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May be in every manly grace excel,

Lo! tempestuous winter near
To glad the virgin who deserves so well :, Stains the evening of the year ;
Bleis'd with plain sense, with native humourgay, Gloomy clouds obscure the day,
To rule with prudence, and with pride obey; Nature ceases to be gay;
To kindness fashion', with mild temper fraught, The sweet tenants of the grove
And form’d, if possible, without a fault.

Warble no soft tales of love:
Long may ye live, of mutual love possess'd, Rise, my fair, and bring with thee
Like streams uniting, in each other bless'd); Joy for all, but love for me.
Till Death shall gently call you hence away Where are all those blooming flowers
From life's vain business to the realms of day; That adorn'd my rural bowers
May Death unfelt the common summons give, Dappled pinks, and violets blue,
Aud both, like righteous Enoch, cease to live ; And the tulip's gaudy hue,
Cease from a life beset with cares and pain, Lillies white, and roses red?
And in eternal glories meet again.

All are wither'd, all are dead:
Yes—they hasten'd to decay,

When my Laura went away;

When she comes, again they'll rise,

Blooming where she points her eyes.
Jannary, 1745.

Hark! I hear a sound froin far,

Clanking arms, the din of war,
Come, Laura, joy of rural swains,

Dreadful music to my ear!
O! come, and bless our cheerless plains;

All was peace when you was here.
The skies still drooping mourn in showers,

Now rebellion shakes the land,
No meadows bloom with bright-ey'd flowers,

Murder waves her bloody hand;
No daisies spring, no beeches bud,

High in air their banners fly,
No linnets warble in the wood;

Dreadful tumulis rend the sky:
Cold winter checks with blasts severe

Rise, my fair, and bring with thec
The early-dawning of the year.

Softer, sweeter, harmony;
Come, lovely Laura, haste away,

All my doubts and fears remove,
Your smiles will make the village gay;

Give me freedom, give me love;
When you return, the vernal breeze

Discord when you come will cease,
Will wake the buds, and fan the trees ;

And in my bosom all be peace.
Where-e'er you walk the daisies spring,
The meadows laugh, the linnets sing;
Your eyes our joyless hearts can cheer;
O! haste, and make us happy here.




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July 1745.
Come, ye fair, ambrosial flowers,
Leave your beds, and leave your bowers,
Blooming, beautiful, and rare,
Form a posy for my fair;
Fair, and bright, and blooming be,
Meet for such a nymph as she.
Let the young vermilion rose
A becoming bluslı disclose;
Such as Laura's cheeks display,
When she steals my heart away.
Add carnation's varied hue,
Moisten’d with the morning dew:
To the woodbine's fragrance join
Sprigs of snow-white jessamine.

Add ng more; already I
Shall, alas! with envy die,
Thus to see my rival blest,
Sweetly dying on her breast.

While rosy health abounds in erery breeze,
Smiles in the flowers, and blossoms in the trees,
Matures the fields, and in the fountain flows,
Breathes through all life, and in all nature

Why droops Aurelius by sharp pains opprest,
Whose danger saddens erery virtuous breast
Foough, enough has Heav'n's afflicting hand
With arms and earthquakes terrified the land:
On foreign plains has stream'd the British

And British heroes perish'd in the flood :
Frederick, alas ! the kingdom's justest pride,
Pair in the bloom of all his virtues, died.
Ah! generous master of the candid mind,
Light of the world, and friend of human kind,
Leave us not cause our sorrow's to renew,
Nor tear the falling of the state in you.

· I see, I see conspicious how you stood,
And dauntless crush'd rebellion in the bud;
With Ciceronian energy divine,
Dashing the plots of fraudful Catiline.

