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And there the fox securely feeds,
And see the rivers how they run Through woods and meads, in shade and sun! Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life to endless sleep! Thus is nature's vesture wrought, To instruct our wandering thought; Thus she dresses green
gay, To disperse our cares away.
Ever charming, ever new,
See on the mountain's southern side,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
O may I with myself agree,
Born (probably) 1707-Died 1788. COTTON was a physician, remarkable for his success and humanity in the treatment of mental disorders.
He kept an asylum for insane patients in the town of St. Albans, and called it the College Cowper was for some time under his care. Few particulars of his life have been preserved, but there are many testimonies to the excellence of his character. Among these is the following affectionate tribute to his memory from one of the letters of Cowper. “I reckon it one instance of the Providence that has attended me throughout this whole event, that instead of being delivered into the hands of one of the London physicians, who were so much nearer that I wonder I was not, I was carried to Dr. Cotton.
I was not only treated by him with the greatest tenderness while I was ill, and with the utmost diligence, but when my reason was restored to me, and I had so much need of a religious friend to converse with, to whom I could open my mind upon the subject without reserve, I could hardly have found a fitter person for the purpose. My eagerness and anxiety to settle my opinions on that long neglected point made it necessary that while my mind was yet weak, and my spirits uncertain, I should have some assistance. The Doctor was as ready to administer relief to me in this article likewise, and as well qualified to do it, as in that which was more immediately his province. How many physicians would have thought this an irregular appetite and a symptom of remaining madness! But if it were so, my friend was as mad as myself, and it is well for me that he was so.”
Mr Hayley observes of Dr. Cotton, that he was “a scholar and a poet, who to many accomplishments added a peculiar sweetness of manners in very advanced life.”
His writings do not display an original genius, but are full of good sense, benevolence, and piety. The Fireside is a beautiful domestic picture.
Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd,
In folly's maze advance;
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world we'll oft retire
Where love our hours employs;
To spoil our heartfelt joys.
If solid happiness we prize,
And they are fools who roam;
And that dear hut-our home.
Of rest was Noah's dove bereft,
That safe retreat, the ark;
Explor'd the sacred bark.
By sweet experience know,
A paradise below!
Our babes shall richest comforts bring ;
Whence pleasures ever rise:
And train them for the skies.
While they our wisest hours engage,
And crown our hoary hairs;
And recompense our cares.
No borrow'd joys! they're all our own, While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot: Monarchs! we envy not your state, We look with pity on the great,
And bless our humble lot.
Our portion is not large, indeed,
For Nature's calls are few!
And make that little do.
We'll therefore relish with content
Nor aim beyond our power; For, if our stock be very small, 'T is prudence to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour,
To be resign'd when ills betide,
And pleas'd with favours given:
Whose fragrance smells to Heaven. We'll ask no long-protracted treat, Since winter-life is seldom sweet;
But, when our feast is o'er, Grateful from table we'll arise, Nor grudgc our sons, with envious eyes,
The relics of our store.
Thus hand in hand through life we'll go; Its chequer'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread; Quit its vain scenes without a tear, Without a trouble or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
While conscience, like a faithful friend,
And cheer our dying breath ;
And smooth the bed of death.
Born 1709–Died 1779. ARMSTRONG was a physician. He published many prose and poetical miscellanies, though none of them display either the fire of genius or the elevation of pure moral sentiment, and his literary fame rests almost exclusively upon his Art if Preserving Health.
This poem has given him deserved celebrity. He is original, both in the choice of his subject and the manner of treating it. His moral associations are dignified and sometimes sublime, and his versification, though it wants strength and nervous harmony, is yet free from harshness, and is uniform in its flow.
“On the whole,” says Campbell, “ he is likely to be remembered as a poet of judicious thoughts and correct expression ; and, as far as the rarely successful application of verse to subjects of science can be admired, an additional merit must be ascribed to the hand, which has reared poetical flowers on the dry and difficult ground of philosophy.”
BENIFIT OF AN AIRY SITUATION.
MEANTIME, the moist malignity to shun