No more your blandishments my heart detain,
Beauty and pleasure make their court in vain ;
Objects divine and infinite in view,
Seize all my powers, ye fading toys, from you.

'Tis finish'd now, the great deciding part !
The world's subdu’d, and thou hast all my heart;
It triumphs in the change, it fixes here,
Nor needs another separation fear.
No fatal chance thro' endless years shall rise,
The series of my pleasures to surprise ;
No various scenes to come, no change of place,
Shall e'er thy image from my soul efface;
Nor life, nor death, nor distant height above,
Nor depths below, shall part me from thy love,

THE STATE OF OLD AGE.

HE seas are quiet when the winds give o'er,

So calm are we when passions rage no more ; Clouds of affection from our younger eyes, Conceals that emptiness which time descries. The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay’d, Lets in new light thro'chinks that time has made. Stranger by weakness wiser men become, As they draw nearer to their latest home. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, Who stand upon the threshold of the new.

CHAP. CHAP. VII. OF JOB, PARAPHRASED.

BY THE LATE MR. SAMUEL BOYSE.

AS not kind heaven, regarding human woe,

Set a fix'd period to our race below? Known to th' All-wise is our uncertain stay, And we, like hirelings, toil but by the day: Then when the busy tedious dream is o'er, We sink into the grave, and are no more. And is then death our sumber? our repose ? Oh! when shall death Job's weary'd eye-lids close ! As with desiring eyes the harrass’d swain Expects the evening-shade to quit the plain; So with impatience to the grave I bend, And long to see my numerous sorrows end : For crush'd, O LORD! beneath thy powerful arm, What balm can cure my griefs ? what music charm? While in a thousand lapes thy wrath I know, And feel a strange variety of woe !

When will my long protracted troubles cease? And this tormented sufferer be at peace ! Each ling’ring night in agonies I lie, And oft I wish, but wilh in vain, to die; In filent woe I lengthen out the night, Then curse the gloom, and wait the dawning light: The dawning light returns---but not to me, And all but I its kindly aspect see :

To

To me no friendly seasons e'er return,
Nor gives the evening ease, nor joy the morn.

With-hold at length thy wrath, and set me free,
For what is job, O God! to strive with thee
Than thought more swift my feeting moments pass ;
Consum'd, I wither as the fading grass.
Remember, LORD, my transient life, like wind,
Blows off unseen, nor leaves a trace behind :
Short as it is, why is it then oppreft,
Curst by that Being who once made it bleft?
Oh close the scene---and let my forrows ceafe,
Diffolve the chain, and frown me into peace !

Each evening yields the sun to fable night,
But every morn returns again as bright;
Within earth's lap the yearly feed is thrown,
And nature's bounteous hand repays the loan :
But man within the grave for ever lies,
Till nature's death permitted not to rise;
Till then forbid the fainteft glimpse of day,
Or re-ascend the long forgotten way;
No more indulg’d to see the chearful light,
Or sweet vicissitudes of day and night:
Here look, vain men, and human greatness see,
Dust once ye were, and dust again must be !

Oh! why should tortur'd job his fighs refrain?
Or suffering thus, why should he not complain?
Allow him prostrate then to ask his God,
Why thus thou break'st this animated clod ?
Why watchest thou my steps -severely just?
And while I bend me groaning to the dust,

Forbid'ft me one short interval of rest,
And emptieft all thy quiver in my breast !
In vain for rest I to my couch repair,
And hope in sleep to diffipate my care;
For there in awful visions I behold
My terrors heighten'd, and my hopes contrould:
How can I then this wretched life fuftain,
When sleep, death's image, but augments my pain?

Oft when alone, and in the ev’ning lhade,
I call for death but call in vain for aid:
For thou unmov'd still lengthen’ft out my pains,
And whom thy wrath torments, thy power sustains.
Oh finish, gracious Lord ! th' unequal strife,
And I to buy my peace will quit my life.
What did I say of life ?---that galling chain !
By thee afflicted, what is life but pain?
I would not live, nor bear the dreadful load ;
I sink, I faint, beneath thy chast'ning rod !
Oh cease to urge what nature cannot bear!
Nor fill me thus with anguish and despair;
Withdraw thy cruel all-supporting power !
And lo! I perish in that gracious hour !

Then humbly in thy fight I lay me down, At once thy justice and my crimes I own. To thee for mercy and relief I come; Oh take this late repenting rebel home. Oh let thy pity ease and set me free, And give me in destruction rest to see: So shall the voice of my complaining cease, And Job's last breath shall bless thee for his peace.

CHAP.

CHAP. III. OF JOB, TRANSLATED.

BY THE SAME.

THE

VHUS JOB beganCurst be the fatal morn,

In which distinguish'd wretchedness was born! From the fair round of the revolving year Perish that day! nor let the night appear, In which this wretched being first began To swell to misery and promise man! Let darkness stain it o'er, no friendly ray Pierce thro' the gloom of that accursed day! But Thades of terror o'er its circuit spread, And fold it in the mantle of the dead ! May all its stars with rays diminish'd show, And thro' the dusky air obscurely glow! No glimpse of hope the dreadful scene adorn, Nor let it see the promise of a morn! Because it shut not up my mother's womb, Nor join'd at once my cradle and my tomb: Why dy'd I not? why did preventive care My destin'd life for future sorrows spare ? Then had I found that ease I seek in vain, Nor known this load of unexampled pain !

O grave! thou refuge of the soul distreft ! When shall I fink into thy downy rest? There kings and mighty ones neglected rot, In their own mould'ring monuments forgot:

(Tho'