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Hence, all ye impious slaves, that bow
At one wide view his eye surveys
His works, in every distant clime;
He shifts the seasons, months, and days, And hence, ye gods, who to a crime your spurious The short-liv'd offspring of revolving Time; beings owe!
By turns they die, by turns are born. But hear, O Heaven, and Earth, and Seas profound ! Now cheerful Spring the circle leads, Hear, ye fathom'd Deeps below,
And strows with flowers the smiling meads; And let your echoing vaults repeat the sound; Gay Summer next, whom russet robes adorn, Let Nature, trembling all around,
And waving fields of yellow corn; Attend her Master's awful name,
Then Autumn, who with lavish stores the lap of From whom Heaven, Earth, and Seas, and all the Nature spreads; wide Creation came.
Decrepit Winter, laggard in the dance,
(Like feeble Age oppress'd with pain) He spoke the great command; and Light, A heavy season does maintain, Heaven's eldest-born and fairest child,
With driving snows, and winds, and rain;
The sons of Morning, on the wing,
But who, thou great Ador'd! who can withstand When, from the unbounded vacuous space,
The terrours of thy lifted hand, A beauteous rising World they saw,
When, long provok'd, thy wrath awakes, When Nature show'd her yet unfinish'd face,
And conscious Nature to her centre shakes? And Motion took th' establish'd law
Rais'd by thy voice, the thunder flies, To roll the various globes on high;
Hurling pale Pear and wild Confusion round, When Time was taught his infant wings to try,
How dreadful is th' inimitable sound, And from the barrier sprung to his appointed
The shock of Earth and Seas, and labour of the
Then where's Ambition's haughty crest? Supreme, Almighty, still the same!
Where the gay head of wanton Pride? 'Tis he, the great inspiring Mind,
See! tyrants fall, and wish the opening ground, *That animates and moves this universal frame, Would take them quick to shades of rest, Present at once in all, and by no place confin'd. And in their common parent's breast, Not Heaven itself can bound his sway;
From thee, their bury'd forms for ever hide! Beyond th' untravell'd limits of the sky,
In vain-for all the elements conspire, Invisible to mortal eye,
The shatter'd Earth, the rushing Sea, He dwells in uncreated day.
Tempestuous Air, and raging Fire, Without beginning, without end; 'tis he
To punish vile mankind, and fight for thee; That fiils th' unmeasurd growing orb of vast im- Nor Death itself can intercept the blow, mensity.
Eternal is the guilt, and without end the woe
Once gods of Earth, the living destinies,
That made a hundred nations bow ! And the chaf’d Ocean proudly swells in vain, Where's your extent of empire now! His voice reclaims th' impetuous roar;
Say, where preserv'd your phantom Glory lies In murinuring tides th'abated billows fly,
Can brass the fleeting thing secure? And the spent tempest dies upon the shore.
Enshrin'd in temples does it stay? The meteor world is his, Heaven's wintry store, Or in huge amphitheatres endure The moulded hail, the feather'd snow;
The rage of rolling Time, and scorn decay? The summer breeze, the soft refreshing shower, Ah, no! the mouldering monuments of Fame The loose divided cloud, and many-colour'd bow; Your vain deluded hopes betray, The crooked lightning darts around,
Nor show th' ambitious founder's name, His sovereign orders to fulfil;
Mix'd with yourselves in the same mass of clay, The shooting flame obeys th' Eternal will,
Launch'd from his hand, instructed where to kill, Proceed, my Muse! Time's wasting thread pursue, Or rive the mountain oak, or blast th' unshelter'd
And see, at last, th' unravell'd clue,
When cities sink, and kingdoms are no more, ground.
And weary Nature shall her work give o'er. Yet, pleas'd to bless, indulgent to supply,
· Behold th' Almighty Judge on high! He, with a father's tender care,
See in his hand the book of Fate ! Supports the numerous family
Myriads of spirits fill the sky That peoples earth, and sea, and air.
Tattend, with dread solemnity, From Nature's giant race, th' enormous elephant, The World's last scene, and Time's concluding Down to the insect worm and creeping ant;
date. From th' eagle, sovereign of the sky,
The feeble race of short-livid Vanity, * To each inferior feather'd brood;
And sickly Pomp, at once shall die! From crowns and purple majesty,
Foul Guilt to midnight caves will shrink away, To humble shepherds on the plain,
Look back, and tremble in her flight, liis hand unseen, divides to all their food,
And curse at Heaven's pursuing light, And the whole world of life sustains.
