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3
The 104th PSALM.
I
Arise, my Soul, in hallow'd Lays!Arise, the King of Heav'n to praise!—
My God! thy Glories shine
In never-fading Beauty bright:
How art Thou rob'd in radiant Light,
And Majesty divine!
II
He, as a Curtain, stretch'd on highThe vast cerulean Canopy,
And gave with Fires to glow:
'Twas He, tremendous Potentate,
Built on the Waves his Hall of State,
Wide as the Waters flow.
4
III
He walks upon the Wings of Wind,And leaves the rapid Storms behind:
Their Monarch's awful Will
Seraphs await in dread Suspense;
And, swifter than the Light'ning's Glance,
His mighty Word fulfill.
IV
Earth's Base He deeply laid, to bearThe Shocks of elemental War,
While Time itself shall last;
He bade to move the vast Profound,
And o'er the solid Mass around
A liquid Mantle cast.
V
At thy Rebuke the Tides recede,Each growing Hill upheaves it's Head,
From the deep Gulph below;
The Thunder of thy Voice they hear,
And to their Caverns, smit with Fear,
Precipitately flow.
5
VI
Now up the Hills they lab'ring creep;Now down the Vales tumultuous sweep;
For such is thy Command:
Their Tyrant Rage thy Wisdom bounds,
Lest, madly rushing o'er their Mounds,
They whelm the ruin'd Land.
VII
He feeds with Springs the lucid Rills,That, tinkling down the shrubby Hills,
In wild Meanders rove,
Where Beasts to cool their Thirst repair,
Where sing the Choristers of Air
Within th'umbrageous Grove.
VIII
He bids the Clouds their Treasures shedOn the bleak Mountain's singed Head;—
Reviving Meadows smile;
Hence Earth exub'rant Herbage pours
For lowing Herds; hence genial Stores
To bless the Tiller's Toil.
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IX
The Vines with purple Clusters glow,And swell'd with nobler Juices flow
The drooping Heart to chear;
See Vats with Olive Tides abound,
See Fields with golden Harvests crown'd,
Frail Nature to repair.
X
He bids the spiry Firs arise,The Cedar vig'rous pierce the Skies
From Lebanon's chill Brow;
Fearless, amid conflicting Storms,
The tow'ring Stork his Cradle forms
High on the sounding Bough.
XI
Each Creature knows his safe Abode,And treads the Path assign'd by God;
Far in the western Skies
The punctual Sun, at Ev'ning Hour,
Sinks in the Sea; with feeble Pow'r
The Moon his Place supplies.
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XII
But when the sable Hand of NightHas quench'd the sickly Rays of Light,
Fierce thro' the devious Wood
The Lion, gaunt with Hunger, scours;
The Desart trembles as he roars
Invoking Heav'n for Food.
XIII
But soon as springs the roseate DawnTo gild with Light the verdant Lawn,
The growling Monsters fly;
Heav'n-taught they shun the Ways of Men,
And, stretch'd along th'ensanguin'd Den,
In horrid Slumbers lie.
XIV
Renew'd with Sleep, the Lab'rer spiesThe Blushes of the Morning Skies;
New Toil to Rest succeeds,
'Till the departing Beams refuse
Their kindly Warmth, and Ev'ning Dews
Impearl the flow'ry Meads.
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XV
Thy Wisdom, Lord, the Land displays,Thy Pow'r informs the spacious Seas
With vivifying Soul;
There Whales enormous stem the Main,
Who, Kings of the tempestuous Reign,
In aukward Gambols roll.
XVI
'Tis there the Pilot o'er the TidesSecure the tilting Vessel guides:
The scaly Tribes, that move
In Myriads thro' the wat'ry Waste,
Thy gracious Providence attest,
Thy kind, paternal Love.
XVII
To Thee they raise th imploring Eye,From Thee expect a sure Supply;
In thy sustaining Breath
They live:—Thy Face but turn away;
They die:—Thou wilst; the quick'ning Clay
Instinctive springs from Death.
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XVIII
O God, thy Glory knows no Change;To Thee glad Nature's ample Range
Unwearied Homage pays;
If Thou displeas'd thy Look incline,
Earth trembles;—at the Touch divine
Her bursting Mountains blaze.
XIX
Source of my Bliss! To Thee I'll sing;To Thee enraptur'd strike the String,
While Breath inspires my Frame:
The livid Bolt, that vengeful flies,
Shall blast thy Foes—My Soul, arise!
Resound Jehovah's Name.
11
THE CYCLOPS,
AN IDYLLIUM from THEOCRITUS.
Addressed to a PHYSICIAN.
Partly done in the Year 1744.
No Balms, dear Doctor, half so sov'reign prove,
To heal the bleeding Yonth, who dies for Love,
As soft harmonious Verse; to that we owe
Whatever Mortals call divine below.
Persuasive, mild, pure Numbers steal the Heart,
But few the Masters of this heav'nly Art.
I know my Doctrine is approv'd by you,
The best of Poets and Physicians too.
'Twas thus, as Fame reports, in Days of yore
Cyclopean Polypheme on Ætna's Shore
His hapless Passion sooth'd: the Giant-Swain
Fair Galatea woo'd, but woo'd in vain;
In vain the Lover sigh'd, in vain he mourn'd,
In all the Pride of youthful Vigour scorn'd.
He ne'er with Presents strove to win the Dame,
Too wild his Passion, and too fierce his Flame;
Ripe Fruit and Flow'rs a rural Maid might move,
His Presents all were Exstacies of Love.
