« EelmineJätka »
ODE on SOLITUDE'.
APPY the man, whofe wifh and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread,
Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find
Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
b This was a very early production of our Author, written at
about twelve years old.
The dying Chriftian to his SouL.
O D E.
VITAL fpark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame :
Hark! they whifper; Angels fay,
Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath?
The world recedes; it difappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With founds feraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy Victory?
O Death! where is thy Sting?