And thus through life our busy race
Pursues some glitt'ring, gaudy, chase,
In pleasure's empty train:

Caught by the gay and tempting bait,
Suppos'd her ev'ry step t' await,
We follow, but in vain.

Like Tom we try, like Tom we fail;
Like him, renew the painful toil;
Hope still our prospect cheers.
But ah! like him, with heavy sigh,
We see the simple phantom fly,

And leave us to our tears.

Sick with pursuing futile schemes,
Which fly our grasp, like airy dreams,
We turn our thoughts to home:
That home where disappointments cease,
Where labours rest, where joys increase,

Where pain can never come.

THE TASK.

Alone in my warm Chimney-corner I sat,

With a Lamb-skin laid down at my feet for a

mat:

Vex'd to death that I could not attend to my

Church,

Forc'd to leave, on a Sunday, my flock in the

lurch;

I groan'd, and I sigh'd, o'er a fit of the gout, Like a Rattle-snake twisting and writhing about. Inur'd to good health, and but yesterday well, This stroke upon me like a Thunder-bolt fell, "Fetch the doctor," I cried, "if in searching around,

In this world's ample theatre, one can be found, More skill'd in the gout than in probing a wound."

And bring me my Writing-desk; oh! what a job; And tell William to put the old saddle on Cob. The doctor's sour draughts in whole bumpers I'll try;

If as deep as a Draw-well, I'll drink 'em all dry. While thus fretting and fuming, I vented my ire, The daughter call'd in of our Country Squire; With a wreath round her hat form'd of Tulip

and rose,

And lilies, whose tints her complexion compose. While in chat, from her hand she something let fall

On my toe, like the weight of a huge Cannon

ball.

Tho' the pain set me growling and grinding my teeth,

I found it was only a light Scissors-sheath.
I could not be angry; no mischief was meant ;
I bore it with patience, almost with content.
I resolv'd, too, no longer to scold or to flout,
But wrapp'd up in my flannels to sulk the fit

out.

And, good heav'n! what a change in the course of a week!

Once more free from pain, I could move and could speak;

The tardy-pac'd gout had at length left his hold, And my health thus restor'd, I grew sprightly

and bold.

I determin'd again to set sail in the world, With top-gallant and Mainsheet of pleasure unfurl'd;

And, like a brisk bee, sip each full-blooming

flow'r,

In greenhouse, in Flow'r-pot, in garden, or bow'r. No more, like a Numpskull, o'er evils to pore, Which good water-gruel and patience can cure; But from sickness set free, to adopt my old plan, And enjoy ev'ry hour of my life as I can.

ON HEARING A LADY

SING THE BALLAD, “GO, FORGET ME.”

"Go, forget me," didst thou say? Oh! how impossible a thing,

For one, who many' a happy day,

Has seen thee "smile," and heard thee "sing."

In this strange world, where self alone

Prevails almost in ev'ry breast;

Pleasing it is to find that one

Has banish'd this unsocial guest.

"Tis clear that no such feeling lies

In that good-natur'd heart of thine,

That takes such pains, such efforts tries,
To please, to win, and thus to shine.