While widely wand'ring o'er the thymy Mead
Full oft his fleecy Flocks neglected feed;
And bleeting homeward lag at Ev'ning Tide,
No Voice to cheer them, and no Swain to guide.
Far other Cares his pensive Hours invade,
O'er the lone Shore the livelong Day he stray'd,
His Pipe his Business, and his Theme the Maid.
The warbling Pipe his raging Flame supprest,
And heal'd the Anguish of his wounded Breast.
From a high Rock, impending o'er the Bay,
He downward gaz'd, and thus commenc'd the Lay.
To heal the bleeding Yonth, who dies for Love,
As soft harmonious Verse; to that we owe
Whatever Mortals call divine below.
Persuasive, mild, pure Numbers steal the Heart,
But few the Masters of this heav'nly Art.
I know my Doctrine is approv'd by you,
The best of Poets and Physicians too.
12
Cyclopean Polypheme on Ætna's Shore
His hapless Passion sooth'd: the Giant-Swain
Fair Galatea woo'd, but woo'd in vain;
In vain the Lover sigh'd, in vain he mourn'd,
In all the Pride of youthful Vigour scorn'd.
He ne'er with Presents strove to win the Dame,
Too wild his Passion, and too fierce his Flame;
Ripe Fruit and Flow'rs a rural Maid might move,
His Presents all were Exstacies of Love.
While widely wand'ring o'er the thymy Mead
Full oft his fleecy Flocks neglected feed;
And bleeting homeward lag at Ev'ning Tide,
No Voice to cheer them, and no Swain to guide.
Far other Cares his pensive Hours invade,
O'er the lone Shore the livelong Day he stray'd,
His Pipe his Business, and his Theme the Maid.
13
And heal'd the Anguish of his wounded Breast.
From a high Rock, impending o'er the Bay,
He downward gaz'd, and thus commenc'd the Lay.
Say, Galatea, say my lovely Maid,
Why thus with Scorn are all my Vows repaid?
Thy Skin is whiter than the whitest Cheese,
And softer than the Lambkin's downy Fleece:
Less gamesome o'er the Mead young Heifers run,
Less harsh the Grapes, ere purpled by the Sun.
Oft as I slumber, you forsake the Main,
And wildly wanton o'er the verdant Plain;
I wake, and quick my fearful Fair-one flies,
As when a Lamb the hoary Wolf espies.
Then first my Bosom caught this am'rous Flame,
When with my Mother to these Fields you came;
Your Bus'ness was to pluck the Flowrets gay
From yonder Hill; I joyful led the Way:
From that same Hour I never knew Repose,
While you, inhuman, triumph o'er my Woes.
I guess, dear Nymph, the Cause of all your Scorn,
No winning Charms my homelier Face adorn;
One black continued Arch from Ear to Ear
My Eye-brow spreads, horrid with shaggy Hair;
And stern the Ball, that solitary glows
Amid my Front; and flat and large my Nose.
But, tho' my Features are not form'd for Love,
Vast is my Wealth, and surely Wealth may move:
A thousand Ewes I feed in yonder Vales,
Whose teeming Udders crown the foaming Pails;
What Loads of Cheeses on my Shelves appear
Thro' all the varying Seasons of the Year!
Beside the tuneful Pipe I handle well,
And all th' harmonious Family excel:
Full oft I warble to the Ev'ning Wind,
And with thy Beauties feast my flatter'd Mind.
For thee twelve pregnant Does I feed with Care;
For thee four Cubs I ravish'd from the Bear;
Haste to my Arms! they all are thine, my Fair;
Haste to my Arms! and, while the distant Roar
Of bursting Billows thunders on the Shore,
Let us, entranc'd in amorous Delight,
Within my peaceful Bow'r consume the Night.
Blest rural Scene! Here tow'rs the Cypress Grove,
And there the Laurel Shades invite to Love;
Here clasping Ivy creeps; the Vineyard there
Bends with the blushing Burden of the Year;
Here murm'ring glides the silver-sparkling Rill,
Nectareous Draught, from Ætna's snowy Hill:
'Tis more delightful sure to dwell with me,
Than bear the stormy Regions of the Sea.
But if less happy in a pleasing Frame,
My rougher Look forbids a mutual Flame,
Behold my Fires of Oak, that, blazing high,
Are still renew'd with Fuel, ne'er to die!
Yes, and in Flames my very Soul shou'd burn,
Nay, this broad Orb, from it's deep Socket torn,
And I for Thee wou'd deem the Forfeit small,
So dearly as I love the precious Ball.
O, that kind Nature had my Frame supply'd
With oary Fins to cleave the liquid Tide!
To visit Thee I oft wou'd quit the Land,
And, if deny'd thy Lips, wou'd kiss thy Hand:
Lilies and Poppies I to the Thee wou'd bear,
Ev'n all the blooming Produce of the Year.
When next some Sailor anchors in the Bay,
My Limbs shall learn to cut the wat'ry Way;
Then shall I know what Joys my Nymph detain,
And what the dear Amusements of the Main.
O, quit the Waves, and, list'ning to my Lays,
Forget thy pearly Grots, and native Seas!
Like me, for thy sweet Sake who pining sit,
Move not, nor mark the Minutes, as they fleet.
Together we will tend the fleecy Breed,
Together milk them, and together feed,
The dripping Cheese with Hands united press,
Or mix the Rennet with the curdling Mass.
