XXVIU LIFE OF 



VII. 

 Then since this world is vain, 



And volatile and fleet, 

 Why should I lay up earthly joys, 

 "Where rust corrupts, and moths destroys, 

 And cares and sorrows eat? 

 Why fly from ill 

 With anxious skill, 

 When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still ? 



VIII. 



Come, Disappointment, come ! 



Thou art n-ot stern to me ; 

 Sad Monitress ; I own thy sway, 

 A votary sad in early day, 

 I bend my knee to thee. 

 From sun to sun 

 ^ly race will run, 

 I only bow, and say, My God, thy will be done. 



Op another paper are a few lines, written probably in 

 the freshness of his disappointment. 



I dream no more — the vision flies away. 

 And Disappointment » # * 

 There fell my hopes — I lost my all in this. 

 My cherish 'd all of visionary bliss. 

 Now hope farewell, farewell all joys below ; 

 Now welcome sorrow, and now welcome woe. 

 Plunge me in glooms » # * 



His health soon sunk under these habits ; he became 

 pale and thin, and at length had a sharp fit of sickness. 

 On his recovery he wrote the following lines in the church- 

 yard of Ms favourite village. 



LINES ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. 



WRITTEN IN WILFORD CHURCH-YARD. 



Here would I wish to sleep. — This is the spot 

 Which I have long mark'd out to lay my bones in; 

 Tired out and wearied with the riotous world, 

 Beneath this yew I would be sepulchred. 

 It is a lovely spot ! the sultry sun, 



