University of Virginia Library

POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

A Morning ODE.

On the Nativity of our BLESSED SAVIOUR.

In yearly Strains our laurell'd Poets sing,
And celebrate the Birth-days of the King,
The crowding Peers their constant Homage pay,
And hail the Monarch on his natal Day.
When George was born is told his Realms around,
Men, Bells and Guns proclaim the joyful Sound;
To earthly Kings be such due Honours giv'n,
But nobler far should wait the Lord of Heav'n,
Not a few scanty Realms should sing his Praise,
But the whole World one sacred Anthem raise,
Let Seraphs come to swell the Concert higher,
And add to ours their own celestial Choir,
Let all unite on this auspicious Morn
And carol loud—the Great Messiah's born.

On Friendship.

Friendship is Love from all its Dross refin'd
The chaste Enjoyment of th'immortal Mind:
A Passion warm, benevolent, sincere,
'Tis such as Angels do to Angels bear.
Unmix'd with wanton Thoughts and loose Desires,
The purer Flame to nobler Heights aspires;
To ease the Bosom that is deep distress'd,
And raise the Transport of the joyful Breast;
This Gift Divine the Pow'r supreme bestows,
To aid our joys and dissipate our Woes:
To make the chearful Hours of Life more gay,
And drive the melancholy Shades away.

To Miss H--- on her Marriage with Captain J---.

PSALM XXV.

An Answer to an Epistle sent me by a Gentleman on the Death of his Father.

Thou whose sad Lines a Father's Death bewail,
Who call'st on me to aid the tragic Tale;
Thy moving Sorrows are not ill address'd,
Since native Pity melts the Female Breast;
With just Regard I read thy mournful Strains,
And sympathizing, feel the Mourner's Pains:
'Tis sacred Grief, 'tis beautiful Distress,
Yet think, my Friend, there's Error, in Excess;
When Death at first in all his dread Array,
Divides the conscious Soul from lifeless Clay,
When a lov'd Parent feels the parting Blow,
'Tis Height of Anguish all, and Rage of Woe!
Not all the Force of Language unconfin'd,
Can then appease the deep-afflicted Mind.
But this is Nature's Triumph for a Day,
The Interval when Reason quits her Sway;
She, mild, returning wisely will impart,
Serener Dictates to the tortur'd Heart,
And kindly would afford a calm Relief,
Did we not shun her, and caress our Grief;
This thou hast done devoted to Despair,
Forsook Society, and nourished Care,
Try'd ev'ry Way thy Sorrows to improve,
Wander'd alone, and sought the gloomy Grove,
Where Sighs may breathe, and Tears may freely flow,
For Solitude, is still the Nurse of Woe;
In silent Shades sad Melancholy reigns,
But too indulgent to the Mourner's Pains;
Reflection there supplies the parted View,
And keeps the fatal Vision ever new:
Fly these lone Haunts, to friendly Domes repair,
And social Converse shall divert thy Care:
But if this moving Image of Distress,
A Father's Death thy rising Soul depress,
Revolve the Virtues which he once possess'd,
And think those Virtues now have made him blest.
But chiefly let my Friendship here perswade,
Which bids thee call Religion to thy Aid,
Her Dictates shall thy ev'ry Loss repair,
The friendly Counsel, and paternal Care,
For ever station'd in the pious Breast,
Wisdom shall reign, and true Contentment rest.

On hearing a Sermon preached by the Reverend Mr ---.

Could all like him the sacred Gospel preach,
And heav'nly Truths in heav'nly Language teach,
Display the Scriptures in so clear a View,
And urge the Precept by Example too,
No more the slighted Clergy wou'd complain,
They labour for the good of Souls in vain:
Religion would in native Lustre shine,
The Priest and Office both esteem'd Divine:
For when by Him the Christian Duty's taught,
There is no Leisure for a wand'ring Thought,
As from his Tongue the sweet Instruction flows,
Each ardent Mind in ev'ry Virtue grows.

PSALM XLII.

My Love describ'd to CAMILLA.

To the same on her telling me a very acceptable piece of News.

An EPISTLE to ---

A Second Epistle to the Same.

The Rose and other Flowers, a Tale; inscribed to a young Lady.

The ATOM and WASP; or Pride mortified.

On a FOUNTAIN.

Casim. Lib. Epod. Od. 2.

Casim. Lib. i. Ode 2.

To SILVIO.

On his Marriage.

The various Pursuits of Mankind.

Hor. B. i. Ode I.

To MÆCÆNAS.

SPRING.

A Pastoral.

Colin.
Myrtillo, dearest Friend, and chiefly known,
For Sense and Piety thro' all our Town;
How gracious is the God whose Providence,
From fiery Beams has spread this green Defence,
And gives us this refreshing Breeze to play,
Along the curling Grass, and cool the Day!

Myrtillo.
Colin where'er we turn our wand'ring Eyes,
The Proofs of an Almighty Ruler rise,
From yonder Sun that shines so fiercely bright,
To the least Fly that almost scapes the Sight:
The Foot-steps of his Skill and Pow'r appear,
Thro' all the Seasons of the changing Year;
But Spring with a peculiar Glory shows,
Our God, and with his boundless Image glows.