Surrounded with the vengeance of that day,
How will you then, ye impious, 'scape your doom, When tlırice six hundred times the circling Suz Self-judg'd, abandon'd, overcome?
His annual race shall through the Zodiac run, Your clouds of painted bliss shall melt before your An'isle remote his monument shall rear, sight.
And every generous Briton pay a tear:”
Nor hope more solid bliss t' obtain,
ADVICE TO MR. POPE,
1714. But see where the mild Sovereign sits prepard His better subjects to reward!
0 'Thou, who with a happy genius born, Where am I now! what power divine
Canst tuneful verse in flowing numbers turn, Transports me! what immortal splendours shine! Crown'd on thy Windsor's plains with early bars,
Torrents of glory that oppress the sight! Be early wise, nor trust to barren praise. What joys, celestial King! thy throne surround! Blind was the bard that sung Achilles' rage, The Sun, who, with thy borrow'd bcams so bright,
He sug, and begg'd, and curs'd th' ungiving age: Sees not his peer in all the starry round,
If Britain bis translated song would hear, Would here, diminish’d, fade away,
First take the gold-then charm the listening tar; Like his pale sister of the night,
So shall thy father Homer smile to see When she resigns her delegated light,
His pension paid-though late, and paid to thee Lost in the blaze of day. Here wonder only can take place;
Then, Muse, th' adventurous flight forbear! These mystic scenes thou canst no farther trace; Hope may come boundless future bliss embrace,
THE MEMORY OF MILTON. But what, or when, or how, or where,
HOMER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIMSELF, UNDER THE CH ** Are mazes all, which Fancy runs in vain;
RACTER OF DEMODOCHUS THE MUSICIAN, AT Nor can the narrow cells of human brain
FEAST OF KING ALCINOUS. The vast immeasurable thought contain.
FROM THE EIGHTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEYS.
His various lot, she biendid good with ill;
Depriv’d him of his eyes, but did impart
ON HIS TRAGEDY OF CATO.
WITH THE TRAGEDY OF CATO,
Thougy Cato shines in Virgil's epic song,
TO A LADY,
Two shining maids this happy work displays;
Fach mores our rapture, both divide our praise ; And awful march before our ravish'd eyes;
In Marcja, we her godlike father trace; We hear his voice, asserting Virtue's cause;
While Lucia triumphis with each softer grace. His fate, renew'd, our deep attention draws,
One strikes with awe, and one gives chaste delight: Excites, by turns, our various hopes and fears,
That bright as lightning, this serene as light. And all the patriot in thy scene appears.
Yet by the Muse the shadow'd forins were wrought,
And both are creatures of the poet's thought. On Tyber's bank thy thought was first inspir'd;
In her that animates these lines, we view 'Twas there, to some indulgent grove retird,
The wonder greater, the description true; Rome's ancient fortunes rolling in thy mind,
Each living virtue, every grace combind, Thy happy Muse this manly work design'd:
And Marcia's worth with Lucia's sweetness join'd Or, in a dream, thou saw'st Rome's genius stand, And, leading Cato in his sacred hand,
Had she been born ally'd to Cato's name, Toint out th’immortal subject of thy lays,
Numidia's prince had felt a real fame; And ask this labour to record his praise.
And pouring his resistless troops from far,
With bolder deeds had turn'd the doubtful war; 'Tis done the hero lives and charms our 'age! Cæsar had fled before his conquering arms, While nobler morals grace the British stage. And Roman Muscs sung her beauty's charms Great Shakespeare's ghost, the solemn strain to
hear, (Methinks I see the laureld shade appear!) Will hover o'er the scene, and, wondering, view
A FRAGMENT. His favourite Brutus rival'd thus by you. Such Roman greatness in each action shines, PROMISCUOUS crowds to worthless riches born, Such Roman eloquence adorns your lines,
Thy pencil paints, 'tis true, yet paints with scoru. That sure the Sibyls books this year foretold, Sornetimes the fool, by Nature left half-made, And in some mystic leaf was found enroll’d, Mov d by some happy instinct, asks thy aid, “ Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Afric's shore, To give his face to reason some pretence, Nor in her sands thy Cato's tomb explore! And raise his looks with supplemental senses
SERENATA FOR TWO VOICES,
IN LIBRO PRIMO EPISTOLARUM.
