fire, Is closely wrapt in warm attire; Whose sparkling glasses blush with wine Of mirthful might and flavour fine; Whose house, compact and strong, defies The rigour of the angry skies! The ruffling winds may blow their last, And snows come driving on the blast; p. 217And frosts their icy morsels fling, But all within is mild as spring!

p. 217

How blest is he!—blest did I say? E’en sorrow here oft finds its way. The senses numbed by frequent use, Of criminal, absurd abuse Of heaven’s blessings, listless grow, And life is but a dream of woe.

Oft fostered on the lap of ease, Grow racking pain and foul disease, And nervous whims, a ghastly train, Inflicting more than corp’ral pain: Oft gold and shining pedigree Prove only splendid misery. The king who sits upon his throne, And calls the kneeling world his own, Has oft of cares a greater load Than he who feels his iron rod.

No state is free from care and pain Where fiery passions get the rein, Or soft indulgence, joined with ease, Begets a thousand ills to tease: Where fair Religion, heavenly maid, Has slighted still her offered aid. Her matchless power the will subdues, And gives the judgment clearer views: Denies no source of real pleasure, And yields us blessings out of measure; Our prospect brightens, proves our stay, December turns to smiling May; Conveys us to that peaceful shore, By raging billows lashed no more, Where endless happiness remains, And one eternal summer reigns.

p. 218VERSES SENT TO A LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY.

p. 218

The joyous day illumes the sky That bids each care and sorrow fly To shades of endless night: E’en frozen age, thawed in the fires Of social mirth, feels young desires, And tastes of fresh delight.

In thoughtful mood your parents dear, Whilst joy smiles through the starting tear, Give approbation due. As each drinks deep in mirthful wine Your rosy health, and looks benign Are sent to heaven for you.

But let me whisper, lovely fair, This joy may soon give place to care, And sorrow cloud this day; Full soon your eyes of sparkling blue, And velvet lips of scarlet hue, Discoloured, may decay.

As bloody drops on virgin snows, So vies the lily with the rose Full on your dimpled cheek; But ah! the worm in lazy coil May soon prey on this putrid spoil, Or leap in loathsome freak.

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