Colin.
Then let us since the Sun now fires the Noon,
And the Flocks browze along the flow'ry Down;
Take each an Oaten Reed, and try to sing,
The great Creator, and Almighty King;
So shall our Hours past-by look back again,
With Smiles of Pleasure, nor of Guilt complain.

Myrtillo.
Well I approve the Thought, rejoic'd to find,
That so much Piety inspires your Mind:
How fit and sweet a Work is heav'nly Praise,
That from itself its own Devotion pays?
But as you first propos'd 'tis yours to lead,
Begin, and I in Turns will touch my Reed.

Colin.
Begin my Pipe, begin the lofty Verse,
And the Almighty's wond'rous Works rehearse.
The Maker's Word produc'd the Firmament,
Stain'd it with Blue, and stretch'd its vast extent;
There the Sun rolls by Day its Ball of Light,
There the Moon fills her Silver Horns by Night;
And round their Queen in silent Order move
Unnumber'd Stars, and fire the Vault above.

Myrtillo.
Renew my Pipe, renew the lofty Verse,
And the Almighty's wond'rous Works rehearse.
What Wonders in the Air may we survey?
There Thunders roll, and rapid Light'nings play;
There Whirlwinds roar, and with resistless Force,
Tear down the Harvests in their furious Course:
Hence Rain in over-whelming Torrents pours,
And hence the Hail descends in stony Show'rs;
And hence the Snow that, in bleak Winter's reign,
With hoary Spangles cloaths the Trees and Plain.

Colin.
Begin my Pipe, begin the lofty Verse,
And the Almighty's wond'rous Works rehearse.
From Air the Dews in hazy Fogs distil,
Which lightly touches on the thirsty Hill;
And thence in dusky Eddies wheel'd around,
Weeps o'er the Grove, and glides along the Ground.
Hence the Carnation takes its lovely Red;
Hence the tall Lilly lifts its snowy Head;
Hence Purple Bloom the Violets unfold;
Hence Cowslips wash their op'ning Buds in Gold;
Hence glows the Beauty, hence the Odour flows,
Fresh from the Bosom of the Virgin Rose;
And hence the precious Sweets the Bees derive,
From springing Flow'rs, t'enrich their common Hive.

Myrtillo.
Renew my Pipe, renew the lofty Verse,
And the Almighty's wond'rous Works rehearse.
And as in Heav'n, so through the Earth below,
The narrow Scenes their Maker's Glories show;
Here the broad River rolls its sounding Course,
Its Depths how dang'rous, and how wild its Force!
And here the Fountain's scanty Waters glide,
And as they run the jarring Pebbles chide;
Now hung with Shades steal unperceiv'd away;
Now shine and quiver in the Blaze of Day.

Colin.
Begin my Pipe, begin the lofty Verse,
And the Almighty's wond'rous Works rehearse.
There Mountains of un-measur'd Bulk arise,
And with their awful Tops support the Skies;
Humbly behind their wide-extended Gloom,
The Hills appear content with narrow Room;
The Hills that Crops of various Plenty bear,
And here with Grass, and here with Corn appear;
And from whose sloping Side I oft have seen,
My Sheep depending, crop the living Green.

Myrtillo.

CATULLUS to LESBIA.

My Lesbia swears she would Catullus wed,
Tho' Jove himself should come and ask her Bed:
True, this she swears by all the Pow'rs above,
But she's a Woman talking to her Love;
That single Thought my growing Faith defeats,
'Tis necessary for them to be Cheats:
They must be false, they must their Oaths forget,
So pleasing is the Lechery of Deceit:
What Women tell their Servants fade like Dreams,
And should be Wrote in Air, or running Streams.

An Imitation of the foregoing Verses, by way of Reply.

My Strephon swears to me eternal Truth,
Though Beauty's tempting Queen should court the Youth;
By ev'ry Pow'r he swears to be my Spouse,
But he's a Man, and these are am'rous Vows;
That one Reflection must my Hopes deface,
'Tis dear Variety that charms the Race.
They will be false, alas they love to range,
So great's the Joy, so sweet it is to change;
What Men protest in heat of Love we find,
Like fleeting Tides, or like the veering Wind.

Wrote immediately upon seeing the Behaviour of a Jealous Husband.

Of all the Plagues with which poor Wives are curst,
The Dæmon Jealousy is far the worst;
When once this Fury haunts a Husband's Brain,
He grows enrag'd, and Virtue pleads in vain,
Although by Nature gentle, kind, and good,
He strait turns Savage, insolent and rude;
Not all the Charms of Innocence and Truth,
Not Beauty blooming in the Pride of Youth;
Combin'd with Affluence and sincerest Love,
His stubborn Heart to due Returns can move:
Of these enchanting Treasures full possest,
The thankless Owner yet remains unblest;
For self-deceiv'd he thinks he meets Deceit,
Ev'n Demonstration seems to him a Cheat.

An EPIGRAM on a Person who constantly drinks a Dram when he goes to Prayers.

