ELIZA, AN AMIABLE PORTRAIT, TAKEN

FROM LIFE.

I.

BEHOLD! Eliza, peerless maid,

In virtuous acts refin'd;
Here bright benev'lence is difplay'd,
To teach all human kind.

II.

See, humble modefty and youth,
Canfpire to blefs the Fair;

Here goodness, innocence, and truth,
A fpotlefs mind declare.

III.

Her charity the wide extends,
On wings of fwift relief;

The wrinkled brow of care unbends,
And frees the mind from grief.

V.

When wretched Poverty complains,
By pinching tortures preft;
Hers is the talk to eafe their pains,
And lull the foul to rest *.

VI.

If Sorrow hears her chearful voice,

Extatic joys return;

She makes the orphan's heart rejoice,

The widow's ceafe to mourn.

Reader, go and do thou likerife, and the bleffing of him

that is ready to perifh, come upon thee,

VII. Thus

VII.

Thus lives Eliza, truly bleft,.
The wretched to relieve;
Her looks, a tender wish exprefs,
When she has nought to give.

AN INFALLIBLE RECEIPT TO OBTAIN TRUB HAPPINESS.

TRAVERSE the globe, go fly from pole to

pole,

Go far as winds can blow, or waters roll;
All, all is vanity beneath the fun;

To certain death thro' different paths we run..
See the pale mifer poring o'er his gold;
See there a galley-flave, to mifery fold,
Ambition groans beneath her fplendid weight,
The haughty victim of the toils of state.
Lo! in the mantling bowl, fweet poifon flows,
Love's deareft joys oft terminate in woes.
E'en learning ends her vaft career in doubt,
And puzzling ftill, makes nothing clearly out.

Where then is fovereign blifs? Where doth it grow?

Know, mortal, happiness ne'er dwelt below;
Look at yon heav'n-go feek the bleffing there
Be heav'n thy aim, thy foul's eternal care;
Nothing but GoD, and GoD alone you'll find,
Can fill a boundless and immortal mind.

MORAL

IN

MORAL

REFLECTION.

WRITTEN IN THE AUTUMN.

N fading grandeur, lo! the trees
Their tarnish'd honours fhed,
While every leaf-compelling breeze,
Lays their pale verdure dead.

Ere long the genial breath of Spring
Shall all their charms renew;
And flow'r and fruit, and foliage bring,
All pleafing to the view.

Thus round and round the feafons roll,
In one harmonious courfe;
And pour conviction on the foul
With unremitting force.

Not fuch is man's appointed fate,
One fpring alone he knows;
One fummer, one autumnal ftate,
One winter's dead repofe.

Yet not the icy hand of death
Shall e'er his pow'rs deftroy;
But he fhall draw immortal breath,
In endless pain, or joy.

Important thought!-O mortal, hear
On what thy peace depends:

The voice of Truth invites thine ear,
And this the voice fhe fends:

"When

"When virtue glows with youthful charms,
How bright the vernal skies!
When virtue like the fummer warms,
What golden harvests rise!

When vices fpring without controul,
What bitter fruits appear!
A wintry darkness marks the foul,
And horrors close the year.

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