POETICAL PIECES.
PARAPHRASE OF PART OF THE BOOK OF AMOS.
I FROM no princely stock or lineage came,
My father bore no prophet's honour'd name,
Nor fame, nor power upheld his humble lot,
Nor wealth, nor splendour deck'd my native cot:
A shepherd's garment clad my youthful form,
Made rough by toil, and harden'd to the storm;
I led o'er hills and dales, wild streams and rocks,
The wand'ring footsteps of my herds and flocks.
I pointed where beneath the furrow sprung
The first, soft herbage, delicate and young;
I led them where the murm'ring waters wound
Their fruitful course, along the moisten'd ground;
And when the noontide sun with fervent heat,
Upon their drooping heads too fiercely beat,
I guided where the mountain's shelt'ring head,
