"T

I. The SLUGGAR D.

IS the voice of the fluggard; I heard him complain,

"You have wak'd me too foon, I must flumber again."

As the door on its hinges, fo he on his bed,

Turns his fides and his shoulders and his heavy head.

"A little more fleep, and a little more flumber;" Thus he waftes half his days, and his hours without number;

And when he gets up, he fits folding his hands,
Or walks about fauntering, or trifling he stands.

I pafs'd by his garden, and faw the wild brier,
The thorn and the thiftle grow broader and higher;
The cloaths that hang on him are turning to rags:
And his money still wastes till he starves or he begs.

I made him a vifit, ftill hoping to find

He had took better care for improving his mind :
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking;
But he scarce reads his bible and never loves thinking.

Said I then to my heart, "Here's a leffon for me:"
That man's but a picture of what I might be :
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.

II. IN NO

II. INNOCENT PLAY.

ABROAD in the meadows to fee the young lambs

Run fporting about by the side of their dams, With fleeces fo clean and fo white;

Or a neft of young doves in a large open cage,
When they play all in love, without anger or rage,
How much may we learn from the fight!

If we had been ducks, we might dabble in mud;
Or dogs, we might play till it ended in blood;
So foul and fo fierce are their natures :

But Thomas and William, and fuch pretty names,
Should be cleanly and harmlefs as doves, or as lambs,
Thofe lovely sweet innocent creatures.

Not a thing that we do, nor a word that we say,
Should hinder another in jefting or play;

For he's ftill in earnest that's hurt:

How rude are the boys that throw pebbles and mire! There's none but a madman will fling about fire, And tell you, « 'Tis all but in spoft.”

III. The ROSE.

HOW fair is the rofe! what a beautiful flower!

The glory of April and May !

But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour,
And they wither and die in a day.

Yet

Yet the Rofe has one powerful virtue to boast,

Above all the flowers of the field:

When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are loft, Still how sweet a perfume it will yield!

So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, Though they bloom and look gay like the Rofe : But all our fond care to preserve them is vain; Time kills them as fast as he goes.

Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty,
Since both of them wither and fade:

But gain a good name by well-doing my duty;
This will fcent, like a Rofe, when I'm dead.

WE

IV. The THIEF.

HY fhould I deprive my neighbour
Of his goods against his will ?

Hands were made for honeft labour,

Not to plunder or to steal,

'Tis a foolish felf-deceiving

By fuch tricks to hope for gain : All that's ever got by thieving Turns to forrow, shame, and pain

Have not Eve and Adam taught us

Their fad profit to compute?
To what difmal state they brought us
When they stole forbidden fruit?

Oft we fee a young beginner
Practife little pilfering ways.
Till grown up a harden'd finner;
Then the gallows ends his days.

Theft will not be always hidden,
Though we fancy none can spy:
When we take a thing forbidden,
God beholds it with his eye.

Guard my heart, O God of heaven,
Left I covet what's not mine:

Left I steal what is not given,

Guard my heart and hands from fin.

V. The ANT or EM MET.

HESE Emmets how little they are in our eyes!

ΤΗ

We tread them to duft, and a troop of them dies
Without our regard or concern:

Yet, as wife as we are, if we went to their school,
There's many a fluggard, and many a fool,
Some leffons of wisdom might learn.

They don't wear their time out in fleeping or play,
But gather up corn in a fun-shiny day,

And for winter they lay up their stores :

They manage their work in fuch regular forms,

One would think they forefaw all the frofts and the

ftorms,

And so brought their food within doors.

But

But I have lefs fenfe than a poor creeping Ant,
If I take not due care for the things I shall want,
Nor provide againft dangers in time.

When death or old age shall stare in my face,
What a wretch fhall I be in the end of my days,
If I trifle away all their prime!

Now, now, while my ftrength and my youth are in bloom,

Let me think what will ferve me when fickness shall come, And pray that my fins be forgiven:

Let me read in good books, and believe, and obey, That when death turns me out of this cottage of clay, I may dwell in a palace in heaven.

VI. Good Refolutions.

THOUGH I am now in younger days,

Nor can I tell what shall befal me,

I'll prepare for every place

Where my growing age fhall call me.

Should I be rich or great,

Others fhall partake my goodness;

I'll fupply the poor with meat,

Never fhewing fcorn or rudeness.

Where I fee the blind or lame,

Deaf or dumb, I'll kindly treat them; I deferve to feel the fame

If I mock, or hurt, or cheat them.