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That gave each requisite of blissful life; 1 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. AURELIUS:
Behold him! 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, DD. | 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 bo
Drink sweet persuasion streaming from his minum, in æternitate teinporum, famâ re
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, I 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 his 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. franght.
The holy city's adamantine gate
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 upexerted in the mind;
And well the sacred lore be 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 his hospitable door,
Belov'd, and blamelesss he prolong'd his date' The naked cloth’d, and gave the hungry By acts of goodness, which themselves reward, bread.
To him the bed of sickness gave no paio;
For, trusting only in th’ Almighty King,
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 homage, 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.
"A river in Kent.
With joy, 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'n, and with glory crown'd.
And noble deeds distinguish every day; 'Twas thy bless'd lot a happy reign to close,
Joys upallay'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 raicorous 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.
A PARODY ON A PASSAGE IN
MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.
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 he sung, reply'd : Jam nova progenies coelo dimittitur alto. Virg.
“Sweet is the breath of rosy morn,
Soft melody the sky-lark trills, WHEN now the sad solemnity is ver,
Bright are the dew-drops on the thorn, And deau-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 cruwp'd with liberty the graces smile;
| Nor streams that musically-murmuring flow, Where the pleas d halcyon builds her tranquil Nor flowers that on their mossy margins grow,
nest, No storms disturb her, and no wars molest:
Can any joy suggest
But to the temper'd breast, For still fair peace and plenty here remain'd,
Where virtue's animating ray While George, the venerable monarch, reign'd,
Illumines every golden day, One generation pass'd secure away,
Beams on the mind, and makes all nature gay."
THE LORD'S PRAYER.
Father of all, whose throne illumines Heaven, Through glowing Cancer rolls his golden sphere,
All honour to thy holy name be given. lle gains new vigour as his orb declines,
Thy gracious kingdom come: thy righteous will And at the goal with double lustre shines :
Let men on Earth as saints in Heaven fulfil. In splendour thus great George's reign surpast,
Give us this day the bread by which we live: Brighi beam'd each year, but brightest far the
As we onr «lebtors, thou our debts forgive. last:
Let not temptation lead us into woe: Where-ever waves could roll, or breezes blow,
Keep us from sin, and our ipfernal foe. His fleet pour'd ruin on the faithless foe: [hurl'd,
For thy supreme dominion we adore; France saw, appallid, the dreadful vengeance
Thy power, thy glory, is for evermore. And own'd him monarch of her western world.
Amen. But now, alas ! sce pale Britannia mourn, And all her sons lamenting o'er his urn.
Thus when Vespasian died, imperial Rome DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER With ounious tears bedew'd the patriot's tomb:
SAUL AND JONATHAN. But soon o'er sorrow bright-ey'd joy prevail'd, When Titus her lov'd emperor she hailid;
SAMUEL, BOOK 11. CHAPTER I. Titus, a blessing to the world design'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!
In Gath, ah! never this dishonour name,
| Ere broke the pitcher at the fountful heart, Nor in the streets of Askelon proclaim;
Or life's wheel shiver'd, and the soul depart, Lest the sad tidings of our country's woe
Then shall the dust to native earth be given, Cause triumph to the daughters of the foe. | The soul shall soar sublime, and wing its way to May Heav'n, Gilboa, on thy heights ne'er pour
A GOOD WIFE.
sign'd, The shield of Saul was basely left behind.
FROM PROVERBS, Chapter xxxi. Thy bow, 0 Jonathan, oft strew'd the plain More precious far than rubies, who can find With carcasses of valiant heroes slain;
A wife embellished with a virtuous mind: Thy sword, O Saul, ne'er left its sheath in vain. In her securely, as his better part, Blest pair! whom love with sweetest concord tied, Her happy husband cheerful rests his heart : Whom glory join'd, and death cou'd not divide. With such a lovely partner of his toil Dreadful through all the war they muv'd along, His goods increase without the need of spoil. Swift as the eagle, as the lion strong. [drest Bless'd in the friendship of his faithful wife, Weep, weep for Saul, ye maids, whose bounty He steers through all vicissitudes of life. Israel's fair daughters in the scarlet vest;
Well pleas'd she labours, nor disdains to cull Who gave you gold and pearls your robes to The textile flax, or weave the twisted wool. deck,
Rich as the merchant ships that crowd the And rings and jewels for your hands and neck.