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Your righteous zeal the brave Brigantes warmd, Enough has Winter's hand severe

Chastis'd this dreary coast,
Silent they heard, approv'd, united, arm’d.
Ye gales, tbat on the downs of Surry stray,

And chill'd the tender dawning year
Sleep on the Mole', or on the Vandal' play,

With desolating frost : From every flower medicinal that springs,

Give but thy vital beams to play, Waft ba!my fragrance with your temperate

These ice-wrought scenes will melt away ; wings,

And, mix'd in sprightly dance, the blooming

hours The

grace, the glory of the church restore, And save the friend, the father of the poor. Will wake the drowsy Spring, the Spring awake

the flowers. And lo ! our prayers, with fervency preferr’d, Rise sweet as incense, and by Heav'n are heard :

Let Health, gay daughter of the skies, The genial season, with refreshing rains,

On Zephyr's wings descend, Bright-beaming mornings, health-exhaling plains,

And scatter pleasures, as she flies, And pure etherial gales, conspire to heal

Where Surry's downs extend : Our public father, for the public weal.

There Herring wooes her friendly power ; Oh! by kind Providence to Britain given,

There may she all her roses shower; Long may you live, and late revisit Heaven;

To heal that shepherd all her balms einploy, Continue still to bless us with your stay,

So will she sooth our fears, and give a nation joy. Nor wish for Heav'n till we have learnt the way. So by your pattern shall our years be spent

The grateful seasons, circling fast, In sweet tranquillity, and gay content ;

Reviving suns restore, So shall we rise immortal from the dust,

But life's short spring is quickly past,
And gain the blissful kingdoms of the just.

And blooms, alas! no more ;
Then let us, ere by sure decays

We reach the winter of our days,

bi virtue emulate the bless'd above, TO MRS. HERRING.

And like the Spring display benevolence and love,



Since your goodness poetical tribute demands,
Permit the four seasons to kiss your fair hands :

And if in right colours your virtues ( view,
The seasons, dear madam, are emblems of you.
The beams of your eyes, and the bloom of your where Nature's fairest beauties smile,
In the gentle Spring's delicate flow'rets I trace

Hail., gentle Summer, to this isle !
face :

And breathe in every plain;
The bright glowing ardour of Summer I find
Express'd in your friendly, benevolent mind :

"Tis thine to bid each flower display, As bountiful Autumn with plenty is crown'd,

And open to the eye of day Thus calm you distribute your blessings around: The glories of its reign. But with you how shall I cold Winter compare ?

While yon few sheep enjoy the breeze, Your wit is as piercing and keen as the air:

That softly dies upon the trees, Thus you furnish with emblems whenever I sing

And rest beneath the shade ;
Of Winter, or Autumn, or Summer, or Spring.

This pipe, which Damon gave, shall raise
Its rural notes to sing thy praise,

And ask the Muse's aid.




Diana's ear shall catch the sound,
And all the nymphs that sport around

The vale, or upland lawn;
The nymphs, that o'er the mountain's brow
Pursue the lightly-bounding roe,

Or chase the flying fawn.

March 12, 1754.
Bright god of day, whose genial power

Revives the buried seed;
That spreads with foilage every bower,

With verdure every mead;
Bid all thy vernal breezes fly,

Diffusing mildness through the sky; Give the soft season to our drooping plains, Sprinkled with rosy dews, and salutary rains.

Two rivers in Surry, thus described by Mr.
Pope :

The blue, transparent Vandalis appears,
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving food.

Ev'u now, perchance, some cool retreat
Defends the lovely train !rom heat,

And Phoebus' noontide beam;
Perchance they twine the flowery crown
On beds of roses, soft as down,

Beside the winding stream.
Delightful season! every mead
With thy fair robe of plenty spread,

To thee that plenty owes;
The laughing fields with joy declare,
And whisper all in reason's ear,

From whence that plenty flows.

the year.

Happy the man whose vessel glides

Lo! Winter comes, in fogs array'd, Safe and unhurt by passion's tides,

With ice and spangled dews; Nor courts the gusts of praise !

To dews, and fogs, and storms, be paid He sails with even, steady pace,

The tribute of the Muse. While virtue's full-blown beauties grace

Each flowery carpet Nature spread
The summer of his days.

