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-Placidiq; ibi demum morte quievit.
Then calm at length he breath'd his soul away.

« On most delightful hour by man.

“ Experienc'd here below; « The hour that terminates his span,

“ His folly and his woe.

« Worlds should not bribe me back to tread

« Again life's dreary waste ; " To see my days again o'erspread

“ With all the gloomy past.

“ My home, henceforth, is in the skies,

“ Earth, seas, and sun adieu; « All heaven unfolded to my eyes,

“. I have no fight for you."

Thus spake Aspatio, firm poffeft

Of faith's supporting rod;
Then breath'd his soul into its reft,,

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 apply'd

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,

But when his heart had ruved.

For he was frail as thou or I,

And evil felt within,
But when he felt it, heav'd a figh,

And loath'd the thought of fin.

Such liv'd Afpatio, and at last,

Call’d up from earth to heav'n,
The gulph of death triumphant pafs’d,

By gales of blessing driven,

His joys be mine, each reader cries,

When my last hour arrives :
They shall be yours, my verse replies,

Such only be your lives.

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PAUSE here, and think; a monitory rhime 'Demands one moment of thy fleeting time.

Consult life's filent clock, thy bounding vein, Seems it to say Health, here, has long to reign? Haft thou the vigour of thy youth ? an eye That beams delight? an heart untaught to figh!Yet fear. Youth, ofttimes, healthful and at ease, Anticipates a day it never sees, And many a tomb, like Hamilton's, aloud Exclaims, “ Prepare thee for an early shroud !"


THE poplars are felled, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade,
The winds play no longer and ling in the leaves,
Nor Oufe on his bosom their image receives.

Twelve years have elaps'd since I last took a view
Of my favourite field and the bank where they grew;
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade.

The blackbird has fled to another retreat,
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat;
And the scene where his melody charm'd me before,
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.

My fugitive years are all hasting away,
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head, -
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.

'Tis a fight to engage me, if any thing can,
To muse on the perithing pleasures of man;
Though his life be a dream, his enjoyments, I see,
Have a being less durable even than he.


POPULEÆ cecidit gratissima copia filvæ,
Conticuêre fufurri, omnisque evanuit umbra,
Nullæ jam levibus se miscent frondibus auræ
Et nulla in fluvio ramorum ludit imago.

Hei mihi ! bis fenos dum luctû torqueor annos
His cogor filvis suetoque carere recelů,
Cum serò rediens stratasque in gramine cernens
Insedi arboribus sub queîs errare folebam.

Ah ubi nunc merulæ cantus ? Felicior illum
Silva tegit, duræ nondum permiffa bipeoni;
Scilicet exustos colles camposque patentes
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus abivit..

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