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So shall each hill in purer green array'd, And flower adorn’d in new-born beauty glow; The grove shall smooth the horrors of the
shade, And streams and murmurs shall forget to
flow. Shine, Goddess, shine with unremitted ray, And gild (a second sun) with brighter beam
Labour with thee forgets his pain,
If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain,
The morning opens on high
His glories in a golden shower.
ray Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn : The brood obscene, that own her gloomy
sway, Troop in her rear, and fly th' approach of
Pale shivering ghosts, that dread th’all-cheer
ing light, Quick, as the lightning's flash, glide to
But whence the gladdening beam
his purple stream
With Laughter at her side.
Fear not now AMiction's power,
Nor fear ye aught in evil hour, Save the tardy hand of Age. Now mirth hath heard the suppliant Poet's
prayer ; No cloud that rides the blast, shall vex the troubled air.
Independence. Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's
next best gift, To that of life and an immortal foul ! The life of life ! that to the banquet high And sober meal gives taste; to the bow'd
roof Fair-dream'd repose, and to the cottage
charms. Of public Freedom, hail, thou secret Source! Whose streams from every quarter confluent
form My better Nile, that nurses human life. By rills from thee deduc'd, irriguous, fed, The private field looks gay, with Nature's
wealth Abundant flows, and blooms with each dem
light That nature craves. Its happy master there, The only Freeman, walks his pleasing round:
Sweet-featurd Peace attending ; fearless
Truth; Firm Refolution ; Goodness, blessing all That can rejoice ; Contentment, surest friend; And, still fresh stores from nature's book
deriv'd, Philofophy, companion ever-new. These chcer his rural, and sustain or fire, When into action callid, his busy hours. Mean-time true judging moderate desires, Oeconomy and Tafte, combin'd, direct His clear affairs, and from debauching fiends Secure his little kingdom. Nor can those Whom Fortune heaps, without these Vir
tues, reach That truce with pain, that animated ease That self-enjoyment springing from within ; That Independence, active, or retird, Which make the foundest bliss of man be.
But, lost beneath the rubbish of their means, And drain’d by wants to Nature all un
known, A wandering, tasteless, gaily-wretched train,
Tho' rich, are beggars, and tho' noble,
A Winter Piece.
down the snow,
blast did blow, When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewilderd
in her way,
Prest her baby to her bosom, and sadly thus
“ Oh cruel was my father, that shut his
door on me, And cruel was my mother, that such a figlit