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COULD I, from Heav'n inspir'd, as sure presage
To whom the rising year shall prove his last,
As I can number in my punctual page,
And item down the victims of the past;

How each would trembling wait the mournful sheet, On which the press might stamp him next to die; And, reading here his sentence, how replete

With anxious meaning, Heav'nward turn his eye!

Time then would seem more precious than the joys,

In which he sports away the treasure now;
And pray'r more seasonable than the noise
Of drunkards, or the music-drawing bow.

Then doubtless many a trifler, on the brink
Of this world's hazardous and headlong shore,
Forc'd to a pause, would feel it good to think,
Told that his setting sun must risc no more.

Ah self-deceiv'd! Could I prophetic say

Who next is fated, and who next to fall,

The rest might then seem privileg'd to play;

But, naming none, the voice now speaks to ALL.

Observe the dappled foresters, how light

They bound and airy o'er the sunny glade—

One falls-the rest, wide-scatter'd with affright,

Vanish at once into the darkest shade.

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Had we their wisdom, should we, often warn'd,

Still need repeated warnings, and at last,

A thousand awful admonitions scorn'd,

Die self-accus'd of life run all to waste?

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Sad waste! for which no after thrift atones:
The grave admits no cure for guilt or sin;
Dew-drops may deck the turf, that hides the bones,
But tears of godly grief ne'er flow within.

Learn then, ye living! by the mouths be taught

Of all these sepulchres, instructors true,
That, soon or late, death also is your lot,

And the next op'ning grave may yawn

for

you.

ON A SIMILAR OCCASION,

FOR THE YEAR 1789.

-Placidaque ibi demum morte quievit.

VIRG.

There calm at length he breath'd his soul away.

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Again life's dreary waste,

"To see again my day o'erspread

"With all the gloomy past.

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“All Heav'n unfolded to my eyes,

"I have no sight for you."

So spake Aspasio, firm possess'd
Of faith's supporting rod,

Then breath'd his soul into it's rest,

The bosom of his God.

He was a man among the few

Sincere on virtue's side;

And all his strength from Scripture drew,

To hourly use applied.

That rule he priz'd, by that he fear'd,

He hated, hop'd, and lov'd;

Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear'd,

But when his heart had rov'd.

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