For what she sung, that Spirit did indite,
Which gave her courage and fuccefs in fight.
A double garland crowns the matchless dame;
From Heaven her Poem and her Conquest came.
Though of the Jews fhe merit most esteem;
Yet here the Chriftian has the greater theme:
Her martial fong defcribes how Sisera fell;
This fings our triumph over death and hell.
The rifing light employ'd the facred breath
Of the bleft Virgin and Elizabeth.
In fongs of joy the Angels fung his birth :
Here, how he treated was upon the earth,
Trembling we read! th' affliction and the scorn,
Which, for our guilt, fo patiently was borne!
Conception, birth, and fuffering, all belong
(Though various parts) to one celestial song :
And the, well ufing fo divine an art,
Has, in this concert, fung the tragic part.
As Hannah's feed was vow'd to facred use,
So here this Lady confecrates her Mufe;
With like reward may Heaven her bed adorn,
With fruit as fair, as by her Mufe is born!
On the Paraphrafe on the LORD'S PRAYER, Written by Mrs. WHARTON.
ILENCE, ye winds! listen etherial lights!
While our Urania fings what Heaven indites :
The Numbers are the Nymph's; but from above
Defcends the pledge of that eternal love.
Here wretched mortals have not leave alone,
But are instructed to approach his throne :
And how can he to miferable men
Deny requests, which his own hand did pen?
In the Evangelifts we find the profe;
Which, paraphras'd by her, a Poem grows;
A devout rapture! fo divine a hymn,
It may become the highest Seraphim!
For they, like her, in that celestial choir,
Sing only what the Spirit does infpire.
Taught by our Lord, and theirs, with us they may
For all, but pardon for offences, pray.
Some Reflections of His upon the feveral Petitions in the fame Prayer.
IS facred name, with reverence profound,
Should mention'd be, and trembling at the
It was Jehovah; 'tis Our Father now;
So low to us does Heaven vouchfafe to bow! *
He brought it down, that taught us how to pray;
And did fo dearly for our ranfom pay.
II. His kingdom come. For this we pray in vain, Unless he does in our affections reign:
Abfurd it were to wish for fuch a King,
And not obedience to his fceptre bring;
Whose yoke is easy, and his burthen light;
His fervice freedom, and his judgments right.
III. His will be done. In fact 'tis always done;
But, as in heaven, it must be made our own :
His will should all our inclinations fway,
Whom nature and the universe obey.
Happy the man! whose wishes are confin'd
To what has been eternally defign'd:
Referring all to his paternal care,
To whom more dear, than to ourselves, we are.
IV. It is not what our avarice hoards up;
'Tis he that feeds us, and that fills our cup;
Like new-born babes, depending on the breast,
From day to day, we on his bounty feast.
Nor fhould the foul expect above a day,
To dwell in her frail tenement of clay :
The setting fun fhould feem to bound our race,
And the new day a gift of special grace.
V. That he should all our trefpaffes forgive,
While we in hatred with our neighbours live;
Though fo to pray may seem an easy task,
We curfe ourselves when thus inclin'd we ask.
This prayer to use, we ought with equal care
Our fouls, as to the Sacrament, prepare.
The nobleft worship of the Power above,
Is to extol, and imitate, his love:
Not to forgive our enemies alone;
But use our bounty that they may be won.
VI. Guard us from all temptations of the foe:
And those we may, in several stations know:
The rich and poor in flippery places stand:
Give us enough! but with a sparing hand!
Not ill-perfuading want; nor wanting wealth;
But what proportion'd is to life and health.
For not the dead, but living, fing thy praise;
Exalt thy kingdom, and thy glory raise.
"Favete linguis! ****
"Virginibus puerisque canto."
On the foregoing DIVINE POEMS*.
HEN we for could neither read nor write,
The fubject made us able to indite :
The foul, with nobler resolutions deckt,
The body stooping, does herself erect:
No mortal parts are requifite to raise
Her, that unbody'd can her Maker praise.
The feas are quiet, when the winds give o'er :
So, calm are we, when paffions are no more!
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, fo certain to be loft.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness, which age defcries.
*See, in "Duke's Poems," an elegant compliment to Mr. Waller, on this his last production. N.
The foul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light, through chinks that time has made:
Stronger by weakness, wifer men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home:
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
*** Miratur limen Olympi."
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