Our dear delights are often such,
Expos'd to view, but not to touch:

The sight our foolish heart inflames,
We long for pine-apples in frames:
With hopeless wish one looks and lingers;
One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers;
But they whom truth and wisdom lead,
Can gather honey from a weed.

HORACE. Book the 2d. ODE the 10th.

I.

RECEIVE, dear friend, the truths I teach,

So shalt thou live beyond the reach

Of adverse Fortune's pow'r;

Not always tempt the distant deep,

Nor always timorously creep

Along the treach'rous shore.

II.

He, that holds fast the golden mean,

And lives contentedly between

The little and the great,

Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,

Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door,

Imbitt'ring all his state.

III.

The tallest pines feel most the pow'r

Of wintry blasts; the loftiest tow'r
Comes heaviest to the ground;

The bolts, that spare the mountain's side,
His cloud-capt eminence divide,

And spread the ruin round.

IV.

The well-inform'd philosopher

Rejoices with an wholesome fear,

And hopes, in spite of pain;

If winter bellow from the north,

Soon the sweet spring comes dancing forth,

And nature laughs again.

V.

What if thine heav'n be overcast,

The dark appearance will not last;

Expect a brighter sky.

The God that strings the silver bow

Awakes sometimes the muses too,

And lays his arrows by.

VI.

If hindrances obstruct thy way,

Thy magnanimity display,

And let thy strength be seen; But oh! if Fortune fill thy sail With more than a propitious gale,

Take half thy canvass in.

A REFLECTION

ON THE FOREGOING ODE.

And is this all? Can reason do no more

Than bid me shun the deep and dread the shore? Sweet moralist! afloat on life's rough sea,

The Christian has an art unknown to thee:

He holds no parley with unmanly fears;

Where duty bids, he confidently steers,

Faces a thousand dangers at her call,

And, trusting in his God, surmounts them all.

TRANSLATIONS FROM VINCENT BOURNE.

I. THE GLOW-WORM.

I.

BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream,

A worm is known to stray;

That shows by night a lucid beam,

Which disappears by day.

II.

Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;

Some give that honour to his tail,

And others to his head.

III.

But this is sure-the hand of might

That kindles up the skies,

Gives him a modicum of light

Proportion'd to his size.

IV.

Perhaps indulgent nature meant,

By such a lamp bestow'd,

To bid the trav'ler, as he went,

Be careful where he trod:

V.

Nor crush a worm, whose useful light

Might serve, however small,

To shew a stumbling stone by night,

And save him from a fall.

VI.

Whate'er she meant, this truth divine

Is legible and plain,

'Tis pow'r almighty bids him shine,

Nor bids him shine in vain.