In all religious Duties we want Aid,
And for our help religious Books were made;
Whose sacred Leaves with useful Precepts fraught,
Were once, by all, the best Assistants thought:
But be it spoke to Tom's immortal Praise,
Tom without Books his Piety can raise;
He gravely thinks 'tis much a better Way,
To take a hearty Dram before we pray.
If his Addresses he in Public makes,
A glowing Dose he, never-failing takes;
If to his private Closet he retires,
The friendly Juice his fervent Zeal inspires;
'Tis wisely done, for who dare be so bold,
To say that Tom is in Devotion cold.

Verses sent by a Gentleman to the Author, desiring an Answer.

Wise Heav'n, in Pity to the Sex, design'd
Fools, for the last Relief of Womankind;
Two marry'd Wits no quiet can enjoy,
Two Fools together would the House destroy:
But Providence, to level Human Life,
Made the fool Husband for the witty Wife.

To the Gentleman who sent the above Verses.

Fools are so plenty in your Sex we find,
They often prove the Lot of Womankind;
Too often plague the Witty and the Wise,
For those who are not Fools, will Fools despise:
But when two kindred Souls together meet,
The Yoke is easy, and the Bondage sweet;
Each has a Charm which shines to either bright,
And Wit to Wit gives, mutually, Delight.

An EXTEMPORE THOUGHT.

What's a dull insipid Life,
Or one perplex'd with Care and Strife?
Always blithe, serene and gay,
Wou'd I wear my Hours away:
Never stormy, never sad,
Easy, innocent and glad;
Pleas'd with what the Heav'ns ordain,
Free from Sickness, Care, and Pain:
Friend to Joy, and Foe to Sorrow,
Careless to Day what haps To-morrow.

Return'd in Answer to a poetical Compliment from Miss ---

From the poetic Hill or Shade,
Or where you please, dear tuneful Maid;
These Lines to thee Maria sends,
To thee, her best of earthly Friends:
Pleas'd with your Love, proud of your Praise,
And grac'd by your harmonious Lays;
She wears upon her honour'd Brow,
The darling Glories you bestow:
And since you've made her so divine,
An early Visit shall be thine;
She'll come in all her Radiance dress'd;
Prepare for your celestial Guest,
Ambrosial Cakes and nectar Tea,
Fit for the Muses, or for Me:
This Day, the same that gave her Birth,
She means to pass with thee in Mirth:
To Chat and Laugh, and be as free,
As any mortal Maid can be.

Wrote some Months after the Prince of Wales's Death.

For Frederick's Loss we will no longer mourn,
The dear departed Prince can ne'er return;
His single form the silent Grave receives,
But in his lovely Offspring yet he lives:
Of these the loyal Muse transported Sings,
And sees, in Thought, a future Race of Kings;
From Frederick and Augusta they descend,
And fill the British Throne till Time shall end:
Oh! may this Thought prophetic Truth contain,
And Brunswick's Race to endless Ages reign.

Four Speeches for four Boys, &c.

HOPE.

The first Speech.

Amidst the various Scenes of anxious Life,
Of Sickness, Sorrow, Poverty and Strife:
One sweet Companion still attends the Mind,
From whose kind Hints we secret Comfort find:
Fair-speaking Hope, that ever-welcome Guest,
The gentlest Inmate of the human Breast;
With future Bliss our present Care beguiles,
And cheats and chears us with her pleasing Smiles:
Nor transient are her Smiles, for to her Praise,
While Life remains the dear Deluder stays;
When most we languish, sunk in deep Distress,
When sharp Afflictions most the Soul depress;
Depriv'd of all, of ev'ry Good bereft,
When not one Pleasure nor one Friend is left;
The kind Indulger Hope alone remains,
Hushes our Griefs and moderates our Pains;
Bids us prepare a milder Fate to meet,
Smooths the rough Paths, and makes our Bitters sweet;
In smiling Fortune, or in Adverse ill,
This subtil Flatterer is ready still:
As Rich and Poor are equally her Friends,
Her Favors she impartially extends;
Confirms the Happy in their happy State,
And adds new Honours to th'ambitious Great;
Raises the Humble from their low Degree,
Combats Despair, and sets the Captive free;
Stands by the Miser while he counts his Store,
Laughs o'er the glitt'ring Heaps, and gives him more.
By her assisted, nothing seems too hard,
Go on she cries, and take a full Reward;
Prompted by Her, ev'n I can banish Fear,
And boldly hope to meet with Favor here.

DESPAIR.

The second Speech.

