grave, and fleeting time?
Yes, yes, the Sacred Oracles we hear,
That point the path to realms of endless joy;
That bid our trembling hearts no danger fear,
Though clouds surround, and angry skies annoy.
Then let us wisely for our flight prepare,
Nor count this stormy world our fix'd abode;
Obey the call, and trust our Leader's care,
To smooth the rough, and light the darksome road,
Let no fond love for earth exact a sigh;
No doubts divert our steady steps aside;
Nor let us long to live, nor dread to die :
HEAV'N is our HOPE, and PROVIDENCE our GUIDE,”
SECTION 20,
Epitaphs.
1. On an infant.
LIV'D to wake each tender passion,
And delightful hopes inspire;
Died, to try our resignation,
And direct our wishes higher.
Rest, sweet babe! in gentle slumbers,
Till the Resurrection morn ;
Then arise, to join the numbers
That its triumphs shall adorn.
Though (thy presence so endearing!)
We thy absence now deplore;
At the Saviour's bright appearing,
We shall meet to part no more,
Thus, to thee, O Lord! submitting,
We the tender pledge resign;
And, our mercies ne'er forgetting,
Own that all we have is thine,
2. On a young man.
Underneath this stone, lies a youth,
Renown'd for probity and truth.
Sober he was, wise, temperate ;
Contented with a small estate,
Which no foul av'rice did increase,
Nor wanton luxury make less,
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