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Divine communion, carefully enjoy'd,
Or sought with energy, must fill the void.
It's happiest seasons, and a peaceful close,
Not knowing thee, we reap with bleeding hands
That scorns afflictions mercifully meant,
Those humours tart as wine upon the fret,
Which idleness and weariness beget;
These, and a thousand plagues, that haunt the
Fond of the phantom of an earthly rest,
Divine communion chases, as the day
Drives to their dens th' obedient beasts of prey.
To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies.
Hear him, o'erwhelm'd with sorrow, yet rejoice;
Unnumber'd pleasures harmlessly pursu'd;
To study culture, and with artful toil
To meliorate and tame the stubborn soil;
To give dissimilar yet fruitful lands
The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands;
To cherish virtue in an humble state,
And share the joys your bounty may create; 790
In colour these, and those delight the smell,
Or lay the landscape on the snowy sheet-
Me poetry (or rather notes that aim
Employs, shut out from more important views,
Content if thus sequester'd I may raise
A monitor's, though not a poet's praise,
TITHING TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX.
VERSES ADDRESSED TO A COUNTRY CLERGYMAN COMPLAINING OF
THE DISAGREEABLENESS OF THE DAY ANNUALLY
APPOINTED FOR RECEIving the DUES AT
COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,
The troubles of a worthy priest
The priest he merry is and blithe
But oh! it cuts him like a sithe,
When tithing-time draws near.