And to her damsels separate tasks assigns :
With care she views it, and with prudence buys; Thy lore was wondrous, soothing all my care, And with the gains which Heaven to wisdom Passing the fond affection of the fair.
grants, How are the mighty on the mountains slain ! A vineyard of delicious grapes she plants. And all the instruments of battle vain!. Inurd to toils she strength and sweetness joins,
Strength is the graceful girdle of her loins.
With joy her goodly merchandise she views, : THE PICTURE OF OLD-AGE,
And oft till morn her pleasing work pursues.
The spindle twirls obedient to her tread, PARAPHRASED FROM THE SEVEN FIRST VERSES OP
Round rolls the wheel, and spins the ductile
Benignant from her ever-open door [thread. THE TWELFTH CHAPTER OF ECCLESIASTES.
She feeds the hungry, and relieves the poor. My son, attentive hear the voice of truth; Nor frost nor snow her family molest, Remember thy Creator in thy youth,
For all her household are in scarlet drest. Ere days of pale adversity appear,
Resplendent robes are by her husband wom, And age and sorrow fill the gloomy year, | Her limbs fine purple and rich silks adorn : When wearied with vexation thou shalt say, For wisdom fam'd, for probity renown'd, “No rest hy night I know, no joy by day;" He sits in council with bright honour crown'd. Ere the bright soul's enlighten'd pow'rs wax frail, To weave rich girdles is her softer care, (wear. Ere reason, memory, and fancy fail,
Which merchants buy, and mighty monarchs But care succeeds to care, and pain to pain, With strength and honour she herself arrays, As clonds urge clouds, returning after rain: And joy will bless her in the latter days. Ere yet the arms unnery'd and feeble grow, Wise are her words, her serse divinely strong, The weak legs tremble, and the loose knees bow; For kindness is the tenour of her tongue. Ere yet the grinding of the teeth is o'er,
Fair rule and order in her mansion dwell, And the dim eyes behold the Sup no more; She eats with temperance what she earns so well, Ere yet the pallid lips forget to speak,
Rich in good works her children call her blest, The gums are toothless, and the voice is weak; And thus her husband speaks his inmost breast: Restless he rises when the lark he hears,
“ To Eve's fair daughters various virtues fall, Yet sweetest music fails to charm his ears. But thou, lov'd charmer, hast excell'd them all." A stone, or hillock, turns his giddy brain,
Smiles oft are fraudful, beauty soon decays,
The seer then sooth'd him with this calm reply; 11. Samuel, Chap. xii.
“ Thy sin is pardon'd, and thou shall not die."
Thus may we clearly see each secret sin, To Israel's king thus spoke the holy seer: Warn’d by the faithful monitor within : “O mighty monarch, fam'd for wisdom, hear | Thus may we, blest with bounteous grace froin While to my lord a tale of woe I tell:
Like Judah's king repent, and be forgiven.
TAE SONG OF DEBORAH.
From Edom when th' Almighty tvok his way, And drank the beverage of his milky bowl; “ On Cherub, and on Cherubim he rode," (God: Then lightly-sportful skipt, and, tir'd with play, | The trembling Earth proclaim'd th’approach of Dear as a daughter in his bosom lay.
| The heavens dissolv'd, the clouds in copious A traveller of no ignoble fame,
[plains : By chance conducted, to the rich mari came; Pour'd their black stores, and delug'd all the Yet from bis herds he could not spare an ox The rent rocks shiver'd on that awful day, To treat him, nor a wether from his flocks, And mountains melted like soft wax away. But took by cruel force, and kill'd and drest
In Shamgar's days, in Jael's hapless reign, The poor man's lamb to feed his pamper'd guest." | How were the princes, and the people slain ? The monarch paus'd-then made this stern When Sisera, terrific with bis hosts, reply
Pour'd dire destruction on pale Judah's coasts; locens'd: “I swear by God that rules the sky, The cities no inhabitants contain'd; The man that did this thing shall surely die: The public ways unoccupied remain'd; The lamb fourfold he likewise shail restore, The travellers through dreary deserts stray'd, To recompense the friendless and the poor: Or pensive wander'd in the lonely glade, Because his heart no soft compassion felt,
Till, sent by Heaven, I, Deborah, arose At other's woe unknowing how to melt."