Incipe. Vivendi rectè qui prorogat huram,
Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis : at ille
Labitur & labetur in omne volubilis ævum.
To-MORROW cheats us all. Why dost thou stay In melodious union joining,
And leare undone what should be done to day? Best the wondrous joys can tell,
Begin--the present minute's in thy power ;
But still t adjourn, and wait a fitter hour,
Is like the clown, who at some river's side
Will all ere long be past-Fool! not to know
It still has flow'd the same, and will for ever flow. Well may the Arts a trophy raise,
Music grows sweeter in her praise,
ON A COLLAR
PRESENTED FOR HAPPY CILL, 1712.
Thow little farourite of the fair!
When thou these golden ban is shalt wear, The listening Muses, all around her,
The hand that binds them softly kiss, Think 'tis Phabus' strains they hear:
With conscious joy, and own thy bliss. Ar Cupid, drawing near to wound her,
Proud of his chain, who would not be
A slave, to gain her smiles, like thee?
THE CHARACTER OF THE
LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH HOLLES, Behold the happy conquest of her eyes, A hero is the glorious prize!
1712-13. In courts, in camps, through distant realms reCleander comes-- Victoria, see, [nown'd,
Suct early wisdom, such a lovely face, He comes, with British honour crown'd;
Such modest greatness, such attractive grace; Lore leads his cager steps to thee.
Wit, beauty, goorlness, charity, and truth,
The riper sense of age, the bloom of youth!
Whence is it, that in one fair piece we find
These various beauties of the female kind : The fair his fame approves.
Sure but in one such different charms agree, Gunzenting blushes warm her cheeks,
And Henrietta is that phenix-she. She smiles,-she yields,--she loves.
TRUTI, HONOUR, HONESTY.
THE MOTTO CHOSEN BY THE RIGHT HON, THL
Now Hymen at the altar stands,
Its magic sound
LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH HOLLES.
I FOICE. The swain his nymph possessing,
The nymph her swain caressing, 1 and 2. Shall still improve the blessing.
For ever kind and true.
1 This lady, also celebrated by Mr. Prior in a beautiful oce, called Colin's Mistake, was afterwards married to Edward earl of Oxford, and was mother of the present dutchess dowager of Porto lande
Fair Honour, next in beauty and in grace,
Yet stone and brass our hopes betray, Shines in her turn, and claims the second place; Age steals the mimic forms and characters away. She fills the well-born soul with noble fires,
In vain, O Egypt, to the wondering skies, And generous thoughts and godlike acts inspires. With giant pride, thy pyramids arise; Then Honesty, with native air, succeeds,
Whate'er their vast and gloomy vaults contain, Plain is her look, unartful are her deeds;
No names distinct of their great dead remain. And, just alike to friends and foes, she draws
Beneath the mass confus'), iu heaps thy monarchs The bounds of right and wrong, nor errs from equal
Unknown, and blended in mortality. [lie, laws.
To Death ourselves and all our works we owe. From Hearen this scale of virtne thus descends
But is there nought, ( Muse, can save By just degrees, and thy full choice defends.
Our memories from larkness and the grave, So when, in visionary trains, by night
And some short after-life bestow ? Attending angels bless'd good Jacob's sight,
“ That task is mine," the Muse replies, The mystic ladder thus appear'd to rise',
And, hark! she tunes the sacred lyre! Its foot on earth, its summit in the skies.
Verse is the last of human works that dies,
When Virtue does the song inspire.
Pause from immortal joys awhile
To hear, and gracious, with a smile,
The dedicated numbers own;
Say, how in thy life's scanty space,
So short a space, so wondrous bright,
Bright as a summer's day, short as a summer's night, Hear us, O God, this joyful day!
Could'st thou find room for every crowded grace? Whole natjons join their voice,
As if thy thrifty soul foreknew, To thee united thanks to pay,
Like a wise envoy, Heaven's intent,
Soon to recall whom it had sent, And in thy strength rejoice.
