The Sweets of Contentment. No glory I covet, no riches I want, The one thing I beg of kind heaven to grant, With passion unruffled, untainted with pride, By reason my life let me square: The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied; And the rest is but folly and care. The blessings which Providence freely has lent, I'll justly and gratefully prize, While sweet meditation and cheerful content Shall make me both heaithful and wise. In the pleasures the great man's possessions display, Unenvied I'll challenge my part; For ev'ry fair object my eyes can survey, How vainly, through infinite trouble and strife, The many their labours employ! Since all that is truly delightful in life Is what all, if they please, may enjoy! Adversity. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, The proud are taught to taste of pain, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and unknown. When first thy sire to send on earth And bad to form her infant mind, What sorrow was, thou badst her know, And from her own she learn'd to melt at other's woe. Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing folly's idle brood; Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light Light they disperse, and with them go To her they vow their truth, and are again believ❜d. GRAY'S Odes. * Bard. On a rock whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. GRAY'S Odes. Beauty. In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts, Thus, when we view some well-proportion'd The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O No single parts unequally surprise, All comes united to th' admiring eyes; No monstrous height, nor breadth, nor length appear; The whole at once is bold and regular. Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. Belial. -On th' other side up rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane: MILTON'S Paradise Lost. Buckingham. Buckingham. In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung POPE. Belinda. Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain, Fair |