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HE N the Cock crew, bewept"-smote by that eye,
Which looks on me, on aH; That pow's,who bids This midnight centinel, with clarion fhrill, Emblem of that which shall awake the dead, Rouse fouls from slumber, into thoughts of Heaven. Shall I too weep? Where then is fortitude? And fortitude abandon'd, where is man? I know the terms on which he sees the light; He that is born, is listed ; life is war ; Eternal war with woe. Who bears it beft, Deserves it least. On other themes I'll dwell. Lorenzo ! let me turn my thoughts on thee, And thine, on themes may profit; profit there, Where most thy need. Themes, too, the genuine growth Of dear PHIL ANN DER's duft. He, thus, tho' dead,
May Atill befriend-What themes ? Time's wondrous Price,
So could I touch these themes, as might obtain
dark cloud an Iris ; and from grief
How late I shudder'd on the brink! how late
For Esculapian, but for Moral aid.
Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain?
Thoa say'ft I preach, LORENZO ! 'Tis confeft.
toys amuse, when med'cines cannot curè ?
: What pleads Lorenzo for his high-priz'd sports ? He pleads time's num'rous blanks; he loudly pleads The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. From whom those blanks and trifles, but from thee No blank, no trifle, nature made, or meant. Virtue, or purpos’d virtue, still be thine ; This cancels thy complaint at once, This leaves In act no trifle, and no blank in time. This greatens, fills, immortalizes all; This, the blest art of turning all to gold ; This, the good heart's prerogative to raise A royal tribute from the poorest hours ; Immense revenue ! ev'ry moment pays. If nothing more than purpose in thy power ; Thy purpose firm, is equal to the deed : Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more. Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint ; 'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer; Guard well thy thought; our thoughts are heard in heaven.
On all-important Time, thro' ev'ry age, Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urgʻd; the man Is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour. “ I've lost a day.” The prince who nobly cry'd Had been an emperor without his crown ; Of Rome ? say, rather, lord of human race: He fpoke, as if deputed by mankind. So should all speak: So reafon speaks in all : From the soft whispers of that God in man, Why fly to folly, why to phrensy fly,