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A scene, which the patient and pure shall in
herit, Where hearts bleed no more, and the tear
shall be dry. There souls, which on earth in each other
delighted, By friendship, by honour, by virtue united, Shall meet, and their pleasures no more shall
be blighted, But perfect and pure as their love be their joy.
THE WINTER FRIEND.
When the vocal cuckoo wings
To southern climes his way ;
Their vent'rous flight essay;
Upon the naked spray;
And lark that hails the day;
2 Other flatt'rers come and
They urge their rapid wing.
When storms forbid to roam,
And gives us songs at home :
From the Opera of The Royal Merchant,
BY, THOMAS HULL.
1 Go traverse the field and the grove,
Examine the grain and the flower, How nourish'd and cheer'd by the dew !
How beautiful after a shower!
To the Power who gave them to shine,
Ah! tell me what seem they to say ? « We flourish in duty to you,
That you may approve us are gay.”
2 66 We teem with increase and delight,
To honour the source of our birth; For this are we rich in the gale,
For this we are gay on the earth.” Of their treasure, so free, so diffuse,
Sweet emblems ! how well they impart The fulness of pleasure and pride,
When gratitude springs in the heart.
If e'er a Patron I shall find,
Be it my lot propitious
Whom none can say is vicious :
And steward is of Heav'n;
Remembering why 'tis giv'n:
The very heart he favours;
Or mark extreme each error ;
'Twould give me grief unfeigned
Or justly he complained.
* There is a sentiment, in the Opera of TAE ACCOMPLISHED MAID, which has always s!ruck me as being extremely beautiful, and shewing an admirable beart in the Speaker: Fanny says, “ How bountiful has Providence been ju allotting me such humane Benefactors, who, by kiodness, convert misfortène into a blessing”. She does not repine at her dependent state, but feels grateful for, and rejoices in, the benevolence of her Patrons,
6 But, if it chanc'd—as chance it might, The best man is not always right
That be and I agree not ;
Misleads me by forbearance; And in the end I have to find, With keenest anguish of the mind,
His love was but appearance.
9 Oh! never may I pine unheard, Heart-sick at last from hope deferr'd,+
And fruitless expectation :
* Psalm cxli. 5.
+ Prov. xiii, 12.