A future cordial for a fainting mind; For, what was ne'er refused, all hoped to find,

Each in his turn, the rich might freely come,

As to a friend; but to the poor, 'twas home.

As to some holy house the afflicted came,

The hunger-starved, the naked and the lame;

Want and disease both fled before her name,

For zeal like hers her servants were too slow;

She was the first, where need required, to go;

Herself the foundress and attendant too.

No pains she suffered, nor expired with noise;

Her soul was whispered out with God's still voice;

As an old friend is beckoned to a feast,

And treated like a long-familiar guest.

He took her as he found, but found her so,

As one in hourly readiness to go: Een on that day, in all her trim prepared;

As early notice she from heaven had heard;

And some descending courier from above

[move; Had given her timely warning to reOr counselled her to dress the nuptial

[From Absalom and Achitophel.]
THE WIT.

A FIERY Soul, which, working out its way,

Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.

A daring pilot in extremity; Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high

He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,

Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.

Great wits are sure to madness near allied,

see.

divide.

In the strength of a mighty glee.

And the warning roar of a fearful blow

Is heard on the distant hill; And the Norther, see! on the mounIn his breath how the old trees writhe tain peak

and shriek!

He shouts on the plain, ho ho ho ho! He drives from his nostrils the blind

ing snow,

And growls with a savage will.

Such a night as this to be found abroad,

all day

the road,

With the snow in his shaggy hair. He shuts his eyes to the wind and growls;

He lifts his head, and moans and howls: [sleet, Then crouching low, from the cutting His nose is pressed on his quivering feet

Pray what does the dog do there?

A farmer came from the village plain,
But he lost the travelled way;
And for hours he trod with might
and main

A path for his horse and sleigh;

And wags his tail when the rude winds flap

The skirt of the buffalo over his lap, And whines that he takes no heed.

The wind goes down and the storm is o'er

'Tis the hour of midnight past; The old trees writhe and bend no more In the whirl of the rushing blast. The silent moon with her peaceful light

Looks down on the hills with snow all white,

And the giant shadow of Camel's
Hump,
[stump,
The blasted pine and the ghostly
Afar on the plain are cast.

But cold and dead by the hidden log

Are they who came from the town: The man in his sleigh, and his faithful dog,

And his beautiful Morgan brown,