My Mother most I blame; who daily sees
My Care-worn Limbs consuming by Degrees,
And never (O unkind!) by Pity won,
Spoke once in Favour of her dying Son:
But with dissembled Woes I'll wound her Ear,
'Till she shall all my real anguish share.
O wretched Polypheme! O silly Swain!
What Frenzy seizes thy distemper'd Brain?
Recal thy Prudence, act the wiser Part,
Nor hope the Conquest of that stubborn Heart:
Hie to thy Cell, the pliant Oziers weave,
And to thy Lambs the verdant Cyons give.
The ancient Maxim of the Swain is wise,
“Milk her that's near, pursue not her that flies.”
Tho' this with proud Disdain rejects thy Love,
A fairer Galatea kind may prove.
Oft to my Cave the Girls by Night resort,
And loud invite me to their Revel-Sport;
And when I kindly with their Call comply,
A universal Titter tells their Joy.
However Sea-Nymphs may despise my Flame,
On Earth sure Polypheme's no vulgar Name.
Why thus with Scorn are all my Vows repaid?
Thy Skin is whiter than the whitest Cheese,
And softer than the Lambkin's downy Fleece:
Less gamesome o'er the Mead young Heifers run,
Less harsh the Grapes, ere purpled by the Sun.
Oft as I slumber, you forsake the Main,
And wildly wanton o'er the verdant Plain;
I wake, and quick my fearful Fair-one flies,
As when a Lamb the hoary Wolf espies.
Then first my Bosom caught this am'rous Flame,
When with my Mother to these Fields you came;
Your Bus'ness was to pluck the Flowrets gay
From yonder Hill; I joyful led the Way:
14
While you, inhuman, triumph o'er my Woes.
I guess, dear Nymph, the Cause of all your Scorn,
No winning Charms my homelier Face adorn;
One black continued Arch from Ear to Ear
My Eye-brow spreads, horrid with shaggy Hair;
And stern the Ball, that solitary glows
Amid my Front; and flat and large my Nose.
But, tho' my Features are not form'd for Love,
Vast is my Wealth, and surely Wealth may move:
A thousand Ewes I feed in yonder Vales,
Whose teeming Udders crown the foaming Pails;
What Loads of Cheeses on my Shelves appear
Thro' all the varying Seasons of the Year!
Beside the tuneful Pipe I handle well,
And all th' harmonious Family excel:
Full oft I warble to the Ev'ning Wind,
And with thy Beauties feast my flatter'd Mind.
15
For thee four Cubs I ravish'd from the Bear;
Haste to my Arms! they all are thine, my Fair;
Haste to my Arms! and, while the distant Roar
Of bursting Billows thunders on the Shore,
Let us, entranc'd in amorous Delight,
Within my peaceful Bow'r consume the Night.
Blest rural Scene! Here tow'rs the Cypress Grove,
And there the Laurel Shades invite to Love;
Here clasping Ivy creeps; the Vineyard there
Bends with the blushing Burden of the Year;
Here murm'ring glides the silver-sparkling Rill,
Nectareous Draught, from Ætna's snowy Hill:
'Tis more delightful sure to dwell with me,
Than bear the stormy Regions of the Sea.
But if less happy in a pleasing Frame,
My rougher Look forbids a mutual Flame,
16
Are still renew'd with Fuel, ne'er to die!
Yes, and in Flames my very Soul shou'd burn,
Nay, this broad Orb, from it's deep Socket torn,
And I for Thee wou'd deem the Forfeit small,
So dearly as I love the precious Ball.
O, that kind Nature had my Frame supply'd
With oary Fins to cleave the liquid Tide!
To visit Thee I oft wou'd quit the Land,
And, if deny'd thy Lips, wou'd kiss thy Hand:
Lilies and Poppies I to the Thee wou'd bear,
Ev'n all the blooming Produce of the Year.
When next some Sailor anchors in the Bay,
My Limbs shall learn to cut the wat'ry Way;
Then shall I know what Joys my Nymph detain,
And what the dear Amusements of the Main.
O, quit the Waves, and, list'ning to my Lays,
Forget thy pearly Grots, and native Seas!
17
Move not, nor mark the Minutes, as they fleet.
Together we will tend the fleecy Breed,
Together milk them, and together feed,
The dripping Cheese with Hands united press,
Or mix the Rennet with the curdling Mass.
My Mother most I blame; who daily sees
My Care-worn Limbs consuming by Degrees,
And never (O unkind!) by Pity won,
Spoke once in Favour of her dying Son:
But with dissembled Woes I'll wound her Ear,
'Till she shall all my real anguish share.
O wretched Polypheme! O silly Swain!
What Frenzy seizes thy distemper'd Brain?
Recal thy Prudence, act the wiser Part,
Nor hope the Conquest of that stubborn Heart:
Hie to thy Cell, the pliant Oziers weave,
And to thy Lambs the verdant Cyons give.
18
“Milk her that's near, pursue not her that flies.”
Tho' this with proud Disdain rejects thy Love,
A fairer Galatea kind may prove.
Oft to my Cave the Girls by Night resort,
And loud invite me to their Revel-Sport;
And when I kindly with their Call comply,
A universal Titter tells their Joy.
However Sea-Nymphs may despise my Flame,
On Earth sure Polypheme's no vulgar Name.
