ON A SIMILAR OCCASION. FOR THE YEAR 1790. Ne commonentem recta sperne.-BUCHANAN. He who sits from day to day Where the prison'd lark is hung, Heedless of his loudest lay, Hardly knows that he has sung. Where the watchman in his round So your verse-man I, and clerk, And the foe's unerring aim. Duly at my time I come, Soon the grave must be your home, And your only suit, a shroud. But the monitory strain, Oft repeated in your ears, Can a truth, by all confess'd Of such magnitude and weight, Grow, by being oft impress'd, Trivial as a parrot's prate. Pleasure's call attention wins, Hear it often as we may; New as ever seem our sins, Though committed every day. Death and judgment, heaven and hell— No more move us than the bell When some stranger is interr'd. O then, ere the turf or tomb Spirit of instruction, come, Make us learn that we must die. ON A SIMILAR OCCASION. FOR THE YEAR 1792. Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, Happy the mortal who has traced effects To their first cause, cast fear beneath his feet, THANKLESS for favors from on high, Man thinks he fades too soon: But he, not wise enough to scan To ages, if he might. To ages in a world of pain, To ages where he goes Gall'd by affliction's heavy chain, And hopeless of repose. VIRG. Strange fondness of the human heart, Strange world, that costs it so much smart, Whence has the world her magic power? Why deem we death a foe? Recoil from weary life's best hour, The cause is Conscience-Conscience oft Her tale of guilt renews: Then anxious to be longer spared 'Tis judgment shakes him: there's the fear That promps the wish to stay: He has incurr'd a long arrear, Pay! follow Christ, and all is paid; ON A SIMILAR OCCASION. FOR THE YEAR 1793. De sacris autem hæc sit una sententia, ut conserventur, CIC. DE LEG. But let us all concur in this one sentiment, that things sacred be inviolate. He lives who lives to God alone, And all are dead beside; For other source than God is none To live to God is to requite His love as best we may : But life, within a narrow ring Is falsely named, and no such thing, Can life in them deserve the name, Who only live to prove For what poor toys they can disclaim Who, much diseased, yet nothing feel; Who deem his house a useless place, Faith, want of common sense; And ardor in the Christian race, Who trample order; and the day If scorn of God's commands, impress'd Such want it, and that want uncured Till man resigns his breath, Speaks him a criminal, assured Sad period to a pleasant course! And mercy cast away. ON A GOLDFINCH, STARVED TO DEATH IN HIS CAGE. TIME was when I was free as air, But gaudy plumage, sprightly strain, And of a transient date; For, caught and caged, and starved to death, In dying sighs my little breath Soon pass'd the wiry grate. Thanks, gentle swain, for all my woes, And thanks for this effectual close And cure of every ill! More cruelty could none express; Had been your prisoner still. THE PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE. THE pine-apples, in triple row, Were basking hot, and all in blow; |