The muses thus their reputation rais'd,
And with just gratitude in Greece were prais'd.
With pleasure mortals did their wonders see,
And sacrific'd to their divinity;

But want, at last, base flattery entertain'd,
And old Parnassus with this vice was stain'd:
Desire to gain dazzling the poets' eyes,
Their works were fill'd with fulsome flatteries.
Thus needy wits a vile revenue made,
And verse became a mercenary trade.
Debase not with so mean vice thy art:
If gold must be the idol of thy heart,
Fly, fly the unfruitful Heliconian strand,
Those streams are not enrich'd with golden
sand:

Great wits, as well as warriors, only gain
Laurels and honours for their toil and pain:
But what? an author cannot live on fame,
Or pay a reckoning with a lofty name :
A poet to whom fortune is unkind,
Who when he goes to bed has hardly din'd;
Takes little pleasure in Parnassus' dreams,
Or relishes the Heliconian streams.
Horace had ease and plenty when he writ,
And free from cares for money or for meat,
Did not expect his dinner from his wit.
'Tis true; but verse is cherish'd by the great,
And now non famish who deserve to eat:

What can we fear, when virtue, arts, and sense,
Receive the stars' propitious influence ?
When a sharp-sighted prince, by early grants
Rewards your merits, and prevents your wants?
Sing then his glory, celebrate his fame;
Your noblest theme is his immortal name.
Let mighty Spenser raise his reverend head,
Cowley and Denham start up from the dead;
Waller his age renew, and offerings bring;
Our monarch's praise let bright-ey'd virgins singi
Let Dryden with new rules our stage refine,
And his great models form by this design:
But where's a second Virgil, to rehearse
Our hero's glories in his epic verse?
What Orpheus sing his triumphs o'er the main,
And make the hills and forests move again :
Show his bold fleet on the Batavian shore,
And Holland trembling as his cannons roar;
Paint Europe's balance in his steady hand,
Whilst the two worlds in expectation stand
Of
peace or war, that wait on his command?
But as I speak, new glories strike my eyes,
Glories, which heaven itself does give, and
prize,

Blessings of peace; that with their milder rays
Adorn his reign, and bring Saturnian days:
Now let rebellion, discord, vice, and rage,
That have in patriots' forms debauch'd our age,
Vanish with all the ministers of hell:
His rays their poisonous vapours shail dispel :
"T is he alone our safety did create,
His own firm soul secur'd the nation's fate,
Oppos'd to all the Boutefeus of the state.
Authors for him your great endeavours raise;
The loftiest numbers will but reach his praise.
For me, whose verse in satire has been bred,
And never durst heroic measures tread;
Yet you shall see me, in that famous field,
With eyes and voice, my best assistance yield;
Offer you lessons, that my infant muse
Learnt, when she Horace for her guide did
choose:

Second I your zeal with wishes, heart, and eyes,
And afar off hold up the glorious prize.
But pardon too, if zealous for the right,
A strict observer of each noble flight,
From the fine gold I separate the allay,
And show how hasty writers sometimes stray:
Apter to blame, than knowing how to mend;
A sharp, but yet a necessary friend. /

HYMN FOR ST. JOHN'S EVE.

O SYLVAN prophet! whose eternal fame

Echoes from Judah's hills and Jordan's stream;
The music of our numbers raise,
And tune our voices to thy praise.

A messenger from high Olympus came
To bear the tidings of thy life and name;
And told thy sire each prodigy

That heaven designed to work in thee.
Hearing the news, and doubting in surprise,
His fault'ring speech in fettered accents dies;
But Providence, with happy choice,
In thee restored thy father's voice.
In the recess of nature's dark abode,
Though still enclosed, yet knewest thou thy God,
While each glad parent told and blest
The secrets of each other's breast.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF THE FAIR AND VIRTUOUS LADY,

MRS. ANASTASIA STAFFORD, 'ITH THAT TRULY WORTHY AND PIOUS GENT. GEORGE HOLMAN, ESQ.

I.