In vain you talk of Hope's endearing Wiles,
Her ample Blessings, and her lasting Smiles;
That she to ev'ry Breast can Joy impart,
And sweetly solace the afflicted Heart:
All this I know th'Enchantress will pretend,
And flatters high and imitates the Friend;
But few that trust her find the Dame sincere,
Her Gifts are Shadows, and her promise Air:
That her Dominion's large must be confest,
Yet let her not lay Claim to ev'ry Breast;
For some there are who scorn her gentle Sway,
Court black Despair, and his stern Laws obey.
Despair that keeps with Hope eternal War,
A Tyrant he, but more rever'd by far;
Such true Obedience do his Slaves afford,
They'll pour their Blood to please their cruel Lord.
Reverse of Hope that softly-soothing Dame,
By diff'rent Methods he aspires to Fame;
He robs the Rich, and does the Poor oppress,
Sows Discontent, adds Terror to Distress;
Confirms the Wretched, makes all Comfort fade,
And throws Dishonour on th'ambitious Head:
Plunders the Miser of his ill-got Pelf,
Who oft, to save his Money, starves himself;
His gloomy Subjects no soft Pleasures know,
Strangers to Ease, and Devotees to Woe:
In painful Anguish tedious Days are past,
And Sighs and Tears, Night's ling'ring Moments waste.
This sullen Pow'r averse to ev'ry Joy,
Does all the blissful Hours of Life destroy;
Blasts our best Wishes in their rising Bloom,
And shocks the tim'rous Mind with Ills to come.
To you, great Sirs, with low Respect I bend,
And ardent wish in each to find a Friend;
Long have I sigh'd your Favour to obtain,
But cold Despair assures me 'tis in vain.

LOVE.

The third Speech, by a little Boy, address'd to the Ladies.

Attend ye Fair, while I attempt to prove,
The Pains, the Pleasures, and the Pow'r of Love:
Love the great King whom other Kings obey,
Imperious rules with universal Sway;
The Proud, the Vain, the Humble and the Good,
His Vassals are in equal Servitude.
The Great, the Wise, the Coward and the Brave,
All sink alike in Love, and in the Grave:
Nor think ye fair ones in the peaceful Hour,
To live exempt from his all-ruling Pow'r;
In vain with Frowns you Arm the beauteous Brow,
Sooner or later, you, yourselves, must bow:
Like Death impartial, he presents his Dart,
And sure to conquer, aims at ev'ry Heart:
The Heart once touch'd by Love no longer knows,
An ever Tenor and a calm Repose;
But ever in extremes, freezes or burns,
And Joy, and Grief, and Rage succeed by turns.
Oh! who can dictate, or what Tongue reveal,
The strong Delight which favour'd Lovers feel;
When fancy'd Joys their ravish'd Thoughts inspire,
Elate with Hope, and fed with fond Desire!
Now pleasing Transports fill the youthful Breast,
The Charmer smiles, and we are more than blest!
But should she frown, that Frown our Bliss destroys,
Dashes our Hopes and dissipates our Joys:
Or to another should the heedless Dame,
Give one kind Glance,—our Souls are all in Flame;
Then Doubts and Fears the tortur'd Bosom move,
With Jealousy! the stretching Rack of Love.
'Twere endless to recount the various Woe,
Which sad despairing Lovers undergo;
What vast Distress, what strange distracting Pains,
Are caus'd by faithless Nymphs and perjur'd Swains!
But Man the cruel Shock can better bear,
Bus'ness, or Wine, or Sports, divert his Care;
Whilst the forsaken melancholy Maid,
Seeks out the Covert of a secret Shade;
And in the close Recesses of the Grove,
With Sighs and Tears, bewails her injur'd Love.
My little Heart melts at the sad Review,
And can no more the piteous Tale persue;
Hard-hearted Men!—too much to change inclin'd,
That can to faithful Beauty prove unkind!
Ladies, for once believe me whilst I swear,
When I'm a Man, I vow I'll be sincere.
'Till then let your sweet Smiles reward my Song,
For you may safely smile on one so young.

CONTENT.

The fourth Speech.

Since Love's short Joys soon yield to lasting Woe,
Since more of Pain than Pleasure Lovers know;
Since forward Hope deludes us to believe,
And then, like other Beauties, will deceive;
Since dark Despair rules yet with sterner Sway,
And leaves us not one comfortable Ray:
Grant me some better Aid, immortal Pow'rs,
To regulate my Life and cheer my Hours:
To charm all Cares, all anxious Thoughts prevent;
And what can do it like divine Content;
Content alone can harmonize the Soul,
Can rash Attempts and vain Desires controul;
Curb the loose Sallies of unbounded Will,
And keep the wild impetuous Passions still.
She checks our eager Hopes, dispels our Fears,
And gives a Truce to Love's perplexing Cares;
Brightens the Mind and beautifies the Mien,
While all is easy, placid and serene;
Content can solid Happiness impart,
And form a little Heav'n in ev'ry Heart;
In ev'ry Heart that is so highly blest,
To entertain the fair celestial Guest.
Happy the Man that can this Treasure find,
This calm Companion of the humble Mind,
Un-chang'd he bears blind Fortune's wild Excess,
Her Smiles transport not, or her Frowns depress;
Blest with Content, how smoothly runs his Glass,
How soft and sweet the chearful Minutes pass!
Such be the Lives of all our Patrons here,
Those worthy Patrons we so much revere;
Health, Wealth, and Honour, may they all possess,
And true Content their ev'ry Moment bless.

On the PEACE.

