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Lady! when, with glad surprise,
But when the hour of transport o'er)
ON A PURSE,
PRESENTED BY A YOUNG LADY.
O tell me how, and where, and when
Can I return the obligation ; Alas! will my poetic pen
Do justice to my inclination ?
'Tis surely much the shortest way,
And to the car, I think, as pleasant, In simple prose at once to say,
“Dear girl, I thank you for your présent."
But as the ladies now-a-days,
Expect poetical addresses ; Without more trifling or delays,
My pen with pleasure acquiesces.
O condescend, ye muses ! pray,
( First you must know my theine a purse is ) Q kindly teacli me what to say,
To make acceptable my verses.
Delightful theme! O beauteous purse!
To give the praises you require, Exceeds
weak unskilful verse, Exceeds my faint poctic fire.
Shall my untutor'd pen profane
The many virtues you inherit ?
Or give you half the praise you merit?
Ah no! I yield the task of praise
To those who better can explain it;
A single stanza shall contain it.
So neat, so charming a design,
Was ne'er with such success attempted';
HYMN FOR THE SONS OF THE CLERGY.
How blest those olive plants that grow
Beneath the altar's sacred shade,
And comfort's humble board is spread.
'Twas thus the swallow rear'd her young,
Secure within the house of God,
When banish'd from the blest abode.
When, like the swallow's tender brood,
They leave the kind paternal dome, On weary wing to seek their food,
Or find in other climes a home;
Where'er they roam, where'er they rest,
Thro' all the varied scenes of life, Whether with tranquil plenty blest,
Or doom'd to share the deadly strife:
Still may the streams of grace divine
Glide softly near their devious way; And faith's fair light serenely shine,
To change their darkness into day.
Still may they, with paternal love,
Each other's shield and aid become; And wbile thro' distant realms they rove,
Remember still their childhood's home;
The simple life, the frugal fare,
The kind paternal counsels giv'n, The tender love, the pious care,
That early wing’d their hopes to heav'n.
And when the ev’ning shades decline,
And when life's toilsome task is o'er, May they each earthly wish resign,
And holier, happier climes explore.
And when the faithful shepherds view
Each ransom'd flock around them spread, How will they bless the plants that grew Beneath the altar's sacred shade!
Since in this dreary vale of tears
In hoarding useless treasure?
A source of purer pleasure.
Better to live despis’d and poor,
The wound of earthly woes.