Thus breath'd the Swain his Vows; and now he ceast
His plaintive Musick, Love's ambrosial Feast,
Sooth'd with the Song: This happy Cure he sought,
Nor see'd the Doctor for a nauseous Draught.
His plaintive Musick, Love's ambrosial Feast,
Sooth'd with the Song: This happy Cure he sought,
Nor see'd the Doctor for a nauseous Draught.
19
ANACREON.
ODE lvi.
My Head is blanch'd with hoary Years,Snowy white my falling Hairs,
My Beauty gone, my Teeth decay'd,
And all the Zest of Life is fled.
I shudder at impending Fate,
Shudder at a future State.
Dark and joyless are the Plains
Where Pluto, grizly Monarch, reigns;
Deep, and terrible the Road
Leading to the drear Abode.
Styx with Ease we ferry o'er,
But they who pass return no more.
For this I sigh, for this complain,
But Sighs, and Groans, and Tears are vain.
29
VERSES
SENT TO THE Rev. Mr. HAGGIT, WITH A BOOK of HERALDRY.
I
'Twas once observ'd (as Story says)To Philip's warlike Son;—
“While all in purple Garments shine,
“Antipater has none.”
II
The King reply'd;—“By rich Attire“Our Grace let others win;
“He, tho' in humble Vesture clad,
“Is Purple all within.”
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III
'Tis Guillim's Case: A Cover fairHe values not a Pin;
For, tho' in tatter'd Binding clad,
He's Grandeur all within.
IV
Hard Fate! that He, who gives to allArms, Motto, Crest, what not?
That He, great Source of Honour, 's doom'd
Himself to want a Coat.
31
VERSES
ON THE DEATH of a notorious BAWD.
Made at the Request of a Friend, 1746.
Moll king's no more!—Prepare, ye Fiends below!
To make your Fires with tenfold Ardour glow;
Heap on the Sulphur blue, and bid the Bellows blow.
Moll King's no more!—malignant Fame around,
With Raven Voice, proclaims the dismal Sound:
Each batter'd Templar, smit with boding Fears,
Her flapping Pinions at his Casement hears,
And, wildly starting, drops the lifted Dose,
His slacken'd Fingers trembling for his Nose.
Nor less the melancholy Tidings shock
Th' aspiring Soul of salutif'rous Rock,
Tho' high exalted in his Chariot bright,
Like Phebus, God of Physick, and of Light:
And well her Tragic Fate may wound his Soul,
Whose Orgies taught his rapid Wheels to roll.
Ev'n [OMITTED] heaves a momentary Sigh,
Chill'd with the View of grim Mortality,
And mimic Roses fade beneath her streaming Eye.
To make your Fires with tenfold Ardour glow;
Heap on the Sulphur blue, and bid the Bellows blow.
Moll King's no more!—malignant Fame around,
With Raven Voice, proclaims the dismal Sound:
Each batter'd Templar, smit with boding Fears,
Her flapping Pinions at his Casement hears,
And, wildly starting, drops the lifted Dose,
His slacken'd Fingers trembling for his Nose.
Nor less the melancholy Tidings shock
Th' aspiring Soul of salutif'rous Rock,
32
Like Phebus, God of Physick, and of Light:
And well her Tragic Fate may wound his Soul,
Whose Orgies taught his rapid Wheels to roll.
Ev'n [OMITTED] heaves a momentary Sigh,
Chill'd with the View of grim Mortality,
And mimic Roses fade beneath her streaming Eye.
From Covent-Garden, late her lov'd Resort,
Now Venus seeks the soft Idalian Court:
Her harness'd Doves with plaintive Cooings bear
The frantic Goddess thro' the murm'ring Air:
Th' attendant Cupids, answ'ring Groan for Groan,
Deplore their Laughter-loving Priestess gone.
Now Venus seeks the soft Idalian Court:
Her harness'd Doves with plaintive Cooings bear
The frantic Goddess thro' the murm'ring Air:
Th' attendant Cupids, answ'ring Groan for Groan,
Deplore their Laughter-loving Priestess gone.
Tho' Syphilis, dread Pow'r, has seiz'd her Breath,
Her Fame still triumphs o'er the Darts of Death:
Around her Grave, by blushing Cynthia's Ray,
Lascivious Pan, and frolick Satyrs play:
Brisk flutt'ring Sparrows chirp and bill around;
And Toads engender on the tainted Ground:
There hot Eringoes rise; whose mystic Root
(Like Moly, tasted by th' enchanted Brute)
To wither'd Looks, so hateful to the Fair,
Restores a youthful Grace, and sprightly Air;
No longer Impotence his Palsy mourns,
But wond'ring Cuckolds shed their beastly Horns.
Her Fame still triumphs o'er the Darts of Death:
Around her Grave, by blushing Cynthia's Ray,
Lascivious Pan, and frolick Satyrs play:
33
And Toads engender on the tainted Ground:
There hot Eringoes rise; whose mystic Root
(Like Moly, tasted by th' enchanted Brute)
To wither'd Looks, so hateful to the Fair,
Restores a youthful Grace, and sprightly Air;
No longer Impotence his Palsy mourns,
But wond'ring Cuckolds shed their beastly Horns.
35
On an OLD MAID
That chewed TOBACCO.
“O nymph! adorn'd with all those harmless Rays,
“The sober Eve of Chastity displays;
“Ingenious to conceal with Comb of Lead
“The dire Dishonour of a hoary Head;
“Or vacant Gums with Iv'ry to renew,
“Or on your Cheeks unconscious Blushes strew;
“What nobler Art, O gentle Maid! disclose,
“Preserves inviolate your Virgin Rose,
“When on your Face no native Blossom blows?