Is vanish'd from the eye;
Where'er unhappy lovers tread,

No Philomel is nigh.

(For well I ween her plaintive note

Can soothing ease impart ;
TO MR. HAYMAN, THE PAINTER. The little warblings of her throat

Relieve the wounded heart.)
October 1754.

No blushing rose unfolds its bloom,
Yer once more, glorious god of day,

No tender lilies blow,
While beams thine orb serene,

To scent the air with rich perfume,
O let me warbling court thy stay

Or grace Lucinda's brow.
To gild the fading scene !
Thy rays invigorate the Spring,

Th' indulgent Father who protects

The wretched and the poor ;
Bright Summer to perfection bring,
The cold inclemency of Winter cherr,

With the same gracious care directs
And make th’ Autumnal months the mildest of

The sparrow to our door.

Dark, scowling tempests rend the skies
Ere yet the russet foliage fall,

And clouds obscure the day;
I'll climb the nountain's brow,

His genial warmth the Sun denies,
My friend, my Hayman, at thy call,

And sheds a fainter ray.
To view the scene below:

Yet blame we not the troubled air,
How sweetly pleasing to behold

Or seek defects to find; Forests of vegetable gold !

[tween For Power Omnipotent is there, How mix'd the many chequer'd shades be- And walks upon the wind. The tawny, mellowing hue, and the gay vivid

Hail every pair whom love unites

In wedlock's pleasing ties ;
How splendid all the sky! how still! That endless source of pure delights,
How mild the dying gale !

That blessing to the wise!
How soft the whispers of the rill
That winds along the vale!

Though yon pale orb no warmth beştows,

And storms united meet; So tranquil Nature's works appear,

The fame of love and friendship glows
It seems the Sabbath of the year:

With unextinguish'd heat.
As if, the Summer's labour past, she chose
This season's sober calm for blandishing repose.

Such is of well-spent life the time,
When busy days are past;

Man, verging gradual from his prime,
Meets sacred peace at last :

His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er,

CANTERBURY. And Summer's full-blown pride no more, l'e gains pacific Autumn, mild and bland,

Thanks to the generous hand that plac'd me And dauntless braves the stroke of Winter's pal

here, sy'd band.

Fast by the fountains of the silver Cray,

Who leading to the Thames his tribute clear,
Por yet a while, a little while,

Through the still valley winds his secret way.
Involv'd in wintry gloom,
And lo! another spring shall smile,

Yet from his lowly bed with transport sees
A spring eternal bloom :

In fair exposure noblest villas rise,
Then shall he shine, a glorious guest,

Hamlets embosom'd deep in antient trees,
In the bright mansions of the blest,

And spires that point with reverence to the

Where due rewards on virtue are bestow'd,
And reap the golden fruits of what his autumn o lovely dale! luxuriant with delight!

O woodland hills ! that gently rising swell;
O streams! whose murmurs soft repose invite;

Where peace and joy and rich abundance

dwell :

How shall my slender reed your praise resound BY A GENTLEMAN OF CAMBRIDGE.

In numbers worthy of the polish'd ear? From mountains of eternal snow,

What powers of strong expression can be found And Zembla's dreary plains ;

To thank the generous hand that plac'd me Where the bleak winds for ever blow,

here: And frost for ever reigns ;

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That gave each requisite of blissful life;

With freedom's voice to wake the slumbering Sweet leisure in sequester'd shades of Kent,

age, The softening virtues of a faithful wife,

To cheer fair merit, prowess to advance, And competence well sorted with coutent ? Dauntless to rise, and scourge with generous rage For these, if I forget my patron's praise,

The high-plum'd pride and perfidy of France. While bright ideas dance upon my mind, Alas! no longer burns the glorious flame: Ne'er may these eyes behold auspicious days, The patriot passion animates no more ; May friends prove faithless, and the Muse But, like the whirling eddy, some low aim unkind.

Absorbs alike the great, the rich, the poor. May 1756.