WHEN nature, in our northern hemisphere, Aad shorten'd day-light, and deform'd the year;

When the departing sun

Was to our adverse tropic run;

And fair St. Lucy, with the borrow'd light, Of moon and stars, had lengthen'd night: What more then summer's day slipt in by chance,

To beautify the calendar?

What made a spring, in midst of winter to advance,

And the cold seasons leap into a youthful dance,

To rouse the drooping year?
Was this by miracle, or did they rise
By the bright beams of Anastasia's eyes?
To light our frozen clime,
And, happily for us, mistook their time?
T was so, and 't was imported in her name;
From her, their glorious resurrection came,
And she renew'd their perish'd flame.
The God of nature did the same:
His birth the depth of winter did adorn,
And she, to marriage then, her second birth,
was born.

Her pious family, in every state,
Their great Redeemer well can imitate.
They have a right in heaven, an early place;
The beauteous bride is of a martyr's race:

Now, let the reasonable beast, call'd man,
Let those, who never truly scan

The effects of sacred Providence,
But measure all by the gross rules of sense,
Let those look up and steer their sight,

By the great Stafford's light.

The God that suffer'd him to suffer here, Rewards his race, and blesses them below Their father's innocence and truth to show; To show he holds the blood of martyrs dear: He crown'd the father with a deathless diadem;

And all the days from him he took, He number'd out in his eternal book: And said, let these be safely kept for them, The long descendants of that hallow'd stem. To dry the mournful widow's tears, Let all those days be turn'd to years,

And all those years be whiten'd too: Still some new blessing let 'em bring, To those who from my martyr spring;

Still let them bloom, and still bestow Some new content upon his race below. Let their first revolution

Bestow a bride upon his darling son, And crown those nuptials with a swift in

crease,

Such as the emptied ark did bless : Then, as the storms are more allay'd, And waves decay'd,

Send out the beauteous blooming maid, And let that virgin dove bring to her house again,

An olive branch of peace, in triumph o'er the main.

For whom, ye heavens! have ye reserv'd this joy?

Let us behold the man you chose: How well you can your cares employ, And to what arms your maid dispose: Your maid, whom you have chang'd, but cannot lose :

Chang'd as the morn into the day, As virgin snow that melts away, And, by its kindly moisture, makes new flowers to grow.

See then, a bridegroom worthy such a

bride!

Never was happy pair so fitly tied ;

Never were virtues more allied;
United in a most auspicious hour-

A martyr's daughter weds a confessor!
When innocence and truth became a crime,

By voluntary banishment,
He left our sacrilegious clime,
And to a foreign country went;

Or rather, there, by Providence was sent:
For Providence design'd him to reside,

Where he, from his abundant stock,
Might nourish God's afflicted flock,
And as his steward, for their wants provide.
A troop of exiles on his bounty fed,
They sought, and found with him their
daily bread;

As the large troop increast, the larger table spread.

The cruse ne'er emptied, nor the store
Decreas'd the more;

For God supplied him still to give, who gave in
God's own stead.

Thus, when the raging dearth
Afflicted all the Egyptian earth;
When scanty Nile no more his bounty
dealt,

And Jacob, even in Canaan, famine felt;
God sent a Joseph out before;
His father and his brethren to restore :
Their sacks were fill'd with corn, with gene-
rous wine

Their souls refresh'd their ebbing store,

Still when they came,supplied with more, And doubled was their corn, Joseph himself by giving, greater grew, And from his loins a double tribe increas'd the chosen crew.

TO MATILDA.

ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF OUR MARRIAGE.

WHEN first, in all thy youthful charms,
And dazzling beauty's pride,
Heighten'd by infant Love's alarms,
The nuptial knot was tied,
Which gave thee to my longing arms,
A blooming, blushing bride:
Entranc'd in Hymen's blissful bowers,
We hail'd each rising sun,
While wing'd with joy the rosy hours

In ecstacy flew on;

And still we blest the heavenly powers, Who join'd our hearts in one.

Now, as with fairy-footed tread,

Time steals our years away, Thy mildly beaming virtues spread Soft influence o'er life's way Insuring to our peaceful shed,

Love's bliss without decay.