Stern War is past, the Soldier now no more,
Dis-tains the Hostile Field with human Gore;
Safe rests his Sword within its peaceful Sheath,
And he no longer dreads the sudden Death:
Loud Cannons now with harmless Thunder roar,
And Peals of Joy salute the neighb'ring Shore;
No murd'ring Foes molest the trading Main,
But friendly are the Coasts of France and Spain.
Merchants, look round, the joyful Prospect see,
Send out your Ships, for ev'ry Port is free;
Peace comes with gracious look and bounteous Hand,
That promise Blessings to a happy Land:
May Britain long the promis'd Blessings share,
Un-vex'd with foreign or domestic War.

To the Ladies at ---, having pass'd one Day with them.

Inclos'd in a Letter of Invitation.

He who from Birth has liv'd in endless Night,
And never known the Blessings of the Light;
May, un-repining, pass his darksome Hours,
A Stranger to the Sun's refulgent Pow'rs:
But he who once has seen his golden Ray,
And known the gaudy Beams that make the Day;
Hath seen the lovely Prospect Nature yields,
The flow'ry Gardens, and the fertile Fields;
The Earth, the Sea, the wide expanded Skies,
In which ten Thousand shining Wonders rise;
And, after this, his precious Sight must lose,
Must be depriv'd of these enchanting Views!
In sad Reflection will his Thoughts employ,
And languish for the dear departed Joy.
So I that have beheld the Sister Train,
Whose Sense and Beauty so distinguish'd reign;
Whose well-bred Converse, easy, quick, refin'd,
Sweetly engages the fond hearer's Mind;
In fruitless Wishes tedious Moments waste,
And gladly would repeat the Pleasure past:
But had I never seen fair L---'s Shades,
Where I beheld the Joy-dispensing Maids;
Content, and undesiring I had been,
A Stranger to the much-delighting Scene.

To a Friend who tax'd me with too much Zeal in blaming her Fondness to an unworthy Lover.

To Miss ---, on her Birth-Day, at a Time when she was much distress'd.

Let these soft Lines my ready Thoughts convey,
And hail the Daughter of this pleasing Day;
This Day revolving with the circling Year,
To Friendship sacred, to Maria dear;
Free from all Care, and dedicate to Mirth,
Shall be distinguish'd by one fav'rite Birth:
Look bright, ye Stars, shine each celestial Pow'r,
That first presided at her natal Hour.
Let this kind Year exclude each Scene of Woe,
May she, from hence, no adverse Fortune know;
But Happiness sincere, that long may last,
Compensate for her many Suff'rings past;
Be each propitious Influence display'd,
And cheer with endless Joy the mourning Maid.

Sent to a young Lady in Town, who had vow'd to die a Maid, in Answer to a Letter, where, in a Copy of Verses, she signify'd her Resolution, and desired an Account of the House and its Situation, in which a new married Lady of her acquaintance was settled.

Wrote suddenly at the Request of her Correspondent in a very sultry Day.

A handsome Mansion, new, and fair,
And situate in a healthful Air;
A rural Garden to it join'd,
With Flow'rs and Fruits of various kind;
Where gravell'd Walks and Beds of green,
Diversify the Sylvan Scene.
In silver Streams the finny Fry,
Here gaily sporting glad the Eye;
At either End a grateful Shade,
By twisting Greens, embow'ring, made:
Where guarded from the hot Extremes
Of Sol's insufferable Beams;
We mark the feather'd People's play,
Or listen to their warbling Lay;
Bright Prospects glitter all around,
On rising, or on sinking Ground.
While the fair Meads in fertile Pride,
Embroider'd smile on either Side.
Come then and see this lovely Seat,
So healthful, happy, and compleat:
Or tell me, from Description now,
Would you not break an idle Vow,
For such a Seat, in such a Shade,
And own the Vow was rashly made?

An Answer to a poetical Letter from Miss ---, in which she informs me of a warm Debate, in a Senate of Ladies, upon the Question, Whether I had ever been in Love?

And not being able to decide it by a Volume of POEMS I formerly publish'd, she appeals to me for a Determination.

The Gentleman's Answer to a Song call'd the Lady's Reply.

A SONG.

Sent to Mrs ---, upon the Epiphany.

When the Messiah first appear'd on Earth,
A glorious Star remark'd the wond'rous Birth;
With tenfold Light, the splendid Herald shone,
To shew the Star of Judah was come down:
Its Radiance so superior to the rest,
Struck with Amaze, the Learned of the East;
Three sapient Kings their ancient Homes forsake,
And to a Land unknown their Journey take;
Gold, Myrrh, and Frankincense, they then provide,
Their Faith, their Science, and the Star their guide.
At length they come, directed by its Ray,
To that blest Spot where the Great Infant lay;
The Heav'n-born Child in simplest guise was dress'd,
And in a lowly Cottage took his Rest;
Yet all his Looks the Deity confess'd;
A God-like Beauty over-spread his Face,
And more than Angel-brightness fill'd the Place!
Low on their Knees the wond'ring Sages fell,
Offer'd their Gold and Gifts of fragrant Smell.
We Christians still commemorate the Day,
And oft to those we love a Gift convey;
The customary Rite my Heart approves,
And thus applies to thee, whom much it loves.
To Day this Paper present comes to shew,
The just Distinction to your Merit due;
A well-meant Verse with honest Zeal I give,
May you my Off'ring candidly receive.

