At length pale penury seiz'd the dame,
And fortune fled, and ruin came.

She found her riches at an end,
And that she had not made one friend.
All blam'd her for not giving more,
Nor thought on what she'd done before.
She wept, she rav'd, she tore her hair:
When lo! to comfort her, came Care;
And cried, "My dear, if you will join
Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine,
All will be well-you will have store,
And I be plagu'd with wealth no more.
Tho' I restrain your bounteous heart,
You still shall act the generous part."-
The bridal came, great was the feast,
And good the pudding and the priest.
The bride in nine moons brought him forth
A little maid of matchless worth :
Her face was mix'd of care and glee;
And she was nam'd Economy.

They styl'd her fair Discretion's queen,
The mistress of the golden mean,
Now Generosity confin'd,

Perfectly easy in her mind,

Still loves to give, yet knows to spare,
Nor wishes to be free from Care.

T

SMART.

SECTION XXV.

THE SWALLOWS.

ERE yellow autumn from our plains retir'd,
And gave to wint'ry storms the varied year,
The swallow race, with foresight clear inspir'd,
To southern climes prepar'd their course to steer.

On Damon's roof a grave assembly sate;

His roof, a refuge to the feather'd kind: With serious look he mark'd the nice debate, And to his Delia thus address'd his mind :

"Observe yon twit'ring flock, my gentle maid;

Observe and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n! With us thro' summer's genial reign they stay'd,

And food and lodging to their wants were giv'n.

But now, thro' sacred prescience, well they know
The near approach of elemental strife;

The blustry tempest and the chilly snow,
With ev'ry want and scourge of tender life.

Thus taught, they meditate a speedy flight;
For this, e'en now they prune their vig'rous wing ;
For this consult, advise, prepare, excite ;

And prove their strength in many an airy ring.

They feel a pow'r, an impulse all divine!

That warns them hence; they feel it and obey: To this direction all their cares resign,

Unknown their destin'd stage, unmark'd their way.

And does no pow'r its friendly aid dispense,
Nor give us tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence,
Beyond the stroke of death, the verge of time?

Yes, yes, the sacred oracles we hear,

That point the path to realms of endless day; That bid our hearts nor death, nor anguish fear: This, future transports; that, to life the way.

Then let us timely for our flight prepare,

And form the soul for her divine abode!
Obey the call and trust the leader's care,
To bring us safe thro' virtue's path to God.

Let no fond love for earth exact a sigh;
No doubts divert our steady steps aside;
Nor let us long to live, nor dread to die :

Heav'n is our hope, and Providence our guide.”

FINIS

JAGO