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222 ANNUAL REGISTER Each duty there to [[?]] perfection wrought, That, if the Precepts fail'd, th' Example taught. W. WHITEHEAD, P. L. IMITATION of BUCHANAN WITH lusty Youth when I was bless'd, Thou, Poverty, each joy deny'd; And now, of boundless wealth possess'd, Decrepid Age awaits my side. When life's good things I could have shar'd, The means to share deny'd by Fate; And now, from nothing I'm debarr'd, How tasteless seems each wish'd-for state? A STANZA, on DEATH, by VOITURE, translated. DEATH, when in the fields of Mars, Stalking o're the blood-stain'd ground, With dreadful cries, and horrid wars, And noise and fury all around; Her near approach you little heed, When mounted on the fiery steed: But has she not a different mien, When by the solemn death-bed seen? When, fearful, trembling, pale and slow, She strikes the long expected blow. G. GREGORY. The PELICAN and the SPIDER: A Fable. THE sphere of mild, domestic life, A daughter, mother, mistress, wife, Who fills approv'd, shall life in story, And gain the height of female glory. To you, -believe an honest song- The charities of life belong; Those gentler offices, that bind The social ties of human kind: All praises, but for these, decry; And fame is blasting infamy. But chief, o're all, ye wiser fair, The mother's sacred charge revere,- Pure heart-ennobling, blest employ! Which Saints and Angels lean with joy 7 To For the YEAR 1772. 223 To view from heaven;- which can dispense O'er all the soul their own benevolence. Hail holy task!-' Tis thine t' impart More virtues to the melting hear:- Such heights of moral grace to reach As proud philosophy could never teach. Maternal love!- The iron-soul'd Melt at thy touch; the coward, bold Become at once; thro' rocks will force;- Nor flood, nor fire, can stop their course;- Will brave the Lybian lion wild, Should danger threat the favourite child. Is there, whom fashion, pride, or pleasure, Tempts to forget the living treasure?- Who to their own indulgence grants That care or cost her infant wants? What wonder should the sage insist She yields in Storge to a beast, The good abhor, the wits deride her, And read her history in the spider?- Who trusts her nursing to another. A parent she;- but not a mother. Beneath a venerable shade The pious pelican had made Her humble nest;- with rapture there Incessant ply'd the mother's care From night to morn, from morn to night, Not more her duty than delight, To watch the tender, chirping brood, Protect them, and provide their food At dewy eve, at morning's spring, Soft-canopy'd beneath her wing. They slept secure;- herself sustains, Patient, the cold and drenching rains; Nor felt nor fear'd the furious storm, her callow nestlings dry and warm. Whate're her early search supplies, Deny'd her own necessities, She gave her young, and prov'd from thence The luxury of abstinence. In vain the concert in the grove, In vain the wing'd assembly strove To tempt her from the nursery's care; Her music and her mirth were there. Thus liv'd she till, one fatal day, Doom'd all her virtues to display, What time the morning's wish'd supply eludes her utmost industry. She
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Reopened for Editing 2023-05-12 18:31:57