And all its task resolv'd at once to do. For led by thee, O King of Kings!
Or wert thou but a traveller below, Our sovereign George we sce;
That hither didst awhile repair, Thy hand the royal blessing brings,
Curious our customs and our laws to know? He comes, he reigns, by thee!
And, sickening in our grosser air,
And tirid of vain repeated sights, Plenteous of grace, pour from above
Our foolish cares, our false delights, Thy favours on his head;
Back to thy native seats would'st go? Truth, Mercy, Righteousness, and Love,
Oh! since to us thou wilt no more return, As guards around himn spread.
Permit thy friends, the faithful fow, With length of days, and glory crown'd,
Who best thy numerous virtues knew,
Themselves, not thee, to mourn.
Now, pensive Muse, enlarge thy flight!
Balls, a fair structure, graceful stands!
And from yon verdant rising brow
Sees Hertford's ancient town, and lands,
Where Nature's hand, in slow meanders, leads MRS. ELIZABETH HUGHES,
The Lee's clear stream its course to flow LATE WIFE OF
Through flowery vales, and moisten’d meads,
And far around in beauteous prospects spreads EDWARD HUGHES, ESQ.
Her map of plenty all below.
AND DAUGHTER OF RICHARD HARRISON, ESQ. OF Eliza's soul, born first above,
Descended to an humbler birth,
And with a mortal's frailties strove.
So, on some towering peak that meets the sky, See! how those dropping monuments decay !
When missive Seraphs downward fly,
They stop, and for awhile alight,
Put off their rays celestial-bright, With a wise scorn their mouldering dust survey.
Then take some milder form familiar to our eye, Their tombs are rais'd from dust as well as they; For see! to dust they both return,
Swiftly her infant virtues grew :
Water'd hy Heaven's peculiar care,
Her morning bloon was doubly fair,
Like Summer's day-break, when we see To make us for a space ourselver survive;
The fresh-iropp'd stores of rosy dew In Parian stone we proudly breathe again,
(Transparent beauties of the daun) Or seen in ligur'd brass to live
Spread v'er the grass their cobreb-faus,
TO THE MEMORY OF
Or hang moist pearls on every tree.
Send me to Whigs as true and hearty, Pleas'd with the lovely sight, awhile
As ever pity'd poor Maccarty; Her friends behold, and joyful smile,
Let Townshend, Sunderland, be there, Not think the Sun's exhaling ray
Or Robin Walpole in the chair; WiH change the scene ere noon of day, Or send me to a club of Tories, Dry up the glistering drops, and draw those dews That damn and curse at Marlborough's glor'es. away.
And drink-but sure none such there are !
The Devil, the pope, and rebel Mar; Yet first, to fill her orb of life,
Yet still my loyalty I'll boast, Behold, in each relation dear,
King George shall ever be iny toast; The pious saint, the duteous child appear, l'nbrib'd his glorious cause I'll own, The tender sister, and the faithful wife.
And fearless scorn each traitor's frown.
l'nite in bliss, in grief divide
A FR.1GMENT. Perhaps may start, and seem to say, O say, ye saints, who sbine in realms above, “ That short-liv'd year was but a day!”
And tune your harps to sing eternal love, Forbcar-nor fruitless sorrowings now employ, When shall my voice attain your high degree; Think she was lent awhile, not given,
When shall my soul, froin clouds of sorrow free, (Such was th' appointed will of Heaven) Hear your celestial song, and aid the harmony? Then, grateful, call that year an age of virtuous
APOLLO AND DAPHNE.
AN ALLUSION TO HORACE.
SET TO MUSIC BY DR. PT PUSCH.
AND PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL IN DRURY
Protinus alter amat; fugit altera nomen amantis.
SCENE, THE VALLEY OF TEMPE, IN THESSALY.
APOLLO AND DAPHNE.
THE FIRST SCENE IS A RIVER.
PRINTED AT THE BREAKING OUT OF THE REBELLION
IN THE YEAR 1715.
If o'er St. James's park he stray,
Place me among a hundred spies,
Pencus, a river-god, appears on a bed of rushes,
leaning on his urn. He rises and comes forward,
His daughter's coyness and disdain?
I hear the sighs of slighted love;
Why ever cruel, Daphne, why?
Hear me, thy father and thy friend,