I ask'd 'twas whisper'd, the device.

To each or all might well belong;

It is the spirit of paradife

That prompts fuch work, a spirit strong,
That gives to all the self-fame bent
Where life is wife and innocent.

THE WATERFALL AND THE EGLANTINE.

"Begone, thou fond prefumptuous elf,"

Exclaimed a thundering voice,
"Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice!"
A falling Water, fwollen with fnows,
Thus fpake to a poor Briar-rose,

That, all befpattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home.

"Doft thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny thing!

I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock

To which thy fibres cling."

The flood was tyrannous and strong;
The patient Briar fuffered long,

Nor did he utter groan or figh,
Hoping the danger would be past :
But, seeing no relief, at last

He ventured to reply.

"Ah!" faid the Briar, "blame me not;

Why should we dwell in strife?

We who in this, our natal spot,

Once lived a happy life!

You stirred me on my rocky bed

What pleasure through my veins you spread!
The Summer long, from day to day,
My leaves you freshened and bedewed;
Nor was it common gratitude

That did your cares repay.

"When Spring came on with bud and bell,

Among these rocks did I

Before you hang my wreaths, to tell

That gentle days were nigh!

And in the fultry Summer hours,

I sheltered you with leaves and flowers;

And in my leaves-now shed and

The linnet lodged, and for us two

Chaunted his pretty fongs, when you

Had little voice, or none.

gone

"But now proud thoughts are in your breastWhat grief is mine you fee.

Ah! would you think, even yet, how blest

Together we might be !

Though of both leaf and flower bereft,

Some ornaments to me are left

Rich ftore of scarlet hips is mine,

With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a Winter's day,
A happy Eglantine ! "

What more he said I cannot tell,

The Torrent thundered down the dell
With unabating hafte;

I listened, nor aught elfe could hear;
The Briar quaked-and much I fear
Thofe accents were his laft.