And in despite or all the swelling tide,
Along the dismal path will prove my guide.
Thus on the dusky verge of deep despair,
Eternal Providence was with me there;
When pleasure seemed to fade on life's gay dawn,
And the last beam of hope was almost gone.
TO THE GAD-FLY.
Majestic insect! from thy royal hum,
The flies retreat, or starve before they'll come,
The obedient plough-horse may, devoid of fear,
Perform his task with joy, when thou art near.
As at the Lion's dread alarming roar,
The inferior beasts will never wander more,
Lest unawares he should be seized away,
And to the prowling monster fall a prey,
With silent pleasure often do I trace
The fly upon the wing, with rapid pace,
The fugitive proclaims upon the wind,
The death-bound sheriff is not far behind.
Ye thirsty flies beware, nor dare approach,
Nor on the toiling animal encroach;
Be vigilant, before you buzz too late,
The victim of a melancholy fate.
