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ORIGINAL POETRY. 
— 
THE RECREATIONS OF WAR; 
Ov, THE PHiLosoruwy OF HEROLS. 
Written by the Kine of Prussia, during bis 
stay at Breslaw. 
J OVE supports itself by hope, 
Tho? stern Misfortune lower : 
Of zeal, reward’s the certain prop ; 
So of command, is power. 
Credit by probity is lent; 
Health thrives by moderation; 
Wit lives alone with sweet Content; 
Content, far from vexation. 
Softness is the charm of youth 
In lovely woman; beauty’s foil. 
More of brilliancy than truth, 
Ill rewards the author’s toil. 
Happiness consists in earning 
More of virtue than of F learning 5 = 
More of friendship than of passion 5 
More of conduct than of wit; 
More of health than wealth or station; 
More of quiet than of profit. 
A little estate I need not sell, 
A little garden, little table, 
A little wife that loves me well, 
For me have charms most delectable 5 
A little room, well warm’d, I hold 
The best defence against the cold; 
Delicacies always pass, 
*Mong other dishes, as a treat 5 
Full flavour’d wine in a little glass 5 
High season’d meats in a little plate. 
From this results (I hold it such) 
We never ought to have too much: 
This term, what sense within it liewt 
How comprehensive, and how wise! 
‘Tico much repose benumbs the sense 5 
Too much of noise bespeaks the vain’; 
Too much coldness, indolence ; 
Too much love disturbs the brain. 
Too much of secret poison lies 
Hid in too many remedies ; 
Too much cunning is of art; 
Too much,of rigor. must be cruel 5 
To spare too much, the miser’s part 5 
Boidness to the rash, is fuel. 
Too much of wealth has many cares 3 
Too much of wit has many snares 5 
Too much of honor makes aslave; 
Too much of pleasure finds a grave 5 
Too much trust brings loss in haste 3 
Too much freedom lays us waste ; 
Too much of goodness may be weak 5 
You much politeness does the fool bespeak. 
But too much may, if managed well, 
Our happiness and comfort swell 5 
Himself man rarely comprehends : 
- Upon a trifle al/ depends. 
A trifle is imporant, for 
its great effect will never fail, 
In love, in warfare, or in law, 
To saise the beam and twin the scale. 
What e’er we be, whate’er our state, 
A trifle drives us near the great; 
A trifle makes us beauty prize, 
Shows what Of talent in us lies ; 
A trifle more, a trifle less, 
To all our cares may give succeas 5 
A trifle fatters when we hope 
To trouble us Fear gives form and scope: 
Love! thy fire not long invites, 
A trifle quenches, for a trifle lights. 
foe a 
WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF A DRAWING € 
VIEW, THE GRUTLIN MATTE. 
N2 more, Helvetia, from thy vales 
Do Freedom’s songs extatic rise, 
But wafted on thy mountain gales, 
For freedom lost are heard the sighs, 
And see on yonder alpine height 
Jn pensive mood there take his stand, 
A Swiss, who by day’s parting light, _ 
Sighs as he glances o’er the land. 
Oft sailing past lov’d Gritlin’s shore, 
Warm’d with their deeds how throbi’d hig 
breast, 
When memory recall'd of yore 
The patriots who their country biest. 
Alas! ROW» midst these solemn at 
And o’er those sunny mountains’ sides, 
Ambition every scene invades, 
And France’s Monster Genius glides ; 
With fell destruction in his brain, 
By coward-numbers render’d bold; 
He stains with blood the peaceful plain 
Where murder tracks his search for gold. 
Oh spirits of the mighty dead ! 
Furst, Melchtahl, Staufacher, descend ; 5 
Over the lov’d Jand your influence shed, 
From tyrant fangs yeur country rend. 
On Griitlin’s heights take each your stand, 
From thence with more than mortal cry, 
Shout Freedom! to your native land, 
Till. Freedom ! hills, yales, shores, reply. 
From hills, vales, shores, assembling SeEy 
Ker blooming youth, her hardy sires; _ 
Recalling scenes of victory ; 
Griitlin ayes gallant bosom fres. 
Allon the margin of that stream, 
Zn firm array the warriors stand ; : 
While on their steely weapons elesnt 
The light now brightening o’er the land 
To seal the compact of the brave, 
In accents firm, with steady eye,’ 
Kesolv’d on victory or a grave, 
To soar beyond mortality. 
The startled tyrant to the height 
His timid scowling eye shall raise 3 
Appall’d at Freedom’s holy light, 
He'll sink beneath the mighty blaze, 
Bedford, N. 8. U, 
August 19, 1819, ; 
A HINT 
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