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Some wanderer, whom I would not meet,
Should stumble on my loved retreat.
Enameld Meads, and Hillocks green,
And Streams that water all the scene!
Ye Torrents, loud in distant ears !
Ye Fountains, that receive my tears !
Ah! still conceal, with caution due,
A charge I trust with none but you.
If, when my pain and grief increase,
I seem to enjoy the sweetest peace,
It is because I find so fair
The charming object of my care,
That I can sport and pleasure make
Of torment suffer'd for his sake.
Ye Meads and Groves, unconscious things!
Ye know not whence my pleasure springs ;
Ye know not, and ye cannot know,
The source from which my sorrows flow:
The dear sole Cause of all I feel,-
He knows, and understands them well.
Ye Deserts ! where the wild beasts rove,
Scenes sacred to my hours of love;
Ye Forests ! in whose shades I stray,
Benighted under burning day;
Ahl whisper not how blest am I,
Nor while I live, nor when I die.
Ye Lambs! who sport beneath these shades,
And bound along the mossy glades,
Be taught a salutary fear,
And cease to bleat when I am near :

hear your

harmless cry,

The wolf

may Whom ye should dread as much as I. How calm, amid these scenes, my

mind! How perfect is the peace I find ! Oh hush, be still, my every part, My tongue, my pulse, my beating heart ! That Love, aspiring to its cause, May suffer not a moment's pause. Ye swift-finn'd nations, that abide In seas as fathomless as wide ; And unsuspicious of a snare, Pursue at large your pleasures there: Poor sportive fools ! how soon does man Your heedless ignorance trepan! Away! dive deep into the brine, Where never yet sunk plummet-line; Trust me, the vast leviathan Is merciful, compared with man; Avoid his arts, forsake the beach, And never play within his reach! My soul her bondage ill endures ; I pant for liberty like yours; I long for that immense profound, That knows no bottom, and no bound; Lost in infinity, to prove The incomprehensible of Love. Ye Birds ! that lessen as ye fly, And vanish in the distant sky; To whom yon airy waste belongs, Resounding with your cheerful songs ;

Haste to escape from human sight!
Fear less the vulture and the kite.
How blest, and how secure am I,
When quitting earth, I soar on high ;
When lost, like you I disappear,
And float in a sublimer sphere !
Whence, falling within human view,
I am ensnared, and caught like you.
Omniscient God, whose notice deigns
To try the heart and search the reins,
Compassionate the numerous woes,
I dare not, even to thee, disclose;
Oh save me from the cruel hands
Of men, who fear not thy commands !
Love, all-subduing and divine,
Care for a creature truly thine;
Reign in a heart, disposed to own
No sovereign but thyself alone;
Cherish a bride who cannot rove,
Nor quit Thee for a meaner love !

THE VICISSITUDES EXPERIENCED

IN THE

CHRISTIAN LIFE.

I suffer fruitless anguish day by day,
Each moment, as it

my pain; Scarce knowing whither, doubtfully I stray,

And see no end of all that I sustain.

passes, marks

The more I strive the more I am withstood;

Anxiety increasing every hour,
My spirit finds no rest, performs no good,
And nought remains of all my former

power. My peace of heart is fled, I know not where;

My happy hours, like shadows, pass'd away; Their sweet remembrance doubles all my care,

Night darker seems, succeeding such a day.

Dear faded joys, and impotent regret,

What profit is there in incessant tears ?
Oh Thou, whom once beheld, we ne'er forget,

Reveal thy Love, and banish all my fears !

Alas! He flies me-treats me as his foe,

Views not my sorrows, hears not when I plead; Woe such as mine, despised, neglected woe,

Unless it shortens life, is vain indeed.

Pierced with a thousand wounds, I yet survive;

My pangs are keen, but no complaint transpires ; And while in terrors of thy wrath I live,

Hell seems to lose its less tremendous fires.

Has Hell a pain I would not gladly bear,

So thy severe displeasure might subside ? Hopeless of ease, I seem already there,

My life extinguish'd, and yet death denied. Is this the joy so promised ?—this the love,

The unchanging love, so sworn in better days ? Ah! dangerous glories ! shown me, but to prove

How lovely Thou, and I how rash to gaze.

Why did I see them ? had I still remain'd

Untaught, still ignorant how fair thou art, My humbler wishes I had soon obtain’d,

Nor known the torments of a doubting heart. Deprived of all, yet feeling no desires,

Whence then, I cry, the pangs that I sustain ? Dubious and uninform’d, my soul inquires,

Ought she to cherish, or shake off her pain ? Suffering, I suffer not; sincerely love,

Yet feel no touch of that enlivening flame; As chance inclines me, unconcern'd I move,

All times, and all events, to me the same.

fall;

I search my heart, and not a wish is there,
But burns with zeal that hated self

may Such is the sad disquietude I share,

A sea of doubts, and self the source of all.

I ask not life, nor do I wish to die;

And if thine hand accomplish not my cure, I would not purchase with a single sigh,

A free discharge from all that I endure. I groan in chains, yet want not a release ;

Am sick, and know not the distemper'd part; Am just as void of

purpose as of

peace ; Have neither plan, nor fear, nor hope, nor heart. My claim to life, though sought with earnest care,

No light within me or without me shows;
Once I had faith, but now in self-despair
Find
my

chief cordial and my best repose.

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