EAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In Folly's maze advance;

Tho'

Tho' fingularity and pride

Be call'd our choice, we'll ftep afide,
Nor join the giddy dance.

From the gay world we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,

Where love our hours employs;
No noify neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling ftranger near,
To fpoil our heart-felt joys.

If folid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies;

And they are fools who roam :

The world has nothing to bestow,
From our ownselves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.

Of reft was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing the left
That fafe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excurfion o'er,
The disappointed bird once more
Explor'd the facred bark.

Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs,

We, who improve his golden hours,

By sweet experience know,

We'll form their minds with ftudious care,
To all that's manly, good, and fair,
And train them for the fkies.

While they our wifeft hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, fupport our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondeft loves repay,
And recompenfe our cares.

No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot:

Monarchs! we envy not your state;
We look with pity on the great,
And blefs our humbler lot.

Our portion is not large, indeed;
But then how little do we need!
For Nature's calls are few ;

In this the art of living lies,

To want no more than may fuffice,
And make that little do.

We'll therefore relish, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has fent,'
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;

For if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lofe the present hour.

To be refign'd, when ills betide,
Patient when favours are deny'd,

And pleas'd with favours giv'n;

Dear

Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part,
This is that incense of the heart

Whofe fragrance fmells to heav'n.

We'll ask no long protracted treat,
(Since winter life is feldom fweet;)
But when our feaft is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arife,

Nor grudge our fons, with envious eyes,
The relicks of our store.

Thus, hand in hand, thro' life we'll go :
It's chequer'd paths of joy and woe

While Confcience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And chear our dying breath;

Shall, when all other comforts ceafe,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And smooth the bed of death.

THE TRIALS OF VIRTUE.

BY THE REV. MR. MERRICK.

PLAC

LAC'D on the verge of youth, my mind
Life's op'ning fcene furvey'd :

I view'd it's hills of various kind,

Afflicted and afraid.

But

But chief my fear the dangers mov'd,
That Virtue's path inclose :
My heart the wife pursuit approv'd;
But O, what toils oppose!

For fee, ah! fee, while yet her ways
With doubtful step I tread,

A hostile world it's terrors raise,
It's fnares delufive spread.

O! how shall I, with heart prepar'd,
Thofe terrors learn to meet ?

1

How, from the thoufand fnares, to guard My unexperienc'd feet?

As thus I mus'd, oppreffive Sleep
Soft o'er my temples drew
Oblivion's veil. The wat'ry deep,

An object ftrange and new,

Before me rofe: on the wide fhore

Obfervant as I ftood,

The gathering ftorms around me roar, And heave the boiling flood.

Near and more near the billows rife;

E'en now my steps they lave; And Death to my affrighted eyes Approach'd in ev'ry wave.

What hope, or whither to retreat!
Each nerve at once unftrung,
Chill Fear had fetter'd fast my feet,
And chain'd my speechlefs tongue.