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A new selection of miscellaneous pieces, in verse cover

A new selection of miscellaneous pieces, in verse

Chapter 11: A LETTER
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About This Book

A compact volume of lyric and occasional verse alongside epistolary pieces that blend personal remembrance, devotional reflection, and social gratitude. The prefatory material frames poems composed across health struggles and domestic solitude; many pieces evoke childhood landscapes and rural detail, while others offer moral anecdotes, petitions, tributes to patrons, and metrical renderings of popular fragments. Songs and a longer metrical tale diversify the forms, and recurring themes of thankfulness, faith, physical affliction, and quiet resilience are rendered in plain, heartfelt language aiming for sincere expression rather than formal polish.

A LETTER

To my NEPHEW after he had been ill, then residing in Perth.


Dear G—— when you these lines receive,
Some lovely day like this,
Then of your guardian friends ask leave,
And if they answer, yes—
With bow of thanks accept the boon;
And then with playful glee,
And lightsome step, come here at noon,
To dine that day with me.
But if your guardians answer, no,
Without complaint submit;
What’s proper for you best they know,
And every way most fit.
Returning health, relations kind,
These blessings duly prize,
And with a glad, but humble mind,
Let grateful thoughts arise,
And trace them from a source divine,
Whence all our blessings flow,
Such feelings will your soul refine,
True happiness to know.
For in whatever state we are,
’Tis comfort still to feel,
We’re under his Almighty care,
Who orders all things well.
Supported by his Providence,
Preserved by his power,
Our hope is in Omnipotence,
Both now and evermore.
Nought of this hope can us deprive,
Unless, O wicked thought!
We ’gainst his tender mercies strive,
And set his love at nought.
Be then your youthful heart impress’d
With awe, nor so offend,—
But not with gloomy dread possess’d—
Your Maker is your friend.
When I beneath the sod lie pale,
O! may your days be spent,
Though ’lotted in life’s humble vale,
In pious calm content.
Now Spring with promis’d bounty crown’d,
Unlocks her lovely stores;
’Tis time to dress the spot of ground,
That shall be called yours.
When wint’ry storms retreat at last,
Afar to frozen seas;
Your seeds will spring and blossom fast,
And scent the summer breeze.
When flowers are beautiful to view,
Fields green, and fair the sky,
Then ask your friends to come with you,
These beauties to enjoy.—
Though eggs or milk should be their fare,
And bread of barley-meal,
With welcome, exercise, and air,
Such food will favour well.
Though no rich dainties them await,
Them though exertion tire,
The walk itself will be a treat,
And health I hope their hire.

POSTSCRIPT.
Here an acquaintance from the north,
A visit doth intend;
You oft’ experienc’d his worth,
He was the stranger’s friend.