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JAMES MOODY, OF WARWICK.
Two famous Statesmen *, and two Heroes brave +,
If polish'd manners, and if taste refin’d, -
Lately, the Man of God exalted stood,
Small spot of earth where rest his sacred bones,
O much-respected, much-lamented friend,
Oft, as thy people tread the flow'ry fields,
* Messrs. Pitt and Fox.
+ Lords Nelson and Cornwallis. † The Upper Avon passes by Warwick, washing the lofty walls of the venerable castle, from whence it proceeds to Stratford, distant eight miles, celebrated for being the birthplace of Shakespeare.
rus shall one speak, and heave a heartfelt sign,
« Till that bless'd hour, much-honor'd friend, Adieu !!! Wotton under Edge.
COMPOSED DURING ILLNESS. 'Tis true, here is another year;
ALAS! how frail our mortal frame ! And I'm permitted to appear
How near the grave we dwell! Before thee, and thy name revere, A sudden cough, a bursting vein,
And we must bid farewell ! Tho' I've abusid thy providence, My flutt'ring heart,-why sink and beat Tho’long I've liv'd in indolence,
So briskly at the thought ? Yet in thy love me recompence,
Why shrink at what each mortal knows, My Jesus.
As though thou knew'st it not? O that I had a glimpse of thee ! It cannot be! Death's arrows tly O that I had but faith to see
Where'er thine eyes survey: Thy righteousuess transferr'd to me, Insatiable he gulps his meal
Of thousands in a day! But, 0 this vile deceitful heart, Alas! tho’ friends and neighbours die, So loth with earthly joy to part,
Death is a stranger still ; I fear will make thee hence depart, And shrinking Nature shuts her eyes
Against the dreaded ill. Then since in sio I am involv'd,
We shun the dart, we shin the sight, On thee be all my sins devolvid,
We shun the place of Death, That I henceforth may be absolvid, As tho' we never were to meet,
Or to resign our breath ! Sweetly permit me to confide
But let us view this monster near, In thee alone, and none beside ;
Examine him anew ; Ever be thou my God, my Guide, Anál from the good man's mortal couch
Take an impartial view. But here is no continued rest,
Here say, my soul, what terrors dwell: Earth is a wilderness at best;
Does fear distort his eyes ? But thou canst make me truly blest, Does be view Death as sinners do:
With horrible surprize! On thee then I wili humbly call,
Cain and serene, he smiles to feel When this clay tepement shall fall,
The last dissevering pain ; And joy to crown thee Lord of All,
Just as the glimm’ring fame expires, My Jesus!
He whispers, “ Death is gain!” Till then, dear Lord, thy servant keep, Gain! yes, my soul, to die is gain, By night, by day, awake, asieep;
To those who are prepard : Aod place me with thy dear-bought
They leave their sins, and pains, and sheep,
fears, Keep me depenflent on thy grace,
Aud gain a rich reward ! Till I shall see thee face to face,
May I then seck this wond'rous gain! And be complete in thine embrace, To Jesus let me dy!
O be my Saviour while I live, 'AXOO0G My Saviour when I die! Evesham.
“ Quick as the slant Auroral bearis ON TIIE NEW YEAR.
Or as the flight of Fancy's dream,
Roll on your fleeting days ; From the pleasant laud of Hermon,
Shortly, my form you shall assume, From the top of Mizar's height; And swelling Earth’s prolific womb Backward look with grateful pleasure;
A grassy hillock raise. Forward look with sweet delight!
" To conquer Death is heav'nly art ; Viewing time and seasons changing, Nature, howe'er she act her part, Rolling round the circling sun,
Must to the Monarch yield: Hlast’ning on the course of Nature, 'Twas He who fought on Calvary, Time, thy race will soon be run!
Je dyiog gain'd the victory, Run then Time, let Nature hasten
And slew him on the field ! To her destin'd final end :
“ The ensigns which the vidor wears May each year, each moment, bring me Are a rough cross and bloody spears, Nearer to my much-lov'd Friend!
White wool his robe adorns ; Friend to man, the Friend of sinners, And on his bold majestic brow Friend to my once friendless soul; Sits, woven with an olive bough, He that show'd me his great mercy,
A coronet of thorns ! Bids the wheck of Nature roll.
“ His righteousness a shield can forut, Spared to another season,
To guard amid the angry storm, Spared to see another year,
That sweeps along the dale, May the life by thee protected, To turn the point of arrowy show'rs Still thy bounties largely share!
From principalities and pow'rs, Bounties both of grace and goodness
Shot in the shadowy vale. That thy hands so wide bestow;
Faith in his merits arms the soul, Then my grateful thanks I'll offer, While Hope can ev'ry fear controul, Then my heart-felt love shall glow;
And urge you in the fight :
Then Christian in the valley sings,
60 Death! where are thy venom'd To the world thy praise I'll show!
Putting his foes to flight.
So does a firm and valiant rock
Or irritated waves,
Till in disorder they retire,
And seek, amid phosphoric fire, The Vocal Ashes of a departed Muse.
Unfathomable graves !”
ADJUTOR THE Muse is dead! her ashes speak !
os oss from the cold tomb the accents break
PSALM LXVIII. 4.
Praise ye Him, Sun and Moon, &c. * My friends, direct your wand'ring BRIGAT Sup! thou source of light and eyes
heat, To this instructive stone.
Shine to thy great Creator's praise ! foolish epitaph it bears,
He hug thee in the blue expanse, Nor gaudy Pride's insignia wears,
And fill'd• thine orb with golden rays!' Nor gives the lie to truth;
Pale Moon! who shedd'st thy silver But teaches in emphatic sound
beams Some lessons from beneath the ground, O'er the dark reign of solemn Night, Alike to age and youth !
Praise him in thy nocturnal tour, “Reader, approach this shadowing yew,
Who ihus, supplies thy sphere with And let your tears the turf bedew,
light! To mark the spoils of Death : Sparkle lis praise, ye starry train, Here, prostrate lic the young and old, That spot with gold Night's sable robe, The laurels of the wise and bold, He plac'd your glitt'ring lamps on high
And c'en the poet's wreath! To shine when darkness gloðins the “ As in the bright reflecting glass,
globe! Eyeing its surface when you pass, Shall Man, the noblest work of Heaven, An image starts in view;
Forbear the thankful hymn to raise ? Tho' dark be the surrounding shades, Let gratitude inspire his heart, A mirror's light the scene pervades, To give his gracious Maker praise ! And shews a type of you.
Printed by G. AULD, Greville Sireet, London.