Upon the first Day of the Year.

PSALM CXLVI.

SHORT EJACULATIONS.

['Tis Religion that can give]

'Tis Religion that can give,
Sweetest Pleasures while we live;
'Tis Religion must supply,
Solid Comforts when we die,
After Death its Joys will be,
Lasting as Eternity.

[By Meditation, and by Pray'r]

By Meditation, and by Pray'r,
Let me to Heav'n ascend;
Secure a future Mansion there,
And make my God my Friend.

[Whene'er I touch the sounding Lyre]

Whene'er I touch the sounding Lyre,
Oh let thy Praise my Soul inspire;
My Saviour, King, and God!
Oh let me keep thee full in View,
And still with eager Steps persue
That Path thy Saints have trod.

At the ALTAR.

O my ador'd Redeemer! deign to be,
Now, present with the mystic Bread to me;
May I the Blessings of thy Blood partake,
Who drink the sacred Wine for thy dear sake.

A THOUGHT at first waking.

To a Lady on the New Year; by a Gentleman.

To the Rt Hon. Lady Viscountess IRWIN, on her Poem call'd Castle Howard.

CYDIPPE to LEONZO.

Think not I write thy Pity to implore,
Er'e this thou read'st Cydippe is no more;
For thee alone, ungrateful as thou art,
To purge thy Passions, and amend thy Heart.
For thee alone, the trembling Pen I take,
Willing my Woe, thy Happiness to make.
Too well, Leonzo, all my Heart you knew,
How warm my Love, how virtuous, and how true;
Thy tender Sighs my Heart's fond Pity mov'd,
And I at first through mere Compassion lov'd;
But as I found thy Fondness still the same,
Still kind thy Treatment, and still pure thy Flame;
No more I wish'd, or study'd to be free,
But frankly all my Heart resign'd to thee:
So true my Love, of change I nothing guest,
Nor dreaded ought, with thy Protection blest;
Shield me just Heav'n, Leonzo's self betrays,
And my bright Flame with Perfidy repays!
Ev'n he, my Guide, my Guardian and my Friend,
Lov'd to assist, and chosen to defend:
Ev'n he becomes the Viper in my Breast,
Despoils my Love, and lays my Comfort waste!
Think what a Deed, Leonzo, thou hast done,
And well, well, weigh the Triumph thou hast won.
Lo, 'tis o'er me whose Heart was all thy own,
Who lov'd thee well, and lov'd but thee alone;
Who for thy sake each Hardship would have try'd,
Who glad to make thee happy would have dy'd.
And her, for one short Interval of Blame,
A transient Joy that thou shouldst blush to name,
Her hast thou robb'd of ev'ry Human Bliss,
Fair Virtue, soft Content, and smiling Peace;
And no return; condemn'd to drag the Chain
Of Shame, Remorse, and self-consuming Pain.
Hadst thou some Mean, some unknown Maid abus'd,
Nought could a Deed so black have e'er excus'd:
Oh! think then how immense the Fault must prove,
When such the base return of virtuous Love;
When unsuspected on th'unguarded Maid,
Her own Protector steals, and all her Soul's betray'd.
Beware ye Virgins of the Lover's Lure,
Ye cannot be too wary, too secure;
The faithless Wantons Triumph to deceive,
Laugh at our Tears, and Joy to see us Grieve.
Yet sure Leonzo, sure it cannot be,
That all are cruel, all unjust as thee!
There are, kind Heav'n augment the happy Few,
Who scorn those Paths that Libertines persue;
In whose pure Love the Virgin may confide,
But ah, how rare!-and what to chuse the Guide?
By what strange Art shall we discern the True,
From Lovers, oh Leonzo, false as you!
Oh how escape, when studious to betray,
Wild roves the Rake thro' Pleasures flow'ry Way;
The Virgin's Anguish, and the Parent's Tear,
Mirth to his View, and Music to his Ear!
Ah me, 'tis vain, still many a hapless Fair,
Henceforth, like poor Cydippe, must despair;
More false Leonzo's to their Ruin haste,
And fly to lay each little Eden waste.
Think of the Crime, and View with conscious Thought,
My sad Distress, by thy unkindness wrought;
Reflect how much I lov'd, and to thy Eyes,
Let the dread Guilt in all its Horrors rise;
Let keen remorse afflict thy tortur'd Breast,
And make thee wretched—long to make thee blest.
May'st thou at last the fatal Fault erase,
Disarm Heav'n's Vengeance and resign in Peace.
Farewel—yet think how much Cydippe lov'd,
How much for thee she suffer'd, and be mov'd;
Farewell—remember me, nor hope to find,
Repose from ought, but Virtue in thy Mind.

PSALM CI.

Written in a blank Leaf of Mrs Row's Works.

Raptur'd I read these soft inspiring Lines,
Where Rowe's fair Mind in sacred Lustre shines;
Love, Friendship, Virtue, with full force appear,
They're all display'd in living Colours here;
The Pow'rs of Nature, with the Charms of Art,
And Grace divine, breathe warm in ev'ry Part;
With her my yielding Heart consenting goes,
Feels the soft Flame, and sympathizing glows.

