ON THE ANNUAL BILL OF MORTALITY.
Vitæ summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam. Hor.
AGAIN we look with fearful eye
On Death's continued page;
Again with falling tears descry
The fall of youth and age.
One ere the blossom can unfold,
The blossom sweet and fair,
Just peeps-perceives the Seasons cold,
And shuns th' inclement air.
Another, like the spreading Oak,
Expands his branches round,
Nor dreads the unexpected stroke
That fells him to the ground.
In virtue firm, a few take root;
(But, ah! how few are they!)
Then drop like fine well-cultur'd fruit,
Delicious in decay.
When Man at first receiv'd his breath,
And from the dust arose,
Saw spread before him Life and Death,
Alas! how ill he chose.
But blame not Adam-still do we
Choose just as Adam chose:
Eternal glory though we see,
We take eternal woes!
We hear the voice of God from high,
And Conscience call within;
We see a bleeding Saviour die,
Yet sink confirm'd in sin!
As the tree falls, so must it lie,
And under foot be trod:
Impure and filthy if we die,
Can we behold our God?
Each year the numbers I recount;
O may they joyful rise!
Drink life from God's eternal fount,
And flourish in the skies.
Northampton, Dec. 31.
INDEX to the PLATES in VOL. LXXIX. PART II.