A POEM. 151 



Not past redemption though; the latent power 

 My constitution held, put off the hour, 

 That must alike, the timid and the brave, 

 Regardless usher to the silent grave. 

 Praises to God ! tho' not the man I was, 

 His mercies vast, afford but trifling cause 

 For vain repinings : partially bereft 

 Of strength beyond my share, yet has He left 

 A well-knit frame, still capable to rove 

 The live- long day, pursuing sports I love ; 

 The nerve unshaken, the whole man upholds, 

 While viscid muscle each firm limb enfolds. 



The hurricane the rugged oak o'erthrows, 

 Whose force the lentil neither feels nor knows ;-~ 

 What will avail the world and all its pelf, 

 If health you lose, by being to yourself 

 Scarce less than foe ] to make the gall still worse, 

 Each after blessing then contains a curse. 

 Take then, this hint, if one I now address 

 With youth and vigour, the chief happiness 



