Their masonry imperishable. All Life's needful functions, food, exertion, reft, Were overruled to carry on the process, Compared with this amazing edifice, The Pyramids would be mere pinnacles, The giant ftatues wrought from rocks of granite, But puny ornaments for fuch a pile As this ftupendous mound of catacombs, Filled with dry mummies of the builder, worms. JAMES MONTGOMERY. XXX. THE MOLE HILL. ELL me, thou duft beneath my feet, By wafting winds and flooding rains, The mole that scoops, with curious toil, Thinks not fhe ploughs fo rich a foil, But oh where'er fhe turns the ground, Once every atom of this mound Lived, breathed, and felt like me. Like me, these elder-born of clay And went to rest at night. Methinks this duft yet heaves with breath, Ten thousand pulfes beat; Tell me, in this fmall hill of death, How many mortals meet? JAMES MONTGOMERY. XXXI. THE RAIN DROP. HAT if each drop of rain fhould plead, W Can ne'er refresh the thirsty glebe; What if each little ray at noon Should in its fountain stay; Doth not each rain-drop help to form The cool refreshing shower; And every ray of light to warm And beautify the flower? XXXII THE FALLING LEAF. EE! the leaves around us falling, "Sons of Adam (once in Eden Youth, on length of days prefuming, Who the paths of pleasure tread, View us late in beauty blooming, Numbered now among the dead. "What though yet no loffes grieve you, Gay with health and many a grace; Let not cloudless skies deceive you, Summer gives to autumn place. "Yearly in our courfe returning, Thus we preach this truth concerning, "On the tree of life eternal, Oh let all our hopes be laid! This alone, for ever vernal, Bears a leaf that fhall not fade." BISHOP HORne. XXXIII. THE LAST MAN IN SIR JOHN FRANK LIN'S EXPEDITION. I. HEY have fallen one by one; To track this weary way; I can never attain the fea! A waif on this defolate fhore ; Cold, Cold, Cold, But mine hour is not yet told! |