With thee I claim celestial birth,
A spark of Heaven's own ray;
Without thee sink to vilest earth,
Inanimated clay.

Now in this sad and dismal hour
Of multiply'd distress,
Has any former thought the pow'r
To make thy sorrows less?

When all around thee cruel snares
Threaten thy destin'd breath,
And every sharp reflection bears
Want, exile, chains, or death.

Can aught that past in youth's fond reign
Thy pleasing vein restore,
Lives beauty's gay and festive train
In memory's soft store?

Or does the Muse? 'Tis said her art
Can fiercest pangs appease;
Can she to thy poor trembling heart
Now speak the words of peace?

Yet she was wont at early dawn
To whisper thy repose,

Nor was her friendly aid withdrawy
At grateful evening's close.

Friendship, 'tis true, its sacred might,
May mitigate thy doom;

As lightning, shot across the night,
A moment gilds the gloom.

O God! thy providence alone
Can work a wonder here,

Cau change to gladness every moan,
And banish all my fear.

Thy arm, all-powerful to save,
May every doubt destroy;
And, from the horrours of the grave,
New raise to life and joy.

From this, as from a copious spring,
Pare consolation flows;

Makes the faint heart midst sufferings sing,

And midst despair repose.

Yet from its creature, gracious Heaven,
Most merciful and just,

Asks but, for life and safety given,

Our faith and humble trust,

THROUGH life's strange mystic paths how mankind
A contradiction still in all their ways; [strays!
In youth's gay bloom, in wealth's insulting hour,
As Heav'n all mercy was, they live secure;
Yet full of fears, and anxious doubts expire,
And in the awful judge forget the Sire.
Fair virtue then with faithful steps pursue,
Thy good deeds many, thy offences few;
That at the general doom thou may'st appear
With filial hope to soothe thy conscious fear;
Then to perpetual bliss expect to live,
Thy Saviour is thy judge, and may forgive.
VOL XV.

THE WISH.

IF join'd to make up virtue's glorious tale, A weak, but pious aid can aught avail, Each sacred study, each diviner page

That once inspir'd my youth, shall soothe my age.
Deaf to ambition, and to interest's call;
Honour my titles, and enough my all;

No pimp of pleasure, and no slave of state,
Serene from fools, and guiltless of the great,
Some calm and undisturb'd retreat I'll choose
Dear to myself and friends. Perhaps the Muse
May grant, while all my thoughts her charms em-
If not a future fame, a present joy,
[ploy,
Pure from each feverish hope, each weak desire;
Thoughts that improve, and slumbers that inspire,
A steadfast peace of mind, rais'd far above
The guilt of hate and weaknesses of love;
Studious of life, yet free from anxious care,
To others candid, to my self severe:
Filial, submissive to the Sovereign Will, ́
Glad of the good, and patient of the ill;
I'll work in narrow sphere what Heaven approves,
Abating hatreds, and increasing loves,

My friendship, stadies, pleasures, all my own,
Alike to envy and to fame unknown:

Such in some blest asylum let me lie,

Take of my fill of life, and wait, not wish to die.

PSALM LXV.

IMITATED.

THRICE happy he! whom thy paternal love Allows to tread the radiant courts above,

;

To range the climes where pure enjoyments grow, Where blessings spring, and endless pleasures flow: Awful in majesty thy glories shine, Thy mercy speaks its author all divine. Thy tender and amazing care is own'd, Where-e'er old Ocean walks his wavy round Those that explore the terrours of the majn, Embroit'd with storms, in search of paltry gain, Where tides encounter with tumultuous roar, Derive their safety from thy boundless pow'r: Within their stated mounds thy nod contains The lawless waves, where headlong tumult reigns; At thy despotic call the rebels cease, Sink to a smiling calm,—and all is peace. Those that inhabit Earth's remotest bound, Trembling survey thy terrours all around, When kindling meteors redden in the air, And shake thy judgments from their sanguine hair; At thy command fair blushes lead the day, And orient pearls glow from each tender spray, Night with her solemn gloom adores a God, And spreads her sable horrours at his nod, Whole nature cheerful owns her Maker's voice, Each creature smiles, and all his works rejoice. Thy bounty streams in soft descending showers, And wakens into bloom the drooping flowers; Pregnant on high thy cloudy cisterns move, And pour their genial treasures from above; Earth smiles, array'd in all her youthful charms, Her flowery infants ope their blushing arms, And kindling life each vernal blossom warms. Thus the glad year, with circling mercies crown'd, Enjoys thy goodness in an endless round. Whene'er thou smil'st, fresh beauties paint the And flowers awaken'd vegetate to birth. [Earth,