To rule and rescue Israel from their foes. “ Thou art the man," reply'd the holy seer, Those patriot warriors of immortal fame, • Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel, bear : Who sa v'd their country all my favour claim : A king thou art, anointed at my call,
Ye judges, speak, ye shepherd swains, rehearse O'er Israel; and I rescued thee from Saul; Jehovah's praise in never-dying verse, And gave thee all thy master's servants lives, Awake, awake; raise, Deborah, thy voice, His large possessions, and his numerous wives: And in loud numbers bid the lyre rejoice: Was that too little? Could'st thou more require? | Raise to the Lord of Heaven thy grateful song, I would have given thee all thy heart's desire. Who gave the weak dominion o'er the strong. Then wherefore didst thou God's commanılment The tribes of Israel sent their mighty men, Committing this great evil in his sight? Slight, That wield the falchion, or that guide the pen. Lo! thou hast robb'd Uriah of his wife,
Gilead, Oh shame! by fountful Jordan lay, Defil'd his bed, and then destroyed his life, Dan in his ships, and Asher in his bay : Hast slain him with the adversary's sword : Their bleating focks (ignoble care!) withheld Now therefore hear the judgment of the Lord, | The tribes of Reuben from the tented field : And lock this awful sentence in thy heart;
But chiefs intrepid to the conflict came, • The sword shall never from thy house depart, Heroes that fought for empire and for fame: For thou hast rubb'd Uriah of his wife,
| lu Taanach where Megiddo's streams are rollid, Defil'd his bed, and then destroy'd his life.' | There fought the monarchs resolutely bold. Thus saith the Lord, nor thou his words despise, | Heav'n's thunders to our foes destruction The power of evil in thy house shall rise,
wrought, Lo! I will take thy wives before thine eyes; The stars 'gainst Sisera conspiring fought. Thy concubines shall be in triumph led,
The river Kishon swept away the slain, The Sun shall see them in thy neighbour's bed: Kishon, that antient river, to the main. Thou didst it secret this thing shall be done For ever bless'd be Jael's honour'd name ! Before all Israel, and before the Sun."
For ever written in the rolls of fame! Aghast, convict the mighty monarch stood, | He ask'd refreshment from the limpid ware, And from his eyes streain'd sorrow in a flood; | The milky beverage to the chief she gave: Aud while a sigh repentant heav'd his breast, He drank, he slept extended on the floor, He thus the anguish of his soul exprest: (sword, She smote the warrior, and he wak'd no more: “ Thy words are sharper than the two-edg'd | Low at her feet he bow'd bis nail-pierc'd head; For I, alas! have sinn'd against the Lord.” Low at her feet he bow'd, he fell, he lay down Stung with remorse he ¡nourn'd his past of
The hero's mother, anxious for his stay, With bitter tears, and heart-sprung penitence. Thus, fondly sighing, chid his long delay:
" What hopes, what fears my tortur'd bosom | A genius form'd in every light to shine,
A well bred scholar, and a sage divine;
And, as they lov'd him living, mourn him dead. Move slowly with the plunder of the war."
ON MRS. FOUNTAYNE,
DAUGHTER OF THOMAS WHICHICOT ESQ. AND WIFE
10 THE DEAN OF YORK; WHO DIED IN CHILD-BED,
JULY 1750. ÆTAT. 19.
Jp e'er thy bosom swellid with grief sincere,
Farewel, bright pattern of unblemish'd youth,
Death snatch'd thy sweetness in the genial hour, Could marble know what virtue's buried here, Just when thy stem put forth its infant flower: This monument would scarce refuse a tear, Still blooms the tender flower; as oft we see But mourn, so early snatch'd from mortal life, Fair branches budding from the lifeless tree, The tencerest parent, and the dearest wife, Bless'd with sweet temper, and of soul so even, She seem'd a copy of the saints in Heaven,
ON A YOUNG GENTLEMAN,
WHO DIED FOR LOVE.
| 1x modest merit ever claim'd thy tear,
Behold this monument, and shed it here:
Here every blooming virtue beam'd in one, IN A CHURCH IN CHESHIRE.
The friend, the lover, and the duteous son. When age, all patient, and without regret, Bless'd youth! whose bosom nature form'd to Lies down in peace, and pays the general debt,
glow 'Tis weakness most unmanly to deplore
Witb purest flame the heart of man can know, The death of those who relish life no more. Go, where bright angels heavenly raptures But when fair youth, that every promise gave,
prove, Sheds his sweet blossom in the blasting grave, And melt in visions of seraphic love. All eyes o'erflow with many a streaming tear,
1751. And each sad bosom heaves the sigh sincere.
ON A WORTHY FRIEND
MUSIC AND PAINTING.
ON JAMES FOX, ESQ.
ON THE REV. MR. COOKSON,
VICAR OF LEEDS.
I've sent you, dear Nanny, a basket of stuff,