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JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.
DEAL JOSEPH-five and twenty years agoAlas, how time escapes!-'tis even soWith frequent intercourse, and always sweet, And always friendly, we were wont to cheat A tedious hour-and now we never meet! As some grave gentleman in Terence says, ('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days) Good lack, we know not what to-morrow bringsStrange fluctuation of all human things! True. Changes will befall, and friends may part, But distance only cannot change the heart : And, were I called to prove th' assertion true, One proof should serve-a reference to you.
Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurred to kindle strife, We find the friends we fancied we had won, Though numerous once, reduced to few or none? Can gold grow worthless, that has stood the touch? No; gold they seemed, but they were never such. Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overawed
Lest he should trespass, begged to go abroad.
I knew the man, and knew his nature mild,
And was his plaything often when a child;
But somewhat at that moment pinched him close,
Perhaps his confidence just then betrayed,
But not to moralize too much, and strain To prove an evil, of which all complain, (I hate long arguments verbosely spun) One story more, dear Hill, and I have done. Once on a time an emperor, a wise man, No matter where, in China, or Japan, Decreed, that whosoever should offend Against the well known duties of a friend, Convicted once should ever after wear But half a coat, and show his bosom bare. The punishment importing this, no doubt, That all was naught within, and all found out. O happy Britain! we have not to fear Such hard and arbitrary measure here; Else, could a law, like that which I relate, Once have the sanction of our triple state, Some few, that I have known in days of old, Would run nost dreadful risk of catching cold; While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow Might traverse England safely to and fro, An honest man, close buttoned to the chin, Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.
A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS.
Κεφαλιον δη παιδειας ορθη τροφη.
Αρχη πολιτείας απασης νέων τροφα. Diog. Laert.
REV. WM. CAWTHORNE UNWIN,
Rector of Stock in Essex, the tutor of his two sons, the following poem, recom. mending private tuition, in preference to an education at school, is inscribed by his affectionate friend,
Olney, Nov. 6th, 1784.
It is not from his form, in which we trace
At her command winds rise, and waters roar,
Why did the fiat of a God give birth To yon fair Sun, and his attendant Earth? And, when descending, he resigns the skies, Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise, Whom Ocean feels through all his countless waves And owns her power on every shore he laves? Why do the seasons still enrich the year, Fruitful and young as in their first career? Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rocked in the cradle of the western breeze; Summer in haste the thriving charge receives Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves, Till Autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dews Dye them at last in all their glowing hues."Twere wild confusion all, and bootless waste, Power misemployed, munificence misplaced, Had not its author dignified the plan, And crowned it with the majesty of man. Thus formed, thus placed, intelligent, and taught, Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought. The wildest scorner of his Maker's laws Finds in a sober moment time to pause, To press th' important question on his heart, "Why formed at all, and wherefore as thou art ?" If man be what he seems, this hour a slave, The next mere dust and ashes in the grave; Endued with reason only to descry His crimes and follies with an aching eye;
With passions, just that he may prove, with pain,
Truths, that the learned pursue with eager thought, Are not important always as dear-bought, Proving at last, though told in pompous strains, A childish waste of philosophic pains;
But truths, on which depends our main concern,
What none could reverence all might justly blame,