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Charity fhewn to worthy objets is like bread caft upon the waters, which thou fhall find after many days.



ITY the forrows of a old



Whofe trembling limbs have borne him to your door,

Whofe days are dwindled to the shortest span;

Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your flore.


Thefe tatter'd cloaths my poverty bespeak,

These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years;
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek,
Hath been the channel to a flood of tears.


Yon house erected on the rifing ground,

With tempting afpect drew me from my road; For plenty there a refidence has found,

And grandeur a magnificient abode.



Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!
Here as I crav'd a morfel of their bread,
A pamper'd menial drove me from the door;
To feek a fhelter in an humbler fhed.


Oh! take me to your hofpitable dome,

Keen blows the wind and piercing is the cold; Short is my paffage to the friendly tomb,

For I am poor and miferably old*.


Could I reveal the fources of my grief,

If foft humanity e'er touch'd your breast, Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, And tears of pity would not be repreft.


Heaven fends misfortunes! why should we repine !'

'Tis Heaven that brought me to this state And your condition may be foon like mine, The child of forrow and of misery t.

you fee,

A little

Age and poverty join'd together muft ever be deferv ing the benevolence and compaffion of the rich and great. A flate of affluence is as uncertain in its continuance, as fleeting wealth can make it.


A little farm was my paternal lot,
Then like the lark I fprightly hail'd the morn;
But ah! oppreffion forc'd me from my cot,
My cattle died and blighted was my corn.


My danghter once the comfort of my age,
Lur'd by a villain from her native home,
Is caft abandon'd on the world's wide stage,
And doom'd in fcanty poverty to roam.


My tender wife fweet foother of my care!
Struck with fad anguish at the ftern decree,

Fell ling'ring, fell a victim to despair,

And left the world to wretchedness and me.



Pity the forrows of a poor old

Whofe trembling limbs has borne him to your door; Whofe days are dwindled to the fhortest span,

Oh! give relief and Heaven will blefs





By Dr. PARNell.

What the Almighty does, men know not, but they shall know hereafter.

AR in a wild unknown to public view,


From youth to age a rev'rend Hermit grew ;
The mofs his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the chrystal well*:
Remote from man with God he pass'd his days,
Pray'r all his bufinefs, all his pleasure praise.
A life fo facred, fuch ferene repose,
Seem'd Heaven itfelf, till one fuggeftion rofe-
That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey;
This fprung fome doubt of Providence's fway:
His hopes no more a certain profpect boast,
And all the tenour of his foul is loft.

So, when a smooth expanse receives, impress'd,
Calm Nature's image on its wat'ry breast,


In fuch retreats the Hermit fpends his days,
In heav'nly contemplation, prayer and praife ;
And lives on nature's common, free from care,
His drink the fpring, wild fruits his daily fare.
Rural Chirfl

Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,
And skies beneath with answering colours glow:
But if a ftone the gentle fea divide,

Swift ruffling currents curl on ev'ry fide,
And glimm'ring fragments of a broken fun;
Banks, trees, and skies, in thick diforder run.
To clear this doubt, to know the world by fight.
To find if books or fwains report it right,
(For yet by fwains alone the world he knew,
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew)
He quits his cell; the pilgrim's ftaff he bore,
And fix'd the fcallop in his hat before;
Then with the rifing fun a journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.

The morn was wasted in the pathlefs grass,
And long and lone fome was the wild to pass,
But when the fouthern fun had warm'd the day,
A youth came pofting o'er a croffing way;
His raiment decent, his complexion fair,
And foft, in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair:
Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cry'd;
And hail, my fon! the rev'rend fire reply'd;
Words follow'd words, from queftion anfwer flow'd,
And talk of various kinds deceiv'd the road;
Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their age they differ, join in heart.
Thus ftands an aged elm in ivy bound,
Thus youthful ivy clafps an elin around.


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