The unadjusted diff'rence banish far,
And from its pillow bid suspicion fly!

Give me all pangs, and in the first degree,
But that unsparing misery eterne.

Let not that couch, where every jar's compos'd,
Or shou'd be settled, lose its magic charm,
Its huddling joy, or reconciling spell!
Let not the fruitful nursery of love
Into the dwelling of dislike be turn'd;
Nor suffer sleep the grosser sense to bind,
Yet give the mind to torture in the dream.-

In bliss, attack'd with such o'erwhelming ills,
New to the soul and farthest from the thought,
Almost o'ermatching by its stolen march,
The wholly unprepar'd resistive powers,
Why shou'd we wonder if affrighted man,
Ta'en by surprize and fearful of his strength,
Shamefully yield to any terms propos'd,
Or scorning all-to desperation fly.

Scarce can we blame him for the coward act,
Scarce can we execrate the deed accurs'd;
Tho' tame submission and the mad resolve
Alike are dastardly and vilely base.
Oh! more to his immortal honor far,
More to the glory of his deathless soul,
If forc'd at length into his last retreat,
Batter'd, hemm'd in, and tempted by despair,
The gloomy hour conspiring with the thought

He start at poison, pointed steel, or cord-
Endure with dauntless breast the rude assault,
And cloth'd in hope's scarce penetrable mail,
Continue to defend, annoy, repel,

Till wearied Misery, raise her fruitless siege.

Oh NIGHT! how much thy sober reign's abus'd! How many use thy count'nance for a cloak, To perpetrate on man some outrage foul, To give a loose to some abandon'd bent, And on themselves, their wives and children dear, Eternal beggary and disgrace entail;

The life despised and the death abhorr'd.
Search out such men my proud indignant Muse,
Drag them to public view, and spare them not.-
No! tho' soft pity's tears in torrents fall,
And mark with deep regret their thoughtless course,
Their unreformed errors and their crimes.

How many waste the precious hours of time

In anxious watching of the doubtful DIE,

And mad'ning with their fate, or good or bad,
By the pale lamp eternal vigils keep:

CARDS and its VOTARIES keep their constant court;
Destructive, damnable, deluding cards;

For recreation, as I trust, design'd,
To lighten burdens of oppressive care,
To lift the gloomy veil on misery's brow,
To set in motion rooted Sorrow's soul,

And coax one side-glance from her thankless gaze, Her selfish, solitary, earth-bent eye,—

By playful tricks to cheat dejected man,

Into a sprightlier mood; and by these means,
To strain more close the loosen'd social tie:
To fill a gap, which cannot chuse but chance,
In every casual intercourse of thought;
And often too, where wond'rous talents meet,
And friendship lends her ever-burning light,
(So much confin'd and weak our brightest pow'rs,
Withal so uncomplying with our will,)

Genius shall tire, and conversation pall.-
These to remove, and turn to pleasant use,
Those listless hours which else wou'd heavy hang,
The skillful Artist first invented CARDS:

By prejudice yclep'd the books of hell;
And much I fear, so easy 'tis to turn
The freshest fountain to a noxious stream,
This little volume's entertaining page,
Its harmless text and variegated leaves,
Are often studied with no good intent;
For good it is not, when its votaries keep
The eye unclos'd, till NIGHT, thy latest hour,
Loses its darkness, fading into day :
Nay sometimes too, when Sol, his ray intense
Hath thro' the eastern window shot its light,
Their taper has been burning-By and by,
What time the sleepy sluggard tries to stir;
The yawning shop-boy takes his shutters down,
F

And dirty pavement sweeps,-the GAMESTER he,
However good his luck, pallid retires,-
And if the smallest sense of shame remain,
How like a culprit will he hurry home;
How slink thro' lane or alley's winding path,
Shunning the gaze of man, the glare of day;
His sunken eyes speak many an anxious hour,
And his dishevell'd hair unsought repose;
Most wretched state! tho' ev'ry pocket strain,
With weight of gold at rash adventure won:
Treach'rous success! with certain ruin fraught;
For the return tenfold, temptation sure;
Sure the temptation, and as sure the loss.-
But shou'd his purse lie chinkless in his poke,
In fortune ruin'd as in mind perturb'd;
How shall reflection reconcile the acti
Or how sincere reform, the loss retrieve?
Long years of industry and prudent life,
Will often fail to make the wish'd amends;
And character defam'd, is seldom found
In all its wonted loveliness restor❜d-
And well we know, to one imprudent act,
The error of an hour,--eternal shame,
And never-ending mis'ry may attach !-
Disgrace is purchas'd at an easy price;
Possess'd, scarce parted with at any rate;-
And all mankind have character to lose,
(So every man with conscious pride conceives,)
But the poor wretch grown desperate in ill:

It is the current coin of this same world;
Its impress is, bright Truth's ingenuous head,
And the reverse," Return me this in kind;”–
And he that hath it fresh from honor's mint,
Shall weigh a load of knavery's counters down :-
Then let no man the world's opinion scorn,
Lest in its turn the world think light of him,
Who, tho' in wealth and power sublimely plac'd,
Is more or less dependant on its smile :—
Nor is't enough for our unbroken peace,

That guilt we know not-since our pleasures spring,
Not more from conscious purity of act,

Than that the inspecting public eye approves :---
But when the luckless GAMESTER hurries home,
At some late moments of reproaching morn,
That consolation where can he embrace?
Or in what corner clasp the banish'd peace?
His injur'd wife, unmindful of her cares,
And only true to love, may run to meet
Her drooping lord, and bare her snowy breast,-
That softest sopha for a head perturb'd;
Whose touch yields balm and ev'ry motion lulls;
And in the action print a kiss so kind,
Beneath a look so eloquently full,

Where sense of wrong not wholly is supprest,
Tho' sweet absolvement glisten in the tear;
Such as might rob compunction of its pang,
And bid despair itself look up and smile :-