On a Lady who refused the Address of four Gentlemen eminent in their Profession, and died a Maid.

Presented to a Gentleman in danger of being in Love with a Woman of bad Conduct.

Given him when he was earnestly looking at her.

Beauty! thou bright Seducer of Mankind,
Who oft in thee their certain Ruin find;
Remove thy tempting Colours of Delight,
Those gaudy Shadows that delude our Sight:
Far from my Eyes thy killing Charms remove,
For who can see thee and forbear to love?
Yet turn again—I've found a Nostrum sure,
Thy Mind is tainted, and my Heart's secure;
The Night of Vice, thy dazling Day invades,
And more, and more the tarnish'd Lustre fades.

On a female Cat, named Selima, who fell into a China Cistern with Gold Fishes in it, and was drown'd.

The following upon the same Occasion, was wrote by a Lady, probably to Selima's Mistress, to comfort her for the Loss of her Favourite.

A Gentleman having read the foregoing Verses, ask'd what Reason could be given for Phœbus interesting himself in the Affair? This Question occasion'd the following Lines.

Wit rewarded, or the Double Triumph.

A Tale founded in Truth.

An ODE on MUSICK.

Act II.

Address'd to a Lady (whom I had not then seen) on the Day of her Marriage with a Gentleman of my Acquaintance.

Deign gen'rous Fair, with Candor, to excuse,
The bold Intrusion of a Stranger's Muse;
Who joyous comes with forward Zeal to pay
Her due Address, on this auspicious Day.
What tho' your Form as yet, is un-reveal'd,
Such Merit is too bright to be conceal'd;
Fame's fav'rite Theme is Margarita's Praise,
To Margarita's Fame I'll tune my Lays;
To her I dedicate these artless Lines,
In whose fair Mind her Father's Virtue shines;
Like his, her Soul in Virtue shines array'd,
“And God and Man approves the perfect Maid.”
This I have often heard, with high Delight,
This warm'd my Bosom, taught me thus to Write;
While he, who happy in your kind Regard,
Exults, and Triumphs in the rich Reward.
His filial Letters often spoke your Praise,
And told your various Charms in various Ways;
But much too short, as these Expressions prove,
“All is too little for the Maid I love.”
Such Words, the Pen, by him directed, drew,
Such clos'd the Periods, when he talk'd of you;
Then justly have you smil'd upon the Youth,
Whose Soul is fraught with Tenderness and Truth;
Whose Heart is honest, gen'rous and sincere,
Kind to the poor, to all his Neighbours dear.
Blest be this Day which join'd your meeting Hands,
With holy Vows in Wedlock's sacred Bands;
Pregnant with Blessings, may it oft appear,
The Source of Joy for many a rolling Year;
And when the sublunary Date is past,
(For what is Mortal cannot always last)
May your blest Souls eternally unite,
In Mansions of more permanent Delight.

To the Author of the EPISTLE. To Mrs MASTERS and her Readers.

Whoe'er thou art, my nameless angry Foe,
That hop'st unseen, to strike an envious Blow;
In vain thou striv'st with base dissembling Art,
To hide the secret Rancour of thy Heart.
In vain would'st black infernal Hate conceal,
Beneath the Brightness of Religion's Veil;
What did thy Line of Blasphemy intend!
Can Rage like this promote a virtuous End!
In thy invidious Charge is plainly seen,
A lurking Enemy that vents his Spleen;
Wresting my Words, to Sense they ne'er design'd,
And foreign to each candid Reader's Mind.
My honest Meaning wrong'd, in Zeal can burn,
And present Fervor serves a present Turn;
Then in a sacred, but affected Strain,
Thou persecut'st the Errors of thy Brain;
But if thou need'st must ape the Critic's Skill,
For once take Counsel from a Woman's Quill;
And when thou next attempt'st the Censor's Page,
Resume thy Judgment, and renounce thy Rage;
Friendly Reproof my Soul, with Joy, receives,
But I despise the Blow that Malice gives;
Faults I allow in ev'ry Piece I've writ,
The Want of Spirit, Elegance and Wit.
The pointed Beauties, and the polish'd Art,
To raise my Verse, and charm the Reader's Heart;
Yet need not call Myrtillo's manly Muse,
To aid my Pen, and combat thy Abuse.
My Themes themselves, shall for their Author plead,
And justify me from an impious Deed;
Pure are my Thoughts, from all Profaneness free,
Awfully reverent of the Deity;
'Tis true, with warmth, I celebrate a Friend,
And am delighted when I can commend:
While each impartial Judge to me will grant,
What thou, my Monitor, seem'st much to want;
O, let me here the gen'rous Talent boast,
I most am pleas'd, when I can praise the most.
Take not a Line or two to feed thy Spite,
But read the whole, and understand it right;
Go search, un-prejudic'd, and joy to find,
Marks of good Nature with a Christian Mind.
What tho' I fondly sung Clemene's Name,
And was transported with the darling Theme;
No Adoration, no false Worship's there,
No solemn Invocation made by Pray'r:
No wonder-working Pow'r to her is giv'n,
Nor ought implor'd that I should ask of Heav'n.
I ever thought it was high Merit's due,
To be admir'd, belov'd, applauded too;
I lov'd, admir'd, and prais'd my virtuous Friend;
Yet knew each Grace did from her God descend;
I own'd the Spring whence all her Beauties flow'd,
And lowly bow'd me to the sov'reign Good.

