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MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN.

DI RG E.

I.

WHEN chill November's furly blast

Made fields and forests bare,
One ev'ning, as I wand'red forth

Along the banks of Ayr,
I spy'd a man, whose aged step

Seem'd weary, worn with care;
His face was furrow'd o'er with years,

And hoary was his hair.

II.

Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou !

Began the rev'rend Sage ;,
Does thirst of wealth thy step conftrain,

Or youthful Pleasure's rage ?
Or haply, preft with cares and woes,

Too soon thou haft began
To wander forth, with me, 'to mourn

The miseries of man.

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The Sun that overhangs yon moors,

Out-spreading far and wide, Where hundreds labour to support

A haughty lordling's pride ; I've seen yon weary winter-fun Twice forty times return;

And ev'ry time has added proofs,

That Man was made to mourn.

IV.

O Man! while in thy early years,

How prodigal of time!
Mif-spending all thy precious hours,

Thy glorious youthful prime!
Alternate Follies take the sway;

Licentious Passions burn;
Which tenfold force gives Nature's law,

That man was made to mourn.

V.

Look not alone on youthful Prime,

Or Manhood's active might; Man then is useful to his kind,

Supported is his right!

But

But see him on the edge of life,

With cares and Sorrows, worn, Then Age and Want, Oh! ill-match'd pair!

Show Man was made to mourn.

VI.

A few seem favourites of Fate,

In Pleasure's lap carest;
Yet, think not all the Rich and Great

Are likewise truly blest.
But, Oh! what crowds in ev'ry land,

Are wretched and forlorn.
Thro' weary life this leffon learn,

That man was made to mourn.

VII.

Many and sharp the num'rous ills

Inwoven with our frame!

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More pointed ftill we make ourselves,

Regret, Remorse, and Shame!
And Man, whose heav'n-erected face

The smiles of love adorn,
Man's inhumanity to Man

Makes countless thousands mourn!

VIII.

See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,

So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth

To give him leave to toil; And fee his lordly fellow-worm

The poor Petition spurn, Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife

And helpless offspring mourn.

IX.

If I'm design'd yon lordling's flave,

By Nature's law delign'd,

Why

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