“Such Skill surpasses all cosmetic Pow'rs;
“The Bloom of Innocence no Rouge restores.
“The sober Eve of Chastity displays;
“Ingenious to conceal with Comb of Lead
“The dire Dishonour of a hoary Head;
“Or vacant Gums with Iv'ry to renew,
“Or on your Cheeks unconscious Blushes strew;
“What nobler Art, O gentle Maid! disclose,
“Preserves inviolate your Virgin Rose,
“When on your Face no native Blossom blows?
“Such Skill surpasses all cosmetic Pow'rs;
“The Bloom of Innocence no Rouge restores.
“Did Virgin Pallas o'er her fav'rite Maid
“The hissing Horrors of her Ægis spread,
“To guard your Honour at the Birthnight Ball,
“When glitt'ring Coronets conspir'd your Fall;
“And Cupid, perching on a ducal Star,
“With silver Shasts provok'd the am'rous War;
“Or from his Ambush of a Milk-white Glove
“Discharg'd the whole Artillery of Love?
“Or when, from Courts and noisy Pomp withdrawn,
“You sought Retirement on the rural Lawn,
“Did your chaste Vows Diana's Pity move
“To guide your Footsteps thro' the dang'rous Grove,
“Where wounded Virtue pines in ev'ry Shade,
“And Love's sly God, in rustick Weeds array'd,
“Assumes a Shepherd's Gait, and blithesome Look,
“(His lengthen'd Bow converted to a Crook,
“And to a jocund Pipe th' unfeather'd Reed:)
“While Flocks around his Fairy Cottage feed,
“And murm'ring Streams, and warbling Birds conspire
“To melt the Mind with languishing Desire?
“Whate'er the Spell, O warn th' untutor'd Fair,
“Lest Cupid's Toils the wand'ring Foot ensnare
“Of careless Innocence, too prone to trip.”—
A Gallant, smiling, pointed to her Lip,
And thus reply'd;—“There lies the potent Charm,
“Which can the fiercest Rage of Love disarm!
“Virginia, mindful of a Virgin's Fame,
“(Since from a scepter'd Maid she took her Name)
“To Flavia's Aid the magic Leaf conveys,
“That (as a Laurel-Wreath the Light'ning's Blaze)
“Averts each ardent Eye's contagious Gaze;
“While Love, his Bow now levell'd at her Heart,
“Struck with unusual Horror, drops the Dart.”
“The hissing Horrors of her Ægis spread,
36
“When glitt'ring Coronets conspir'd your Fall;
“And Cupid, perching on a ducal Star,
“With silver Shasts provok'd the am'rous War;
“Or from his Ambush of a Milk-white Glove
“Discharg'd the whole Artillery of Love?
“Or when, from Courts and noisy Pomp withdrawn,
“You sought Retirement on the rural Lawn,
“Did your chaste Vows Diana's Pity move
“To guide your Footsteps thro' the dang'rous Grove,
“Where wounded Virtue pines in ev'ry Shade,
“And Love's sly God, in rustick Weeds array'd,
“Assumes a Shepherd's Gait, and blithesome Look,
“(His lengthen'd Bow converted to a Crook,
“And to a jocund Pipe th' unfeather'd Reed:)
“While Flocks around his Fairy Cottage feed,
“And murm'ring Streams, and warbling Birds conspire
“To melt the Mind with languishing Desire?
37
“Lest Cupid's Toils the wand'ring Foot ensnare
“Of careless Innocence, too prone to trip.”—
A Gallant, smiling, pointed to her Lip,
And thus reply'd;—“There lies the potent Charm,
“Which can the fiercest Rage of Love disarm!
“Virginia, mindful of a Virgin's Fame,
“(Since from a scepter'd Maid she took her Name)
“To Flavia's Aid the magic Leaf conveys,
“That (as a Laurel-Wreath the Light'ning's Blaze)
“Averts each ardent Eye's contagious Gaze;
“While Love, his Bow now levell'd at her Heart,
“Struck with unusual Horror, drops the Dart.”
39
RIDDLE.
Ye sage Astronomers, whose curious Eyes
Explore the Secrets of the starry Skies,
And trace each rapid Orb with Skill profound,
Come, try with me this Myst'ry to expound!
Friend Haw, prepare thy mathematic Line,
And, Waiter, bring us t'other Pint of Wine.
Explore the Secrets of the starry Skies,
And trace each rapid Orb with Skill profound,
Come, try with me this Myst'ry to expound!
Friend Haw, prepare thy mathematic Line,
And, Waiter, bring us t'other Pint of Wine.
Say, in what Part of Nature's various Frame
Is plac'd that wond'rous Globe, and what the Name,
In Winter where two chrystal Fountains run,
Which are exhausted by the Summer's Sun?
Here smooth as polish'd Stone the Surface lies,
Here rough with pendent Shrubs; there tow'ring Forests rise;
Where roams a Nation, like the Tartars bold,
That, nurs'd with Blood, a dreadful Empire hold.
Contiguous to these Shades a Cavern's seen,
Rugged with Rocks, and dark and deep within,
Whence issue Clouds of Smoke, and hideous Din;
Scarce Ætna or Vesuvius louder sound,
When dire Combustion shakes their Vaults profound.
