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-Placidaque ibi demum morte quievit.


There calm at length he breathed his soul away.

« On most delightful hour by man

• Experienced here below, « The hour that terminates his span,

“ His folly, and his woe!

« Worlds should not bribe me back to tread

“ Again life's dreary waste, “ To see again my day o'erspread

“ With all the gloomy paft.

“ My home henceforth is in the skies,

“ Earth, feas, and fun adieu ! « All heaven unfolded to my eyes, " I have no fight for you.”

So spoke Afpafio, firm poffeft

Of faith's supporting rod,
Then breathed his soul into its reft,

The borom of his God.

He was a man among the few

Sincere on virtue's fide; And all his strength from scripture drew,

To hourly use applied.

'That rule he prized, by that he feared,

He hated, hoped, and loved;
Nor ever frowned, or fad appeared,

But when his heart had roved.

For he was frail as thou or I,

And evil felt within:
But when he felt it, heaved a sighg.

And loathed the thought of sin,

Such lived Afpafio; and at laft

Called up from Earth to Heavenr, The gulph of death triumphant pasledy.

By gales of blessing driven.

His joys be mine, cach Reader cries,

When my last hour arrives :
They shall be yours, my Verse replies,

Such only be your lives.



Ne commonentem recta sperne.


Despise not my good counsel.

He who sits from day to day,

Where the prisoned lark is hung, Heedless of his loudest lay,

Hardly knows that he has sung.

Where the watchman in his round

Nightly lifts his voice on high, None, accustomed to the found, Wakes the sooner for his cry.

So your verse-man I, and clerk,

Yearly in my song proclaim Death at hand-yourselves his mark

And the foe's unerring aim.

Duly at my time I come,

Publishing to all aloud
Soon the grave must be your home,

And your only suit, a shroud.

But the monitory strain,

Oft repeated in your ears,
Seems to found too much in vain,

Wins no notice, wakes no fears.

Can a truth, by all confessed

Of such magnitude and weight, Grow, by being oft expressed,

Trivial as a parrot's prate?

Pleasure's call attention wins,

Hear it often as we may ; New as ever seem our fins,

Though committed every day.

Death and Judgment, Heaven and Hell

These alone, so often heard, No more move us than the bell

When some stranger is interred.

Oh then, ere the turf or tomb

Cover us from every eye, Spirit of instruction come,

Make us learn that we must die.

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