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Alas, alas ! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by :
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue-
Thinking only of her crested head-poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour—but she ne'er came out again!

MORAL.

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed :
· Unto an evil counsellor, close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the spider and the fly.

HOWITT.

LINES TO AN ATHEIST.
No God !”-I will not speak in scorn and wrath,

Nor please thy pride by terror and by Alight;
Too dark already is thy hopeless path,

Thy dreams too weak the spirit to affright.
'Tis vain to reason--thou hast overcome

Her firm foundations and destroyed her light;
'Tis thou art deaf, but nature is not dumb,

Hear but her voice, and it will guide thee right.
Look on our earth! its beauties first survey,

They cannot throng thy path without surprise ;
Thou know'st their uses, yet thou turn'st away,

Nor will thy heart be tutored by thine eyes--
Thou wanderest in a fathomless abyss,

Since order or design no doubt supplies :
Did chance indeed, create a world like this,

Where day and night, and spring and autumn rise ?
Thy senses find an answering object here--

Thine eye the furniture of earth can trace;
Its pleasant sounds fill thine enraptured ear-

Earth was designed to be thy dwelling place.
You feel in life effect does spring from cause,

(In miracles incredulous indeed!)
Oh, tell us, how can your eternal laws,

Without eternal lawgiver proceed ?

'Tis thine to see yon stars, unnumbered suns,

To thee the realms of space ope all their stores ; Thou know'st the rule by which each planet runs,

And canst unlock even heaven's azure doors. For thee the water-drop teems thick with life,

The short-lived insect like a monarch soars Her conqueror, meets no God mid nature's strife,

He vainly ocean, earth, and heaven explores. Some being less than God such worlds might frame,

(Tho' human might must quail at aught so vast); Grant that it might--'tis after all, the same-

Who made thut pow'r--for it must be surpassed ? Proceeding thus—at last there must be One

With self-existent and eternal state, The cause of all, of seraph, worm,

Whose birthless being is without a date.

and sun,

THE HARMONY OF NATURE.

The twilight of a cloudless eve

Is resting on the hill ;
And day's departing glorious gleam

O’er sunny mount and rill.
The kindling radiance of the west

Is beaming from afar ;
Each pillar of the wavy light

Glows like a shooting star.
And deep amid the distant glen,

The hamlet's lowly spire
Is glittering in the joyous beams,

With vane all clothed in fire.
And hark! how sweet its silver chime,

Sonorous, deep, and clear ;
The hallowed sound floats up the dell,

And fills the ravish'd ear.

The fragrance of the southern gale

Is breathing fresh and fair ;
And joyful sounds the woods fling forth

To the clear summer-air.

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