Untainted goodness in the lonely hour :
No rest knows he, however rich the couch,
Where guilt essays to slumber-tho' the head,
Perturb'd and heavy, sink in softest down,
And stateliest canopies around him rise,
Loaded with floating silk and wavy gold-
Conscience thro' ev'ry barrier shall advance,
And search the shrinking heart :-his pillow too,
Whose softness led him to attempt repose,
Shall turn a traitor to his eager hopes,

And rise against him in a hill of thorns ;

This know the ROBBER, and the MAN of BLOOD,
And knowing, seldom woo thee, gentle NIGHT!
To lend thy smile to solitary sleep;

Harrass'd by Hell, by taking bailiffs dogg'd;
The mind by constant apprehension torn,
His soul in bay, by ceaseless terror kept;
Fearful!-lest baffled justice shou'd o'ertake
Their stealthy steps, in corners where they steal,
There to elude suspicion's fast'ning eye;

Or in a crowd, once ferreted from thence,
Double and dodge-discovery's full-mouth'd chase;
Which fairly foil'd-how useless the escape,
While its strong bent the abandon'd mind retains—
Expos'd, unsham'd--tho' punish'd, unreform'd!
Of Man or God's commands regardless they-
Or what all laws insulted may inflict-
Loos'd-they re-act those desp'rate courses o'er,
Which e'en in durance they adroitly plan :--

Yes! bent on "deeds the day wou'd quake to see,"
Soon as the shadows of night's dusky veil,
Sketch their first faint lines in the changing scene-
Commence they still-shou'd nothing counteract—
The secret plunder, and the murder foul;
Yea, often too, to blacken deadliest crimes,
As it shou'd seem in wantonness of guilt,
Their ruthless power on poverty enforce,
Where neither vengeance prompts, nor wealth allures.
Nor vainly think, ye Men who never yet

In silence plunder'd, or in secret stabb'd,
That ye shou'd therefore taste prolong'd repose,
Sound when it comes, and sweeter than 'tis sound:
Oppression of thy brethren of the world,

The doing any man one littie wrong,

Or suff'ring, if in thy pow'r to prevent,
Another cruel monster so to do,

Is of one nature with the wretch who kills;
And like black satin, held to public view-
Then thrown by art into ten thousand folds,
Gives but at best—variety of SHADE!

Ye sordid souls! if ever ye have drain'd
One drop of comfort from the orphan's cup,
And few the comforts his small cup contains,
And oh! most small the value of the few;
Or when the widow mourn'd her helpmate lost,
Ye have withholden from her scanty store
One single penny which she cou'd not claim ;

If ye have purchas'd pleasure at a price,

Which none I trust wou'd give-the wretches tears;

Or ever in your commerce with mankind,
Ye have not well observ'd the golden rule,
"To others do, as thou wouldst be done by,"
Or not observing, fail'd to make amends,—
Think not to find the rest which virtue finds;
Nor think that wealth and pow'rs ill-gotten stores,
Can in the longest life. repay thy loss.

And now, oh NIGHT! from out thy wond'rous maze,
With twice ten thousand windings unexplor'd,
Well worth the search, and fit indeed to know,
The wearied MUSE reluctantly retires;

And cou'd she hope, if with her first intent,
The tedious round has not been idly ta'en;
But fraught with some eventual good to Man,
Some little present pleasure for his toil,
The modest Maid wou'd happily withdraw :-
Doubtful of that, she lifts her ardent eyes,
Up to the viewless rulers of the scene,

And prostrate, pours from forth her ardent soul,
Her pray'rs sincere-her adjurations strong!-

O'er Guilt unchasten'd-Goodness undiscern'd,-
Ye GENII and ye DEMONS of the shades;
Ye PLEASURES and ye TERRORS of the dark!
Play diff'rent pranks as ye enclose them in :-
And whether rous'd to strike audacious sin,

Detect or awe the ruffian in his course,
Or purify a pestilential air,

Ye wage, envelopp'd in nocturnal gloom,
The soul-alarming elemental war,—

Terrific THUNDER! roll thy lengthen'd roar,
In aggravated swell, and quicker clash;
Fantastic LIGHTNING! shoot thy forked fires,
Cleave the thick veil and give to dunnest NIGHT,
New sounds of horror, and a deeper shade !-
Reveal the Villain, shudd'ring at thy glare;
Whether on bed of down, or pallet hard,
He seek in vain the banish'd charmer, rest:
Or in commission of some heinous act,
Bare his arrested arm, ye searching pow'rs
Fix it uprais'd, and blast the callous nerves
New strung to rob, to torture, and despoil,
The hoarded peace and property of man :-
But o'er the breast of unsuspecting Worth,
Play harmless, and expend thy liquid light,
'WAKE OR ASLEEP, TO COMFORT, NOT DESTROY;
And let the deep-mouth'd THUNDER's clam'rous throat,
AROUSE THE SOUL TO REV'RENCE, NOT ALARM.

YOUNG ANNA.

A PASTORAL.

In a clean little Cot, at the foot of a hill,

With sweet-briars encompass'd around— Where small birds wou'd sing, and a murm'ring rill, Thro' the vale ran meand'ring down,

The lovely young ANNA was known to reside,
In careless contentment and ease;

No wish of her heart ever strove she to hide,-
And she pleas'd without striving to please.

Her anxious fond parents in transports of joy,
Oft wept o'er their innocent care;

And to warn her full oft they whole days wou'd employ,
Of man, faithless man to beware:

In her bosom as yet no strange restlessness grew,
No unsatisfied wish found its way;

Thro' the night's sweet repose, playful visions still flew;
Spent in innocent pastimes the day.