Attendant on this lordly Globe appear
Two Satellites, each rolling in it's Sphere,
On which, in Miniature, depicted stand,
(The Work of Heav'n's inimitable Hand)
Whate'er exists in Seas, or Air, or Land.
Here the proud Peacock spreads his Plumage gay,
The Fruit-Trees here their vivid Bloom display;
Here mimic Streams the flow'ry Meadow lave,
And here the restless Ocean rolls his Wave.
And, stranger yet, with matchless Art design'd,
Scoop'd in it's shaggy Sides long Lab'rinths wind;
Where the faint Gales, that scarcely Motion give
To Aspin-Leaves, these magic Cells receive
With Sound distinct, and unimpair'd convey
The lowest Accent thro' the darksome Way.
No more, Saint Paul, thy whisp'ring Gall'ry boast,
It's Fame in this superior Wonder lost.
Is plac'd that wond'rous Globe, and what the Name,
In Winter where two chrystal Fountains run,
Which are exhausted by the Summer's Sun?
Here smooth as polish'd Stone the Surface lies,
Here rough with pendent Shrubs; there tow'ring Forests rise;
Where roams a Nation, like the Tartars bold,
That, nurs'd with Blood, a dreadful Empire hold.
Contiguous to these Shades a Cavern's seen,
Rugged with Rocks, and dark and deep within,
Whence issue Clouds of Smoke, and hideous Din;
40
When dire Combustion shakes their Vaults profound.
Attendant on this lordly Globe appear
Two Satellites, each rolling in it's Sphere,
On which, in Miniature, depicted stand,
(The Work of Heav'n's inimitable Hand)
Whate'er exists in Seas, or Air, or Land.
Here the proud Peacock spreads his Plumage gay,
The Fruit-Trees here their vivid Bloom display;
Here mimic Streams the flow'ry Meadow lave,
And here the restless Ocean rolls his Wave.
And, stranger yet, with matchless Art design'd,
Scoop'd in it's shaggy Sides long Lab'rinths wind;
Where the faint Gales, that scarcely Motion give
To Aspin-Leaves, these magic Cells receive
With Sound distinct, and unimpair'd convey
The lowest Accent thro' the darksome Way.
No more, Saint Paul, thy whisp'ring Gall'ry boast,
It's Fame in this superior Wonder lost.
41
No curious Botanists with downward Head
And cautious Step intent the Surface tread:
Beneath, sequester'd from the Walks of Men,
No gloomy Miners trace the yellow Vein:
No Marbles wait, in column'd Piles to rise,
No Gems, to flash their Lustre on the Skies.
Yet hence Loretto's Virgin sparkles bright
In Gold and Diamonds; with the precious Weight
Too much encumber'd for another Flight.
Hence Egypt's Pyramids their Summits hide
In Clouds, vast Monuments of Eastern Pride!
Hence the laborious Chemist, from the Flow'rs
And Mountain Herbs extracts the healing Pow'rs:
Hence deep Philosophers their Pupils teach,
Hence Lawyers squabble, and hence Parsons preach:
Hence Epics fire us, Riddles but confuse,
The last weak Effort of a dying Muse.
And cautious Step intent the Surface tread:
Beneath, sequester'd from the Walks of Men,
No gloomy Miners trace the yellow Vein:
No Marbles wait, in column'd Piles to rise,
No Gems, to flash their Lustre on the Skies.
Yet hence Loretto's Virgin sparkles bright
In Gold and Diamonds; with the precious Weight
Too much encumber'd for another Flight.
Hence Egypt's Pyramids their Summits hide
In Clouds, vast Monuments of Eastern Pride!
Hence the laborious Chemist, from the Flow'rs
And Mountain Herbs extracts the healing Pow'rs:
Hence deep Philosophers their Pupils teach,
Hence Lawyers squabble, and hence Parsons preach:
Hence Epics fire us, Riddles but confuse,
The last weak Effort of a dying Muse.
43
ON THE Birth of his Royal Highness the Prince of WALES.
By Mr. M. FOSTER.
The Night was still, the azure Heav'ns serene,
And Expectation hush'd the solemn Scene;
The Woods forgot to wave, the Winds to roar,
The dimpling Sea roll'd gently to the Shore;
The Moon attentive slop'd her silent Way,
Each anxious Star effus'd a trembling Ray;
And seem'd with Aspect mild prepar'd to shed
Selectest Influence on the genial Bed.
And Expectation hush'd the solemn Scene;
The Woods forgot to wave, the Winds to roar,
The dimpling Sea roll'd gently to the Shore;
The Moon attentive slop'd her silent Way,
Each anxious Star effus'd a trembling Ray;
And seem'd with Aspect mild prepar'd to shed
Selectest Influence on the genial Bed.
But hark, yon Burst of Joy!—ye Britons smile!
Another GEORGE is born to bless your Isle.
See gay Delight the splendid Palace grace!
See ardent Transport paint each loyal Face!
Hark, from the Tower, that emulates the Skies,
What Peals on Peals of gladsome Thunder rise!
Loud Gratulations wake the drowsy Morn,
Which by officious Gales to Heav'n are born:
The Sun with beamy Brightness leaves the Deep,
And pants rejoicing up th' ethereal Steep.
No more pale Lustre in the Orient dawns,
But golden Gladness gilds the blushing Lawns.
See Earth reviv'd, its loveliest Graces wear,
And Nature in her Birthday Robes appear.
