THE REFORMED MAN OF FASHION, TO HIS FRIEND.

Blest under that domestic roof
 I once contemptuous view'd,
 When gay and thoughtless like thyself
 I varied bliss pursued. 

The modest mansion, woods, and streams. 
Could then no peace afford
 To that lost heart which borrow'd hope
 From "seven's the main, my Lord." 

Reflection then was death to me,
 In vain I sigh'd for rest;
 It fled the dissipated scene,
 And the polluted breast;

Deep sunk in fashion's giddy round,
 Far lost in folly's maze,
 When a kind parent's anxious care
 Reform'd my erring ways;

The silent tear of fond regret
 Stood trembling in his eye;
 His meek, his unreproving voice
 Sunk in the pitying sigh,

Awoke that dormant filial spark
 Which still inform'd my soul,
 Soften'd that proud, ungovern'd heart
 Which never brook'd controul;

Led by his kind directing hand,
 I turn'd from error's way,
 And sought those guiltless, happy scenes,
 From which I ne'er can stray;

For charming Anna met my glance,
 Confess'd a mutual flame,
 Accepted vows which blest a heart
 With all a heart could claim. 

In her soft breast, where virtue dwelt,
 Where conscious honour shone,
 I view'd the blessings of a life,
 The constrast to my own. 

So pure her life, so fair her truth,
 To think, her sweet employ;
 To view the past, brought smiling peace,
 The future, hope and joy:

And now reflection chears my soul,
 And at the close of day,
 When conscience ev'ry deed approves,
 Emits a brighter ray. " 

Come then, my friend, and kindly share
 Our peaceful, frugal fare;
 'Twill soothe thy sorrowing heart to view
 The pleasures dwelling here

Meek mercy keeps our humble gate,
 The welcome's modest want;
 The poor and friendless bless the mite
 Our little store can grant. 

Far from ambition's shrine we live,
 Remote from pride and state;
 Our harmless wishes Heaven grants,
 And chears our humble fate. 

From happiness then who would rove,
 Possess'd of all that's fair? 
For I can call my home an heav'n,
 An angel dwelling there;

A little smiling, prattling race,
 Just opening into day;
 Their mother's purity and worth
 Their infant charms display;

To deck their minds with modest worth,
 Which time and death defies,
 To guide the slippery paths of youth,
 And train them for the skies. 

This is my Anna's chief delight,
 This is my glad employ;
 Her lovely daughters claim her care,
 And mine my blooming boy. 

Our hours by bounteous Heaven thus blest,
 We, at the close of day,
 With love, with gratitude, and truth,
 United homage pay.