The dreary wilds, where no delights are found,
Where never spring adorn'd the sterile ground,
At thy command a pompous dress assume,
Fair roses glow, and opening lilies bloom:
Here verdant hills arise on every side,
And shoot their tops aloft with conscious pride;
There lowing herds adorn the fertile soil,
And crown with fleecy wool the shepherd's toil:
While tender lambs their infant voices raise,
And sweetly bleat th' Almighty Giver's praise.
Here loaded valleys smile with waving corn,
And golden prospects every field adorn;
They shout for joy, and lowly bending sing,
With sweet harmonious notes, their gracious King!

ODES.

ODE I.

TO FANCY.

FANCY, bright and winged maid!
In thy night-drawn car convey'd
O'er the green earth and wide-spread main,
A thousand shadows in thy train,
A varied air-embodied host,

To don what shapes thou pleasest most;
Brandish no more thy scorpion stings
Around the destin'd couch of kings;
Nor in Rebellion's ghastly size
A dire gigantic spectre rise:
Cease, for a while, in rooms of state
To damp the slumbers of the great;
In Merit's lean-look'd form t' appear,
And holla "traitor" in their ear:
Or Freedom's holier garb belie,
While Justice grinds her axe fast by:
Nor o'er the miser's eye-lids pour
The unrefreshing golden show'r;
Whilst, keen th' unreal bliss to feel,
His breast bedews the ruffian steel.

With these, (when next thou tak'st thy round)
The thoughts of guilty Pride confound:
These swell the horrours and affright
Of Conscience' keen condemning night.
For this (nor, gracious pow'r! repine)
A gentler ministry be thine:
Whate'er inspires the poet's theme,
Or lover's hope-enliven'd dream.
Monimia's mildest form assume;

Spread o'er thy cheeks her youthful bloom;
Unfold her eyes' unblemish'd rays,
That melt to virtue as we gaze;
That Envy's guiltiest wish disarm,
And view benign a kindred charm:
Call all the Graces from thy store,
Till thy creative pow'r be o'er;
Bid her each breathing sweet dispense,
And robe in her own innocence.

My wish is giv'n: the spells begin;
Th' ideal world awakes within;
The lonely void of still repose
Pregnant with some new wonder grows:
See, by the twilight of the skies,
The beauteous apparition rise;
Slow in Monimia's form, along
Glides to the harmony of song.

But who is he the virgin leads,
Whom high a flaming torch precedes,
In a gown of stainless lawn,
O'er each manly shoulder drawn?
Who, clad in robe of scarlet grain,
The boy that bears her flowing train?
Behind his back a quiver hung,
A bended bow across is flung;
His head and heels two wings unfold,
The azure feathers girt with gold :-
Hymen! 'tis he who kind inspires
Joys unfeign'd and chaste desires:
And thou, of love deceitful child!
With tiger-heart, yet lamb-like mild,
Fantastic by thyself, and vain,
But seemly seen in Hymen's train;
If Fate be to my wishes kind,
O! may I find you ever join'd;
But if the Fates my wish deny,
My humble roof come ye not nigh.

The spell works on: yet stop the day
While in the house of sleep I stay.
About me swells the sudden grove,
The woven arbourette of love;
Flow'rs spring unbidden o'er the ground,
And more than Nature plants around.
Fancy, prolong the kind repose;

Still, still th' enchanting vision glows;
And now I gaze o'er all her charms,
Now sink transported in her arms.
Oh sacred energy divine!

All these enraptur'd scenes are thine.
Hail! copious source of pure delight;
All hail! thou heaven-revealed rite;
Endearing Truth thy train attends,
And thou and meek-ey'd Peace are friends:
Closer entwine the magic bow'r;
Thick rain the rose-empurpled show'r:
The mystic joy impatient flies
Th' unhallow'd gaze of vulgar eyes.
Unenvied let the rich and great
Turmoil without, and parcel Fate,
Indulging here, in bliss supreme,
Might I enjoy the golden dream:
But, ah! the rapture must not stay;
For see! she glides, she glides away.