Enchanting Music thro' the Forest reigns,
And rapt Attention drinks the jocund Strains.
The Lark on soaring Pinions hails the Day,
The Linnet warbles on the dancing Spray;
Sweet Philomela joins the choral Throng,
Forgetful of her lately ravish'd Young;
Soft Airs of Joy attune her trembling Throat,
Unskill'd before to swell the sprightly Note.
The repercussive Rocks enjoy the Sound,
The Landscape laughs, the Harvest shouts around:
Glad Thames commands his eager Tide to flow
To Father Ocean's coral Courts below,
To bid the Nereids grateful Homage bring,
And hail the Royal Babe, their future King.
While Rapture thus the radiant Ether rends,
See, from the Empyreum swift descends
Britannia's Genius, bright in burnish'd Gold,
Who glories thus the mystic Fates t'unfold.
Another GEORGE is born to bless your Isle.
44
See ardent Transport paint each loyal Face!
Hark, from the Tower, that emulates the Skies,
What Peals on Peals of gladsome Thunder rise!
Loud Gratulations wake the drowsy Morn,
Which by officious Gales to Heav'n are born:
The Sun with beamy Brightness leaves the Deep,
And pants rejoicing up th' ethereal Steep.
No more pale Lustre in the Orient dawns,
But golden Gladness gilds the blushing Lawns.
See Earth reviv'd, its loveliest Graces wear,
And Nature in her Birthday Robes appear.
Enchanting Music thro' the Forest reigns,
And rapt Attention drinks the jocund Strains.
The Lark on soaring Pinions hails the Day,
The Linnet warbles on the dancing Spray;
Sweet Philomela joins the choral Throng,
Forgetful of her lately ravish'd Young;
45
Unskill'd before to swell the sprightly Note.
The repercussive Rocks enjoy the Sound,
The Landscape laughs, the Harvest shouts around:
Glad Thames commands his eager Tide to flow
To Father Ocean's coral Courts below,
To bid the Nereids grateful Homage bring,
And hail the Royal Babe, their future King.
While Rapture thus the radiant Ether rends,
See, from the Empyreum swift descends
Britannia's Genius, bright in burnish'd Gold,
Who glories thus the mystic Fates t'unfold.
“Raise, raise, ye happy Isles, your grateful Voice!
“With Ardour sing, triumphantly rejoice!
“Raise, raise your Voice! the iron Age is fled;
“No more shall Virtue hang the pensive Head;
“Nor black Rebellion baleful Curses breathe,
“And, frantic, doom the best of Kings to Death;
“But hopeless and appall'd in Torment pine,
“To see the Sire in his Descendent shine.
“And when mature in Wisdom, as in Years,
“The Youth his Virtue to each Heart endears,
“No Crouds shall to the purple Judge resort,
“No fell Debates perplex the venal Court;
“The Judge within the Mind, shall ev'ry Cause
“Impartial weigh, and cancel useless Laws;
“No more shall Commerce languish on the Tide,
“But o'er the Seas exulting Navies ride,
“Her various Treasures waft from Coast to Coast,
“'Till ev'ry Climate ev'ry Produce boast.
“Then Man a Life of Innocence shall lead,
“Then Spring perennial deck the verdant Mead;
“Then Peace and Plenty, walking Hand in Hand,
“Shall show'r their Blessings o'er the smiling Land.
“The Mountains white with Flocks, the Vallies crown'd
“With wavy Gold, shall Strains of Joy resound;
“The flow'ry Fields luxuriant Sweets exhale,
“While Health and Pleasure sport in ev'ry Gale;
“Rivers of Milk the Land with Fatness fill,
“And knotty Oaks nectareous Dews distil:
“Each Tree, surcharg'd with Wealth, wide o'er the Plain
“His Arms extending, shall implore the Swain
“To ease him of the Load of luscious Fruit,
“And give his younger Glories Room to shoot.
“No Groan of Anguish shall affright the Grove,
“Plutus no longer lance the Shafts of Love.
“The Fair-one, guiltless of delusive Art,
“Shall ever with her Hand bestow her Heart;
“The faithful Lover scorn the Lures of Gold,
“And each in each a dearer Self behold.
“Thus shall the downy Minutes sweetly fly,
“And thus commence the Age of Exstasy.
“With Ardour sing, triumphantly rejoice!
“Raise, raise your Voice! the iron Age is fled;
“No more shall Virtue hang the pensive Head;
“Nor black Rebellion baleful Curses breathe,
“And, frantic, doom the best of Kings to Death;
46
“To see the Sire in his Descendent shine.
“And when mature in Wisdom, as in Years,
“The Youth his Virtue to each Heart endears,
“No Crouds shall to the purple Judge resort,
“No fell Debates perplex the venal Court;
“The Judge within the Mind, shall ev'ry Cause
“Impartial weigh, and cancel useless Laws;
“No more shall Commerce languish on the Tide,
“But o'er the Seas exulting Navies ride,
“Her various Treasures waft from Coast to Coast,
“'Till ev'ry Climate ev'ry Produce boast.
“Then Man a Life of Innocence shall lead,
“Then Spring perennial deck the verdant Mead;
“Then Peace and Plenty, walking Hand in Hand,
“Shall show'r their Blessings o'er the smiling Land.
