Fair Rounds of radiant Points invest his Hair; Celestial Odours breathe thro' purpled Air : And Wings, whose Colours glitter'd on the Day,

Wide at his Back their gradual Plumes difplay.

The Form etherial, burfts upon his Sight,
And moves in all the Majesty of Light.

Tho' loud at firft the Pilgrim's Paffion grew, Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do ; Surprize, in fecret Chains, his Words fufpends,

And, in a Calm, his fettling Temper ends. But Silence here the beauteous Angel broke, (The Voice of Mufic ravish'd as he spoke.)

Thy Pray'r, thy Praise, thy Life to Vice unknown,

In fweet Memorial rife before the Throne: These Charms, Succefs in our bright Region find,

And force an Angel down to calm thy Mind; For this commiffion'd, I forfook the Sky; Nay, cease to kneel-Thy Fellow Servant I.

Then know the Truth of Government di-
vine,

And let these Scruples be no longer thine.
The Maker justly claims that World he made,
In this the Right of Providence is laid;
Its facred Majefty thro' all depends
On ufing fecond Means to work his Ends.

'Tis thus, withdrawn in State from human

Eye,

The Pow'r exerts his Attributes on high, Your Actions uses, nor controuls your Will, And bids the doubting Sons of Men be still.

What strange Events can ftrike with more Surprize,

Than those which lately ftruck thy wond'ring Eyes?

Yet taught by thefe, confefs th' Almighty just, And, where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. The great, vain Man, who far'd on coftly Food,

Whofe Life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his Iv'ry Stands with Goblets shine, And forc'd his Guests to Morning Draughts of Wine,

Has, with the Cup, the graceless Custom loft, And still he welcomes, but with lefs of Coft. The mean, fufpicious Wretch, whofe bolted Door,

Ne'er mov'd in Duty to the wand'ring Poor; With him I left the Cup, to teach his Mind, That Heav'n can bless, if Mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting Worth, he views the Bowl, And feels Compaffion touch his grateful Soul. Thus Artists melt the fullen Ore of Lead, With heaping Coals of Fire upon its Head; In the kind Warmth the Metal learns to glow, And, loofe from Drofs, the Silver runs below. D 2

Long

Long had our pious Friend in Virtue trod, But now the Child half-wean'd his Heart from God;

(Child of his Age) for him he liv'd in Pain, And measur'd back his Steps to Earth again. To what Exceffes had his Dotage run? But God, to fave the Father, took the Son. To all but thee, in Fits he seem'd to go, (And 'twas my Ministry to deal the Blow.) The poor fond Parent, humbled in the Duft, Now owns, in Tears, the Punishment was just.

But how had all his Fortune felt a Wrack, Had that falfe Servant sped in Safety back? This Night his treafur'd Heaps he meant to fteal,

And what a Fund of Charity wou'd fail!

Thus Heav'n inftructs thy Mind; this Trial o'er,

Depart in Peace, refign, and fin no more. On founding Pinions here the Youth withdrew,

The Sage ftood wond'ring as the Seraph flew. Thus look'd Elifha, when, to mount on high,

His Mafter took the Chariot of the Sky.
The fiery Pomp ascending left the View;
The Prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow

too.

The

The bending Hermit here a Pray'r begun, Lord! as in Heav'n, on Earth thy Will be done.

Then gladly turning, fought his ancient Place, And pafs'd a Life of Piety and Peace.

The CATTERPILLAR and

BUTTERFLY.

A FABLE.

Τ

HE Morning blush'd with vivid Red, And Night in fullen Silence fled; Sad Philomel no more complains, The Lark begins his sprightly Strains ; Light paints the Flow'rs of various Hue, And sparkles in the pendant Dew: Life moves o'er all the quicken'd Green, And Beauty reigns, unrival'd Queen.

Green as the Leaf on which he lay,
A Catterpillar wak'd to Day;
And look'd around, and chanc'd to 'fpy
A Leaf of more inviting Dye;

From where he lay, he crawl'd, and found,
The verdant Spot's indented bound;
Stretch'd from the Verge, he ftrove to gain
The neighb'ring Leaf, but ftrove in vain.

In that nice Moment, prompt to fave,
A Brother Worm this Warning gave.

"O! turn, advent'rous as thou art, Nor hence, deceiv'd by Hope, depart: What tho' the Leaf, that tempts thee, shows More tafteful Food, more foft Repose; What, tho' with brighter Spangles gay, Its Dew reflects an earlier Ray? O! think what Dangers guard the Prize; O! think what Dangers, and be wife! The Pafs from Leaf to Leaf forbear; Behold how high they wave in Air! And shou'dft thou fall, tremendous Thought! What Ruin wou'd avenge thy Fault? Thy mangled Carcafe, writh'd with Pain, Shall mark with Blood the dufty Plain. Then Death, the Dread of all below, Thy Wish-alone can end thy Woe. Untimely Death, for now to die, Is ne'er to rife a Butterfly.”

• A Butterfly!' th' Advent'rer cries,
• What's that?" "A Bird," his Friend

replies,

To which this reptile Form fhall rife;
The joyful Seafon Time shall bring,
He bears it on his rapid Wing.
An Age there is, when all our Kind
Difdain the Ground, and mount the Wind:
And shou'd'ft thou, Friend, this Age attain-
(With Haste the Worm reply'd again)

• Say