26

“Repine not then, that low thy lot is cast;
Health gives to life or high or low it’s zest;
’Tis Appetite that seasons our repast,
And Weariness still finds the softest rest.

27

“For all thy blessings thankfulness to wake,
Think of less cultur’d lands, less peaceful times;
Our coarsest fare, when sparingly we take,
’Tis luxury, compar’d with other climes.

28

“Think of the poor Greenlanders’ dismal caves,
Where thro’ their long, long Night they buried lie;
Or the more wretched lands where hapless slaves
Hopelessly toil beneath the fervid Sky.

29

“In Britain ... blest with peace and competence,
Rich Fortune’s favours could impart no more:  ... 
Heaven’s blessings equal happiness dispense;
Believe my words, for I am old and poor.

30

“Many who drudge in Labour’s roughest ways,
By whom Life’s simplest, lowliest walks are trod,
Happily live, to honor’d length of days,
Blessing kind Nature, and kind Nature’s God.”

31

What think you, is sage Baldwin right? 
Should Spring-tide Love endure delay? 
And shall our bliss be seal’d ere Night? 
Say, lovely Mary, softly say?

32

Why starts my Love? ... why rise to go? 
Will Mary then my suit deny? 
Sweet is the smile that answers, No! 
By Heaven, there’s rapture in her eye!

* * * * *

THE PROVERBS OF THREESCORE: 

AFFECTIONATELY ADDRESSED TO EIGHTEEN.

[The Contrast.—­Encouragement.—­The Admonition.]

* * * * *

1

  Have you seen the delightless abode,
    Where Penury nurses Despair;
  Where comfortless Life is a load,
    Age wishes no longer to bear. 
  Ah! who, in this lazerhouse pent,
    His lone wailings sends up to the skies? 
  ’Tis the Man whose young prime was mispent;
    ’Tis he who so bitterly sighs.

2

  His Youth, sunk in profligate waste,
    Lest no Comforts Life’s evening to cheer;
  He must only it’s bitterness taste,
    No Friend, no kind relative near. 
  His Children by want forc’d to roam,
    Are aliens wherever they are: 
  They have long left his desolate home;
    Have left him alone to despair.

3

  Have you seen the delectable place,
    Where honor’d Age loves to abide;
  Where Plenty, and Pleasure, and Peace,
    With Virtue and Wisdom reside? 
  Autumn’s Fruits he has carefully stor’d;
    His Herds willing tributes abound: 
  And the smiles of his plenteous board,
    By his Children’s Children are crown’d.

4