Not so, when wise Aurelius o'er the north

Shed the mild influence of his pastoral care,

The madness of rebellion issuing forth,

He stemm'd the torrent of the rising war.

Behold bim! with his country's weal inspir'd, AN ELEGY.

Before the martial sons of Ebor stand,

Fair in the robe of eloquence attir'd, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS HERRING, D D.

In act to speak, he waves the graceful hand : LATE LORD ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.

Silent as evening, lo! the listening throng, Ruicquid ex illo amavimus, quicquid mirati su- While from his lips the glowing periods fall, mus, manet mansurumque est in animis ho

Drink sweet persuasion streaming from his minum, in æternitate temporum, famâ re

tongue, Tacit. Vit. Agric.

And the firm chain of concord binds them all Fast by the fountains of the silver Cray' As some large river, gentle, strong, and deep,

Encircled deep with weeping willows round, Winds bis smooth volumes o'er the wide cam0! let me sorrowing pass the pensive day,

paign, And wake my reed to many a plaintive sound. Then forceful flows, and with resistless sweep, For good Aurelius (now alas! no more)

Rolls, in his strength collected, to the main : Sighs follow sighs, and tears to tears succeed; Thus the good prelate, in his country's cause, Him shall the Muse in tenderest notes deplore, Pour'd the full tide of eloquence along ; For oft he tun'd to melody my reed.

As erst Tyrtæus gain'd divine applause, How was I late by bis indulgence blest,

Who fir'd the Spartans with heroic song. Cheer'd with his smiles, and by his precepts | But when religious truths his bosom warm’d, taught !

Faith, hope, repentance, and eternal love,
My fancy deem'd him some angelic guest, With such pathetic energy he charm’d,
Some Heaven-sent guide, with blissful tidings He rais'd our souls to Paradise above.

The holy city's adamantine gate
Mild was his aspect, full of truth and grace, On golden hinge he open’d to our view;

Temper'd with dignity and lively sense ; Unravell’d every path, perplex'd and strait, Sweetness and candour beam'd upon his face, And gave to willing minds the safe-conducting Emblems of love and large benevolence.

clew. Yet never useless slept those virtues fair, For God's Messiah was his chosen guide; Nor languish'd unexerted in the mind;

And well the sacred lore he understood, Secret as thought, yet unconfin'd as air, And well the precept, sent from Heaven, apply'd,

He dealt his bounties out to all mankind. For evil meekly recompensing good.” How will the poor, alas! now truly poor, Thus mild, thus humble, in the bighest state, Bewail their generous benefactor dead ?

The “onething needful'' was his sole regard Who daily, from bis hospitable door,

Belov'd, and blamelesss he prolong'd his date The naked cloth'd, and gave the hungry By acts of goodness, which theinselves reward. bread.

To him the bed of sickness gave no pain; To sick and orphans duly sent relief,

For, trusting oniy in th’ Almighty King, Was feet and eyes to cripples and the blind, He look'd on dissolution as his gain; Sooth'd all the suffering fainily of grief,

No terrours had the grave, and death no sting. And pour'd sweet balsam on the wounded mind.

Ah! Muse, forbear that last sad scene to draw How will the nation their lost guardian mourn? This bomage, due to virtue, let me pay,

Lo! pale-ey'd Science fix'd in grief appears; These heart-sprung tears, inspir'd by filial awe, The drooping Arts, reclining on his urn,

These nurgbers warbled to the silver Cray.
Lament, and every Muse dissolves in tears.
Genius of Britain! search the kingdom round,

May, 1757.
Ere yet the strict inquiry be too late;
What bold, unblemish'd patriot can be found',
To rouse the virtues of a languid state?

"A river in Kent.
• This poem was wrote in 1757.

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With jny, great prince, your happy subjects

A better Titus now reviv'd in you; (view. ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOST SACRED MAJESTY

Of gentler nature, and of nobler blood,

Whose only study is your people's good : KING GEORGE THE SECOND.

For you (so truly is your heart benign)

To heathen virtues christian graces join. Ah, fatal hour!--we must at last resign

O may Heaven's providence around you wait, Farewel, great hero of the Brunswick line!