Oh Fancy why didst thou decoy
My thoughts into this dream of joy,
Then to forsake me all alone,
To mourn the fond delusion gone?
O! back again, benigu, restore
The pictur'd vision as before.
Yes, yes: once more I fold my eyes;
Arise, ye dear deceits, arise.
Ideas bland! where do ye rove?
Why fades my visionary grove?
Ye fickle troop of Morpheus' train,
Then will you, to the proud and vain,
From me, fantastic, wing your flight,
IT' adorn the dream of false delight?
But now, seen in Monimia's air,
Can you assume a form less fair,
Some idle beauty's wish supply,
The mimic triumphs of her eye?
Grant all to me this live-long night,
Let charms detain the rising light;
For this one night my liveries wear,
And I absolve you for the year.

What time your poppy-crowned god
Sends his truth-telling scouts abroad,

Ere yet the cock to matins rings,
And the lark, with mounting wings,
The simple village-swain has warn'd
To shake off sleep, by labour earn'd;
Or on the rose's silken hem,
Aurora weeps her earliest gem;
Or, beneath the opening dawn,
Smiles the fair-extended lawn.
When in the soft encircled shade
Ye find reclin'd the gentle maid,
Each busy motion laid to rest,
And all compos'd her peaceful breast:
Swift paint the fair internal scene,
The phantom labours of your reign;
The living imagery adorn

With all the limnings of the morn,
With all the treasures Nature keeps
Conceal'd below the forming deeps;
Or dress'd in the rich waving pride,
That covers the green mountain's side,
Or blooms beneath the amorous gale
In the wide-embosom'd vale.
Let powerful Music too essay
The magic of her hidden lay:

While each harsh thought away shall fly
Down the full stream of harmony,
Compassion mild shall fill their place,
Each gentle minister of grace,
Pity that often melts to love,
Let weeping Pity kind improve
The soften'd heart, prepar'd to take
Whate'er impressions Love shall make,
Oh! in that kind, that sacred hour,
When Hate, when Anger have no pow'r;
When sighing Love, mild simple boy,
Courtship sweet, and tender joy,
Alone possess the fair-one's heart;
Let me then, Fancy, bear my part,

Oh goddess! how I long t' appear;
The hour of dear success draws near:
See where the crowding Shadows wait;
Haste and unfold the ivory gate:
Ye gracious forms, employ your aid,
Come in my anxious look array'd,
Come Love, come Hymen, at my pray'r
Led by blithe Hope, ye decent pair
By mutual confidence combin'd,
As erst in sleep I saw you join'd.
Fill my eyes with heart-swell'd tears,
Fill my breast with heart-born fears,
Half-utter'd vows and half suppress'd,
Part look'd and only wish'd the rest;
Make sighs, and speaking sorrows prove,
Suffering much, how much I love;
Make the Muses' lyre complain,
Strung by me in warbled strain;
Let the melodious numbers flow
Powerful of a lover's woe,
Till by the tender Orphean art,

I through her ear should gain her heart.
Now, Fancy, now the fit is o'er;

I feel my sorrows vex no more:
But when condemn'd again to mourn,
Fancy, to my aid return.

ODE II.

BEGONE, pursuits so vain and light; Knowlege, fruitless of delight;

Lean Study, sire of sallow Doubt,
I put thy musing taper out:
Fantastic all, a long adieu;
For what has love to do with you?
For, lo, I go where Beauty fires,
To satisfy my soul's desires;
For, lo, I seek the sacred walls
Where Love, and gentle Beauty, calls:
For me she has adorn'd the room,
For me has shed a rich perfume:
Has she not prepar'd the tea?
The kettle boils-she waits for me.
I come, nor single, but along
Youthful Sports a jolly throng!
Thoughtless joke, and infant wiles;
Harmless wit, and virgin smiles;
Tender words, and kind intent;
Languish fond, and blandishment;
Yielding curtsy, whisper low;
Silken blush, with cheeks that glow;
Chaste desires, and wishes meet;
Thin clad Hope, a foot-man fleet;
Modesty, that turns aside,

And backward strives her form to hide;
Healthful Mirth, still gay and young,
And Meekness with a maiden's tongue;
Satire, by good humour dress'd
In a many-colour'd vest:

And enter leaning at the door,

Who send'st thy flaunting page before,
The roguish boy of kind delight,
Attendant on the lover's night,
Fair his ivory shuttle flies

Through the bright threads of mingling dyes,
As swift his rosy fingers move

To knit the silken cords of love;
And stop who softly-stealing goes
Occasion high on her tiptoes,

Whom youth with watchful look espies,
To seize the forelock ere she flies,
Ere he her bald pate shall survey,
And well-plied heels to run away.

