For Providence decrees, that we obtain

With toil each bleffing deftin'd to our use; But means to teach us, that our toil is vain If He the bounty of his hand refuse.

Yet, Albion, blame not what thy crime demands, While this fad truth the blufhing Mufe betraysMore frequent echoes o'er thy harvest lands,

The voice of Riot than the voice of Praife.

Prolific tho' thy fields, and mild thy clime,
Realms fam'd for fields as rich, for climes as fair,
Have fall'n the prey of Famine, War, and Time,
And now no semblance of their glory bear.

Ask Palestine, proud Afia's early boast,

Where now the groves that pour'd her wine and oil; Where the fair towns that crown'd her wealthy coaft; Where the glad fwains that till'd her fertile foil:

Afk, and behold, and mourn her hapless fall!

Where rofe fair towns, where toil'd the jocund fwain, Thron'd on the naked rock and mould'ring wall,

Pale Want and Ruin hold their dreary reign.

Where Jordan's vallies fimil'd in living green, Where Sharon's flow'rs difclos'd their varied hues, The wand'ring pilgrim views the alter'd scene, And drops the tear of pity as he views.

Afk Grecia, mourning o'er her ruin'd tow'rs; Where now the prospects charm'd her bards of old, Her corn-clad mountains and Elyfian bow'rs,

And filver ftreams thro' fragrant meadows roll'd?

Where Freedom's praise along the vale was heard,
And town to town return'd the fav'rite found;

Where Patriot War her awful standard rear'd,
And brav'd the millions Perfia pour'd around?
There

There Freedom's praife no more the valley chears,
There Patriot War no more her banner waves;

Nor bard, nor fage, nor martial chief appears,
But ftern barbarians rule a land of flaves,

Of mighty realms are fuch the poor remains?
Of mighty realms that fell, when mad with pow'r,
They call'd for Vice to revel on their plains;

The monster doom'd their offspring to devour!

O Albion! wouldst thou fhun their mournful fate,
To fhun their follies and their crimes be thine;
And woo to linger in thy fair retreat,

The radiant Virtues, progeny divine!

Fair Truth, with dauntless eye and aspect bland;
Sweet Peace, whofe brow no angry frown deforms;
Soft Charity, with over-open hand;

And Courage, calm amid surrounding storms.

O lovely

1

O lovely Train! O`hafte to grace our Isle!

So may

the pow'r who ev'ry bleffing yields,

Bid on her clime ferenest seasons smile,

And crown with annual wealth her far-fam'd fields,

EL EGY IV.

Written at the Approach of WINTER.

HE Sun far fouthward bends his annual way,

TH

The bleak North-eaft Wind lays the forefts bare, The fruit ungather'd quits the naked fpray,

And dreary Winter reigns o'er earth and air.

No mark of vegetable life is feen,

No bird to bird repeats his tuneful call; Save the dark leaves of fome rude evergreen, Save the lone red-breaft on the mofs-grown wall,

Where are the sprightly profpects Spring fupply'd,

The may-flower'd hedges fcenting every breeze; The white flocks fcatt'ring o'er the mountain's fide, The woodlarks warbling on the blooming trees?

Where