PSALM CXXXVIII.

An Epitaph found at Soulac, the Ancient Noviomagus, a Town in Guienne, a Province of France.

It is inscribed in Latin, that carries the Marks of Roman Antiquity; it is to be met with in M. de Lourbe's Chronique de Bourdelouse, p. 5. from thence it was translated into English by the Rev. Mr T---n, and versify'd at his Request as follows. D. M.

The Expostulation and Resolution.

An Hymn intended to be sung on Easter-Day.

PSALM CIV.

Awake my Soul, with all thy Pow'rs record,
In lofty Strains, the Praises of the Lord;
To him be everlasting Honour giv'n,
Who shines in all the Majesty of Heav'n.
Eternal! with essential Splendor bright,
En-rob'd in Veils of un-approached Light;
Who can endure the strong effulgent Rays,
That ceaseless from the glorious Godhead blaze!
From him the Skies their first Existence found,
Which, Curtain-like expand their Folds around;
Descending now he rests upon the Deeps,
And now the Clouds with passing Glory sweeps:
Submissive Winds receive him on their Wings,
And fly triumphant with the King of Kings.
Near thee, their God, th'Angelic Spirits stand,
Active as Light they run, at thy Command;
Each ready Minister obedient flies,
Bright as the Flames that from thy Altars rise:
Loud, at thy Call, they bid the Whirl-wind blow,
And blazing with destructive Lightnings go;
To execute thy Will, their sole employ,
The Good to save, the Wicked to destroy.
The Earth by thee was fixt with wond'rous Art,
From its firm Basis never to depart;
A liquid covering hides the solid Ground,
Like flowing Robes that ev'ry Part surround;
From Dale to Dale the gath'ring Waters glide,
Climb o'er the Hills, and swell on ev'ry Side;
'Till check'd by thee, a diff'rent Course they try,
Thou speak'st in Thunder, and they frighted fly;
Some down the Hills with rapid Torrent flow,
Some slumber peaceful in the Vales below.
Call'd by their Lord, the scatter'd Floods obey,
And to the future Ocean take their Way;
There fixt as with an Adamantine Chain,
Th'impatient Billows toss and rave in vain;
Check'd by thy Nod, restrain'd by thy Command,
With empty Menaces they threat the Land.
In all thy Works the Rays of Wisdom shine,
In all appear a Plenitude Divine!
The fruitful Earth is richly stor'd by thee,
And thou hast made the Wonders of the Sea;
Where bulky Ships to distant Ports consign'd,
Float on the Waves, and fly before the Wind.
There living Forms of ev'ry Kind appear,
And huge Leviathans are sporting there;
All these from thee their daily Succours crave,
All these from thee their daily Succours have.
Millions of Creatures, both by Sea and Land,
Take in their Food from thy sufficing Hand;
Thy Hand with-drawn, astonish'd Millions lie
Prostrate on Earth, pine, sicken, faint, and die;
Thy Frown Dis-peoples Ocean, Earth and Air,
And blasted Systems wither in Despair;
But absent thou, if thou couldst absent be,
What dreadful Desolation should we see!
Thy animating Breath sustains the whole,
Its Life, its Spirit, its informing Soul;
When smiling Grace speaks out th'omnific Word,
Nature, enraptur'd, springs to meet her Lord.
Beyond whate'er can be by Language taught,
Beyond the utmost Flight of Human Thought;
In Glory infinite, in Pow'r supreme,
Blest in thy self, eternally the same;
Pleas'd with thy perfect Work thou reign'st alone,
And subject Seraphs bow before thy Throne.
Aw'd by a Look, the trembling Earth retires,
And touch'd, the Mountains groan, and burst in Fires;
So great is God! so strikes the sinking Sense,
With the full Blaze of dread Omnipotence;
But Mercy's milder Glories fix their Rays,
And lift the Worshippers from Fear to Praise.
When e'er I sing, as long as Life remains,
His mighty Name shall dignify my Strains;
In him alone shall terminate my Joys,
Far off, henceforth, be Vanity and Toys.
Delight and Peace attend on Virtue's Ways,
His Bliss is most sublime, who best obeys;
But they who dare his Ire, his Laws defy,
Despis'd shall live, and un-lamented die;
A while they shine, but soon shall set in Shame,
Nor leave a Race behind, nor leave a Name.
Awake my Soul, wake ev'ry tuneful String,
And to thy God with holy Rapture sing;
Let all his Works one solemn Concert raise,
And loudly sing their great Creator's Praise.
O praise the Lord, as long as Life remains,
His mighty Name shall dignify my Strains;
His Praise shall quiver on my fault'ring Breath,
And form my first sweet Anthem after Death.