“The Mountains white with Flocks, the Vallies crown'd
“With wavy Gold, shall Strains of Joy resound;
47
“While Health and Pleasure sport in ev'ry Gale;
“Rivers of Milk the Land with Fatness fill,
“And knotty Oaks nectareous Dews distil:
“Each Tree, surcharg'd with Wealth, wide o'er the Plain
“His Arms extending, shall implore the Swain
“To ease him of the Load of luscious Fruit,
“And give his younger Glories Room to shoot.
“No Groan of Anguish shall affright the Grove,
“Plutus no longer lance the Shafts of Love.
“The Fair-one, guiltless of delusive Art,
“Shall ever with her Hand bestow her Heart;
“The faithful Lover scorn the Lures of Gold,
“And each in each a dearer Self behold.
“Thus shall the downy Minutes sweetly fly,
“And thus commence the Age of Exstasy.
“Thrice happy Father! O for ever live!
“'Tis thine, a Darling to the World to give;
“'Tis thine, to bid the Buds of Virtue rise,
“Blush into Bloom, and charm admiring Eyes.
“'Tis thine, to see his tender Years essay
“Thy forming Care with Fondness to repay:
“Before the Tongue has learnt his Love t' express,
“His joyous Aspect shall thy Presence bless:
“The longing Look thy parting Steps pursue,
“The gushing Tear recal Thee to his View.
“And when the rip'ning Hand of Time shall spread
“His silver Honours o'er thy rev'rend Head,
“Thou still in Him shalt glow with youthful Flame,
“Enjoy his Triumphs, and partake his Fame.
“'Tis thine, a Darling to the World to give;
48
“Blush into Bloom, and charm admiring Eyes.
“'Tis thine, to see his tender Years essay
“Thy forming Care with Fondness to repay:
“Before the Tongue has learnt his Love t' express,
“His joyous Aspect shall thy Presence bless:
“The longing Look thy parting Steps pursue,
“The gushing Tear recal Thee to his View.
“And when the rip'ning Hand of Time shall spread
“His silver Honours o'er thy rev'rend Head,
“Thou still in Him shalt glow with youthful Flame,
“Enjoy his Triumphs, and partake his Fame.
“Thrice happy Mother of a Child so blest!
“Now, now let Rapture revel in thy Breast;
“Now all Remembrance of thy Pangs beguile;—
“Thy ev'ry Pang shall make a Nation smile.”
“Now, now let Rapture revel in thy Breast;
“Now all Remembrance of thy Pangs beguile;—
“Thy ev'ry Pang shall make a Nation smile.”
49
PSALM I.
By J. CAYLEY, A. M.
I
O happy Man! who, free from Vice,With cautious Fear has trod,
Whom Sinners never cou'd entice
To make a Mock of God.
II
To know his Maker's Will he burnsWith ever new Delight;
By Day the sacred Volume turns,
And meditates by Night.
III
As some fair Tree, whose vig'rous RootIs nurs'd in gen'rous Mold,
Pleas'd, in the Stream surveys its Fruit
All rip'ning into Gold:
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IV
So flourishing, for ever green,With Heav'n's Indulgence blest,
The Friend of Virtue smiles serene,
Of ev'ry Wish possest.
V
Not so th' Ungodly; anxious TheyNo sweet Repose can find;
Like Chaff, by Whirlwinds swept away,
That leaves no Trace behind.
VI
His Judge's Eye how can he bear,Whom conscious Guilt destroys,
How 'mid th' applauded Few appear,
That drink seraphic Joys?
VII
Such as in Goodness, Lord, excel,Are happy in thy Care;
While impious Men are doom'd to dwell
In Darkness and Despair.
51
PSALM VIII.
By ite Same
I
O god, how Worlds on Worlds proclaim,How the high Heav'ns resound thy Name,
Beyond all Glory bright!
Ev'n lisping Babes thy Being bless,
Their Smiles thy Providence confess,
And vindicate thy Might.
II
The Sun, exhaustless Fount of Day,The Moon, the Stars, when I survey
In ceaseless Order move;
Thy Works, thy Wonders, when I see,
Great God! what's Man?—What's Man, that he
Shou'd thus engage thy Love?
52
III
Thou gav'st him Majesty and Grace,An Angel Form, an Angel Face,
Almost an Angel Mind;
Thou gav'st him o'er thy Works to reign,
The Monarchy of Land, and Main,
To Man thou hast assign'd.
IV
Him Beasts, the tame, the wild obey,All Fowl, all Fish, that crowd the Sea,
Or in the Stream delight;
O God, how Worlds on Worlds proclaim,
How the high Heav'ns resound thy Name,
Beyond all Glory bright!
53
PSALM CL.
By the same.
I
O praise the Lord, th' Almighty praise,Who shrin'd in one unclouded Blaze
Of uncreated Light,
Reigns thro' Eternity alone
Majestic on his starry Throne,
Sublime above all Height.
II
'Twas He, who kindled up the Sun,Gave him his radiant Course to run—
Revere the God of Pow'r:
Behold him on his Mercy-Seat,
Supremely good, benignly great—
The God of Love adore.
54
III
Blow, blow the Trumpet strong and cloar;Soft let the Psalt'ry soothe the Ear
With sweetly-warbling Strings;
Let the Drum's rattling Thunder rise;
Let shrilling Clarions pierce the Skies
T' extol the King of Kings.
IV
Let the deep Organ swell his Name;Let Cymbals join the loud Acclaim;
All, all the Chorus raise:
He gave us Breath, that Breath employ
In Songs of Gratitude and Joy,
And live but to his Praise.
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