But fixed unalterable Care

Foregoes not what she feels within,
Shows the same sadness every where,
And slights the season and the scene.
For all that pleased in wood or lawn,
While Peace possessed these silent bowels,
Her animating smile withdrawn,

Has lost its beauties and its powers.

The saint or moralist should tread
This moss-grown alley musing, slow;
They seek like me the secret shade,
But not like me to nourish wo!

Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste
Alike admonish not to roam;
These tell me of enjoyments past,
And those of sorrows yet to come.

THE WINTER NOSEGAY.

WHAT Nature, alas! has denied
To the delicate growth of our isle,
Art has in a measure supplied,

And winter is decked with a smile.

See, Mary, what beauties I bring

From the shelter of that sunny shed,

Where the flowers have the charms of the sp. ing, Though abroad they are frozen and dead."

"Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets,

Where Flora is still in her prime,

A fortress to which she retreats

From the cruel assaults of the clime. While Earth wears a mantle of snow, These pinks are as fresh and as gay As the fairest and sweetest that blow On the beautiful bosom of May.

See how they have safely survived
The frowns of a sky so severe;
Such Mary's true love, that has lived
Through many a turbulent year.
The charms of the late blowing rose
Seemed graced with a livelier hue,
And the winter of sorrow best shows
The truth of a friend such as you.

MUTUAL FORBEARANCE,

NECESSARY TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MARRIED STATE

THE lady thus addressed her spouse:
What a mere dungeon is this house!
By no means large enough: and was it,
Yet this dull room, and that dark closet,
Those hangings with their worn out graces,
Long beards, long noses, and pale faces
Are such an antiquated scene,

They overwhelm me with the spleen.

Sir Humphrey, shooting in the dark,
Makes answer quite beside the mark :
No doubt, my dear, I bade him come,
Engaged myself to be at home,
And shall expect him at the door
Precisely when the clock strikes four.
You are so deaf, the lady cried,
(And raised her voice and frowned beside,)
You are so sadly deaf, my dear,
What shall I do to make you hear?
Dismiss poor Harry! he replies;
Some people are more nice than wise:
For one slight trespass all this stir?
What if he did ride whip and spur,
'Twas but a mile-your favourite horse
Will never look one hair the worse.

Well, I protest 'tis past all bearingChild! I am rather hard of hearingYes, truly; one must scream and ball: I tell you, you can't hear at all! Then, with a voice exceeding low, No matter if you hear or no Alas! and is domestic strife, That sorest ill of human life, A plague so little to be feared, As to be wantonly incurred, To gratify a fretful passion, On every trivial provocation? The kindest and the happiest pair Will find occasion to forbear: And something, every day they live, To pity, and perhaps forgive. But if infirmities, that fall In common to the lot of all, A blemish or a sense impaired, Are crimes so little to be spared, Then farewell all that must create The comfort of the wedded state; Instead of harmony, 'tis jar, And tumult, and intestine war.

The love that cheers life's latest stage, Proof against sickness and old age, Preserved by virtue from declension, Becomes not weary of attention; But lives, when that exterior grace, Which first inspired the flame, decays, "Tis gentle, delicate, and kind, To faults compassionate or blind, And will with sympathy endure Those evils it would gladly cure: But angry, coarse, and harsh expression Shows love to be a mere profession; Proves that the heart is none of his, Or soon expels him if it is.

THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.

FORCED from home and all its pleasures
Afric's coast I left forlorn;

To increase a stranger's treasures,
O'er the raging billows borne.

Men from England bought and sold me,
Paid my price in paltry gold;
But, though slave they have enrolled me
Minds are never to be sold.

Still in thought as free as ever,

What are England's rights, I ask,

Me from my delights to sever,
Me to torture, me to task?
Fleecy locks and black complexion
Cannot forfeit Nature's claim;
Skins may differ, but affection

Dwells in white and black the same.

Why did all creating Nature

Make the plant for which we toil? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.

Is there, as ye sometimes tell us,

Is there one who reigns on high? Has he bid you buy and sell us, Speaking from his throne the sky? Ask him, if your knotted scourges, Matches, blood-extorting screws Are the means that duty urges Agents of his will to use?

Hark! he answers-wild tornadoes,
Strewing yonder sea with wrecks;
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,
Are the voice with which he speaks.
He, foreseeing what vexations
Afric's sons should undergo,
Fixed their tyrant's habitations
Where his whirlwinds answer-no.

By our blood in Afric wasted,
Ere our necks received the chain;
By the miseries that we tasted,
Crossing in your barks the main;
By our suffering since ye brought us
To the man-degrading mart;
All, sustained by patience, taught us
Only by a broken heart:

Deem our nation brutes no longer,
Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger
Than the colour of our kind.
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings
Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that you have human feelings,
Ere you proudly question ours!

PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.

Video meliora proboque,

Deteriora sequor.'—

I own I am shocked at the purchase of slaves, And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves;

What I hear of their hardships, their tortures, and

groans,

Is almost enough to draw pity from stones.