But, anxious Care, be far from hence;
Vain surmise, and alter'd sense;
Misshapen doubts, the woes they bring;
And Jealousy, of fiercest sting;
Despair, that solitary stands,
And wrings a halter in his hands;
Flattery, false and hollow found,

And Dread, with eye still looking round;
Avarice, bending under pelf:
Conceit, still gazing on herself:
O Love! exclude high-crested Pride,
Nymph of Amazonian stride:

Nor in these walls, like waiting-maid,
Be Curiosity survey'd,

That to the key-hole lays her ear,
Listening at the door to hear;
Nor father Time, unless he's found
In triumph led by Beauty bound,
Fore'd to yield to Vigour's stroke,
His blunted scythe and hour-glass broke.
But come, all ye who know to please;
Inviting glance, and downy ease;
The heart-born joy, the gentle care;
Soft-breathed wish, and pow'r of prayer ;
The simple vow, that means no ill;
Believing Quiet, submissive Will;
Constancy of meekest mind,

That suffers long, and still is kind,

Now Spring begins her smiling round,
Lavish to paint th' enamell'd ground;
The birds exalt their cheerful voice,
And gay on every bough rejoice.
The lovely Graces, hand in hand,
Knit in Love's eternal band,
With dancing step at early dawn,
Tread lightly o'er the dewy lawn.
Where'er the youthful sisters move,
They fire the soul to genial love.
Now, by the river's painted side,
The swain delights his country bride,
While, pleas'd, she hears his artless vows:
Above the feather'd songster wooes.
Soon will the ripen'd Summer yield
Her various gifts to every field;
Soon fruitful trees, a beauteous show,
With ruby-tinctur'd births shall glow;
Sweet smells, from beds of lilies borne,
Perfume the breezes of the morn.
The sunny day, and dewy night,
To rural play my fair invite;
Soft on a bank of violets laid,
Cool she enjoys the evening shade;
The sweets of Summer feast her eye,
Yet soon, soon will the Summer fly.
Attend, my lovely maid, and know
To profit by the moral show:

Now young and blooming thou art seen,
Fresh on the stalk, for ever green;
Now does th' unfolded bud disclose
Full blown to sight the blushing rose:
Yet, once the sunny season past,
Think not the coz'ning scene will last;
Let not the flatterer Hope persuade:
Ah! must I say that this will fade?
For see the Summer posts away,
Sad emblem of our own decay.
Now Winter, from the frozen north,
Drives his iron chariot forth:
His grisly hand in icy chains

HOR,

Fair Tweda's silver flood constrains:
Cast up thy eyes, how bleak and bare
He wanders on the tops of Yare!
Behold his footsteps dire are seen
Confess'd on many a withering green.
Griev'd at the sight, when thou shalt see
A snowy wreath clothe every tree,
Frequenting now the stream no more,
Thou fly'st, displeas'd, the barren shore.
When thou shalt miss the flowers that grew
But late to charm thy ravish'd view,

"Shall I, ah horrid !" wilt thou say, "Be like to this another day?"

Yet, when in snow and dreary frost
The pleasure of the field is lost,
To blazing hearths at home we run,
And fires supply the distant Sun;
In gay delights our hours employ,
We do not lose but change our joy;
Happy abandon every care,

To lead the dance, to court the fair,
To turn the page of ancient bards,
To drain the bowl, and deal the cards.
But when the beauteous white and red
From the pale ashy cheek is fled;
When wrinkles dire, and age severe,
Make beauty fly we know not where:
The fair whom Fates unkind disarm,
Have they for ever ceas'd to charm?
Or is there left some pleasing art,
To keep secure a captive heart?

"Unhappy Love!" might lovers say, Beauty, thy food, does swift decay; When once that short-liv'd stock is spent, What art thy famine can prevent? Virtues prepare with early care, That Love may live on Wisdom's fare; Though Ecstacy with Beauty flies, Esteem is born when Beauty dies. Happy to whom the Fates decree The gift of Heav'n in giving thee: Thy beauty shall his youth engage; Thy virtues shall delight his age."

ODE IV.

ON THE NEW YEAR. 1739. JANUS, who, with sliding pace, Run'st a never-ending race, And driv'st about, in prone career, The whirling circle of the year, Kindly indulge a little stay, I beg but one swift hour's delay. O! while th' important minutes wait, Let me revolve the books of fate; See what the coming year intends To me, my country, kind and friends. Then may'st thou wing thy flight, and go, To scatter blindly joys and woe; Spread dire disease, or purest health, And, as thou list'st, grant place or wealth. This hour, withheld by potent charms, Ev'n Peace shall sleep in Pow'r's mad arms; Kings feel their inward torments less, And for a moment wish to bless.

