Ah self-deceiv'd! Could I prophetick say Who next is fated, and who next to fall, The rest might then seem privileg'd to play ; But naming none, the voice now speaks to ALL. Observe the dappled foresters, how light They bound and airy o'er the sunny gladeOne falls the rest, wide scatter'd with affright, Vanish at once into the darkest shade. Had we their wisdom, should we, often warn'd, Die self-accus'd of life run all to waste? Sad waste! for which no after-thrift atones, Learn then ye living! by the mouths be taught And the next op'ning grave may yawn for you. ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, FOR THE YEAR 1789. ....Placidaque ibi demum morte quievit. VIRG. There calm at length he breath'd his soul away. "O MOST delightful hour by man Experienc'd here below, The hour that terminates his span, His folly, and his wo! Worlds should not bribe me back to tread Again life's dreary waste, To see again my day o'erspread With all the gloomy past. My home henceforth is in the skies, So spake Aspasio, firm possess'd Then breath'd his soul into its rest, The bosom of his God. He was a man among the few Sincere on virtue's side; And all his strength from Scripture drew, To hourly use applied. That rule he priz'd, by that he fear'd, He hated, hop'd, and lov'd; Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd For he was frail as thou or I, But when he felt it heav'd a sigh, Such liv'd Aspasio; and at last His joys be mine, each Reader cries, They shall be yours, my verse replies, Where the watchman in his round Wakes the sooner for his cry. So your verseman I and clerk, And the foes unerring aim. Duly at my time I come, Publishing to all aloud— Soon the grave must be your home, But the monitory strain, Oft repeated in your ears, Seems to sound too much in vain, Wins no notice, wakes no fears. Can a truth, by all confess'd Pleasure's call attention wins, Death and Judgment, Heaven and Hell- No more move us than the bell, When some stranger is interr'd. O then, ere the turf or tomb Cover us from every eye, Spirit of instruction come, Make us learn, that we must die. ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, FOR THE YEAR 1792. Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, Happy the mortal, who has trac'd effects Virg. THANKLESS for favours from on high But he, not wise enough to scan To ages, if he might. To ages in a world of pain, To ages, where he goes Gall'd by affliction's heavy chain, And hopeless of repose. Strange fondness of the human heart, Enamour'd of its harm! Strange world, that costs it so much smart, |