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The Works of Richard Owen Cambridge

Including several pieces never before published: with an account of his life and character, by his son, George Owen Cambridge

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How shall I feel, when Sol resigns his light
To this proud splendid goddess of the night!
Then, when her aukward guests in measure beat
The crouded floors, which groan beneath their feet!
What thoughts in solitude shall then possess
My tortur'd mind, or soften my distress!
Not all that envious malice can suggest
Will soothe the tumults of my raging breast.
(For envy's lost amidst the numerous train,
And hisses with her hundred snakes in vain)
Though with contempt each despicable soul
Singly I view,—I must revere the whole.
The methodist in her peculiar lot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot,
Though single happy, tho' alone is proud,
She thinks of heav'n (she thinks not of a crowd)
And if she ever feels a vap'rish qualm,
Some Drop of Honey, or some holy balm,
The pious prophet of her sect distils,
And her pure soul seraphic rapture fills;

294

Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring Whitf---d prompts her golden dreams.
 

The title of a book of devotion.