Thomson and Pollok: containing The seasons, by James Thomson, and The course of time, by Robert Pollok, A. M.

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THE COURSE OF TIME.

1Nor men absolved, and sanctified, and washect
By mercy from the consequence, nor yet
Forgetfulness, nor God imputing not,
Can wash the guilty deed, once done, from out
The faithful annals of the past: who reads,
And many read, there finds it, as it was,
And is, and shall for ever be,-a dark,
Unnatural, and loathly moral spot.
The span of Time was short, indeed; and now
Three-fourths were past, the last begun, and on
Careering to its close, which soon we sing.
But first our promise we redeem, to tell
The joys of Time, her joys of native growth;
And briefly must, what longer tale deserves.
Wake, dear remembrances! wake, childhooddays!
Loves, friendships, wake! and wake, thou morn and
even!
Sun! with thy orient locks; night, moon, and stars!
And thou, celestial bow! and all ye woods,
And hills, and vales, first trod in dawning life,
And hours of holy musing, wake! wake, earth
And, smiling to remembrance, come, and bring,
For thou canst bring, meet argument for song
Of heavenly harp, meet hearing for the ear
Of heavenly auditor, exalted high.
God gave much peace on earth, much holy joy;
Oped fountains of perennial spring, whence flowed
Abundant happiness to all who wished
To drink; not perfect bliss;-that dwells with us,
Beneath the eyelids of the Eternal One,
And sits at his right hand alone;-but such
As well deserved the name, abundant joy;