Life now presents another scene,

The same strange farce to act again;
Again the weary human play'rs
Advance, and take their several shares:
Clodius riots, Cæsar fights,
Tully pleads, and Maro writes,
Ammon's fierce son controls the globe,
And Harlequin diverts the mob.

To Time's dark cave the year retreats,
These hoary unfrequented seats;
There from his loaded wing he lays

The months, the minutes, hours and days;
Then flies, the Seasons in his train,
To compass round the year again.

See there, in various heaps combin'd, The vast designs of human-kind; Whatever swell'd the statesman's thought, The mischiefs mad ambition wrought, Public revenge and hidden guilt, The blood by secret murder spilt, Friendships to sordid interest given,

And ill-match'd hearts, ne'er pair'd in Heaven;
What Avarice, to crown his store,
Stole from the orphan, and the poor;
Or Luxury's more shameful waste,
Squander'd on th' unthankful feast.
Ye kings, and guilty great, draw near;
Before this awful court appear:
Bare to the Muse's piercing eye
The secrets of all mortals lie;
She, strict avenger, brings to light
Your crimes conceal'd in darkest night;
As Conscience, to her trust most true,
Shall judge between th' oppress'd and you
This casket shows, ye wretched train,
How often Merit sued in vain.
See, there, undry'd, the widow's tears;
See, there, unsooth'd the orphan's fears:
Yet, look, what mighty sums appear,
The vile profusion of the year.
Could'st thou not, impious Greatness, give
The smallest alms, that Want might live?
And yet, how many a large repast
Pall'd the rich glutton's sickly taste!
One table's vain intemperate load,
With ambush'd death, and sickness strow'd
Had blest the cottage' peaceful shade,
And given its children health and bread:
The rustic sire, and faithful spouse,
With each dear pledge of honest vows,
Had, at the sober-tasted meal,
Repeated oft the grateful tale;
Had hymn'd, in native language free,
The song of thanks to Heaven and thee;
A music that the great ne'er hear,
Yet sweeter to th' internal ear
Than any soft seducing note

E'er thrill'd from Farinelli's throat.

Let's still search on This bundle's large.
What's here? 'Tis Science' plaintive charge.
Hear Wisdom's philosophic sigh,
(Neglected all her treasures lie)

That none her secret haunts explore,
To learn what Plato taught before;
Her sons seduc'd to turn their parts
To Flattery's more thriving arts;
Refine their better sense away
And join Corruption's flag, for pay.
See his reward the gamester share,
Who painted moral Virtue fair;
Inspir'd the minds of generous youth
To love the simple mistress Truth;
The patriot path distinctly show'd,
That Rome and Greece to glory trode;
That self-applause is noblest fame,
And kings may greatness link to shame,
While honesty is no disgrace,

And Peace can smile without a place.
Hear too Astronomy repine,

Who taught unnumber'd worlds to shine;
Who travels boundless ether through,
And brings the distant orbs to view.
Can she her broken glass repair,
Though Av'rice has her all to spare?

What mighty secrets had been found,
Was Virtue mistress of five pound?
Yet see where, given to Wealth and Pride,
A bulky pension lies beside.

Avaunt then, Riches; no delay;

I spurn th' ignoble heaps away.
What though your charms can purchase all
The giddy honours of this ball;
Make Nature's germans all divide,
And haughty peers renounce their pride;
Can buy proud Flavia's sordid smile,
Or ripe for fate, this destin'd isle.
Though Greatness condescends to pray,
Will Time indulge one hour's delay,
Or give the wretch intent on pelf,
One moment's credit with himself?
Virtue, that true from false discerns,
The vulgar courtly phrase unlearns,
Superior far to Fortune's frown,
Bestows alone the stable crown,
The wreath from honour's root that springs,
That fades upon the brows of kings.

"But late, forlorn, dejected, pale,

A prey to each insulting foe;

I saught the grove and gloomy vale,
To vent in solitude my woe;

Now to my hand the balance fair restor❜d;
Once more I wield on high the imperial sword:

"What arm has this deliverance wrought?
'Tis he! the gallant youth appears;

O warm in fields, and cool in thought!
Beyond the slow advance of years!

Haste, let me, rescued now from future harms,
Strain close the filial virtue in my arms.