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The scatter'd gleanings of a feast
My frugal meals supply: But if thine unrelenting heart
That flender boon deny,
The chearful light, the vital air,
Are blessings widely given ; Let nature's commoners enjoy
The common gifts of Heaven.
The well-taught philosophick mind
To all compassion gives;
And feels for all that lives.
If mind, as ancient sages taught,
A never-dying flame,
In every form the fame:
Beware, left, in the worm you crush,
A brother's soul you find;
Dislodge a kindred mind.
Or, if this transient gleam of day
Be all of life we share ;
That little all to spare.
So may thy hospitable board
With health and peace be crown'd; And every charm of heart-felt ease,
Beneath thy roof be found.
So, when destruction lurks unseen,
fhare ; May some kind angel clear thy path,
And break the hidden fñare.
THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER.
BY DR. WATTS.
'W"Why gentle Hymen's filken chain
HY should our joys transform to pain?
i A plague of iron prove?: • Good Gods! 'tis frange, the chain that binds • Millions of hands, fhoald leave their minds
; At such a loose from love !'
Hard by, a venerable priest,
Began his morning song:
Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring stream;
And half divine his tongue.
He lang th'eternal rolling flame;
Does all our minds compose:
And different passions rose.
? The mighty Pow'r that form'd the mind,
• Then bless'd the new-born pair :
To seek them bodies here.
• But parting from their warm abodes,
. And never join'd their hands:
• On Europe's barbarous lands!'
Thus fang the wondrous Indian bard;
Whilft Ganges ceas'd to flow:
I might be happy-too!'
ROM lofty themes, from thoughts that foar'd on high,
And open'd wond'rous scenes above the fky,
Hear, ye fair daughters of this happy land!
3 H 2
When now Maria's pow'rfal arms prevail'd,
But how will Guilford, her far dearer part,
At length, with troubled thought, but look serene,
tongue ; Gentle and sweet as vernal Zephyr blows, Fanning the lily or the blooming rofe.
• Grieve not, my Lord; a crown indeed is loft! • What far outshines a crown we still may boast; • A mind compos'd, a mind that can disdain " A fruitless forrow for a lofs so vain. • Nothing is loss, that virtue can improve • To wealth eternal, and return above ; • Above, where no distinction shall be known « 'Twixt him whom storms have shaken from a throne, • And him who, balking in the smiles of Fate, • Shone forth in all the splendour of the great: • Nor can I find the diff'rence here below • I lately was a queen-I ftill am fo,