And bless you with a longer, happier date ; For valour much, for virtue more renown'd,

Then will your virtue all its powers display, With wisdom honour'd, and with glory crown'd.

And noble deeds distinguish every day; 'Twas thy bless'd lot a happy reign to close,

Joys unallay'd will sweetly fill your breast, And die serene, triumphant o'er thy foes;

Your people blessing. by your people blest; To see the faithless, vain insulting Gaul,

Then will the rage of rancorous discord cease, Like proud Goliath, nodding to his fall;

The drooping arts revive, and all the world have In chains the sons of tyranny to bind, And vindicate the rights of human kind.

peace. No brighter crown than Britain's God could

November 15, 1760.
To grace the monarch, till he ceas'd to live;
Then gave him, to reward his virtuous strife,

A heavenly kingdom, and a crown of life.
October 20, 1760.



Beneath a beech's bowery shade TO HIS MOST SACRED MAJESTY Damon in musing mood was laid, ON HIS ACCESSION.

A brook soft-dimpling by his side,

Thus echo, as be sung, reply'd:
Jam nova progenies cælo dimittitur alto. VIRG. «Sweet is the breath of rosy morn,

Soft melody the sky-lark trills,
When now the sad solemnity is o'er,

Bright are the dew-drops on the thorn, And death-denouncing bells are heard no niore, Fresh are the zephyrs on the hills, Nor pausing cannou in loud notes declare

Pure are the fountains in the vale below, A nation's grief, and rend the troubled air;

And fair the flowers that on their borders blow: Deign, mighty prince, these gentler sounds to Yet neither breath of roseate morn, hear:

Nor wild notes which the sky-lark trills, Oh! were they worthy of the sovereign's ear,

Nor dew.drops glittering on the thorn, The Muse should greet Britannia's blissful isle, Nor the fresh zephyrs of the hills, Where crown'd with liberty the graces smile; Nor streams that musically-murmuring flow, Where the pleas'd halcyon builds her tranquil Nor towers that on their mossy margins grow, nest,

Can any joy suggest No storms disturb her, and no wars molest:

But to the temper'd breast, For still fair peace and plenty here remainid,

Where virtue's animating ray While George, the venerable monarch, reign'd. Mlumines every golden day, One generation pass'd secure away,

Beams on the mind, and makes all nature gay." “ Wise oy his rules, and happy by his sway;" Now cold in death the much-lov'd hero lies, His soul unbodied seeks her native skies: The living laurels which his temples crown'd

THE LORD'S PRAYER. Strike root, and shade bis funeral pile around.

Father of all, whose throne illumines Heaven, As when the Sun, bright ruler of the year,

All honour to thy holy name be given. Through glowing Cancer rolls his golden sphere,

l'hy gracious kingdom come: thy righteous will He gains new vigour as his orb declives,

Let men on Earth as saints in Heaven fulfil. And at the goal with double lustre shines : In splendour thusgreat George's reign surpast,

Give us this day the bread by which we live:

As we onr«lebtors, thou our debts forgive, Bright beam'd each year, but brightest far the last :

Let not temptation lead us into woe: Where-ever waves could roll, or breezes blow,

Keep us from sin, and our infernal foe. His fleet pour'd ruin on the faithless foe: [hurl'd, Thy power, thy glory, is for evermore.

For thy supreme dominion we adore; France saw, appall'd, the dreadful vengeance

Amen. And own'd him monarch of her western world. But now, alas! see pale Britannia mourn, Anil all her sons lamenting o'er his urn. Thus when Vespasian died, imperial Rome

DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER Wish cumious tears bedew'd the patriot's toinb;

But soon o’er sorrow bright-ey'd joy prevailid,
When Titus her lov'd emperor she haild;

Titus, a blessing to the world Jesign'd,

The flow'r of Israel withers on the plain; The darling and delight of human-kind.

How are the mighty on the mountains slain!


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