THE MISER AND PLUTUS.-Gay. THE wind was high, the window shakes, Looks back and trembles as he walks : But now, "Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, "This heart had known sweet peace of mind. "But virtue's sold. Good gods, what price "Can recompense the pangs of vice! "O, bane of good! seducing cheat! "Can man, weak man, thy power defeat? "Gold banish'd honour from the mind, "And only left the name behind; "Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill; "Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill; He spoke, and sigh'd. In angry mood The miser trembling lock'd his chest ;- "And power (when lodg'd in their possession) THE SICK MAN AND THE ANGEL.-Gay. "Is there no hope?" the sick man said: The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave, with signs of sorrow, When thus the man, with gasping breath: "Since I must bid the world adieu, "I grant, my bargains well were made, 66 By good security on lands, "Is well encreas'd. If, unawares, "My will hath made the world amends; 66 My hope on charity depends. "When I am number'd with the dead, "And all my pious gifts are read, By heav'n and earth, 'twill then be known An angel came: "Ah, friend," he cried, 66 Outweigh the balance of thy crimes ? "What widow or what orphan prays "To crown thy life with length of days? "A pious action's in thy power, "Embrace with joy the happy hour; "Now, while you draw the vital air, "Prove your intention is sincere ; "This instant give a hundred pound; "Your neighbours want, and you abound." "But why such haste,” the siek man whines, "Who knows as yet what Heav'n designs? 66 Perhaps I may recover still;— “That sum and more are in my will.” "Fool," said the vision, "now 'tis plain, "Your life, your soul, your heav'n was gàin; "From ev'ry side, with all your might; "You scrap'd, and scrap'd beyond your right, "And after death would fain atone, 66 By giving what is not your own." “While there is life, there's hope,” he cried; “Then why such haste ?" so groan'd and died. THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.—Gay. UPON a time, a neighing steed, And spread dissension through the plain.. "Good gods! how abject is our race, "Because our sires have borne the chain "Consider, friends, your strength and might; "'Tis conquest to assert your right; "How cumb'rous is the gilded coach! "The pride of man is our reproach; "Were we design'd for daily toil, "To drag the plough-share through the soil, "To sweat in harness through the road, "To groan beneath the carrier's load? "How feeble are the two-legg'd kind! "What force is in our nerves combin'd! "Shall, then, our nobler jaws submit "To foam and champ the galling bit? "Shall haughty man my back bestride? "Shall the sharp spur provoke my side? "Forbid it heavens! Reject the rein, "Your shame, your infamy disdain; “Let him the lion first control, "And still the tyger's famish'd growl: "Let us, like them, our freedom claim, "And make him tremble at our name." A general nod approved the cause, "When I had health and strength, like you, "The toils of servitude I knew ; |