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COMPASSION checks my fpleen, yet fcorn denies,
The tears a paffage through my fwelling eyes;
To laugh or weep at fins, night idly show
Unheedful paffion, or unfruitful woe.
Satire arife, and try thy fharper ways,
If ever fatire cur'd an old difeafe.

Is not Religion (heaven-defcended dame)
As worthy all our foul's devouteft flame,
As moral virtue in her early fway,
When the best heathens faw by doubtful day?
Are not the joys, the promis'd joys above,
As great and strong to vanquish earthly love,
As earthly glory, fame, refpect, and show,
As all rewards their virtue found below?
Alas! religion proper means prepares,
Thefe means are ours, and muft its end be theirs?
And shall thy father's fpirit meet the fight
Of heathen fages cloth'd in heavenly light,
Whofe merit of frict life, feverely fuited
To reafon's dictates, may be faith imputed,
Whilft thou, to whom he taught the nearer road,
Art ever banish'd from the bleft abode ?

Oh if thy temper fuch a fear can find,
This fear were valour of the nobleft kind.

Dar'st thou provoke, when rebel fouls afpire,
Thy Maker's vingeance, and thy Monarch's ire,
Or live entomb'd in fhips, thy leader's prey,
Spoil of the war, the famine, or the fea;
In fearch of pearl, in depth of ocean breathe,
Or live, exil'd the fun, in mines beneath,
Or, where in tempefts icy mountains roll,
Attempt a paffage by the northern pole?
Or dar'st thou parch within the fires of Spain,
Or burn beneath the line, for Indian gain?
Or for fome idol of thy fancy draw [ftraw?
Some loofe-gown'd dame; O courage made of
Thus, defperate coward, would't thou bold ap-
pear,

Yet when thy God has plac'd thee centry here,
To thy own foes, to his, ignoble yield;
And leave, for wars forbid th' appointed field?
Know thy own foes; th' apoftate angel; he
You strive to please, the formoft of the three;
He makes the pleasures of his realm the bait,,
But can he give for love that acts in hate?
The world's thy fecond love, thy fecond foe,
The world, whofe beauties perifh as they blow,
They fly, fhe fades herself, and at the best,
You grafp a wither'd ftrumpet to your breast;
The flesh is next, which in fruition waftes,
High flufh'd with all the fenfual joys it taftes.
While men the fair, the goodly foul deftroy,
From whence the flesh has power to take a

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joy,

Seek thou religion primitively found-
Well, gentle friend, but where may fhe be found?
By faith implicit blind Ignaro led,

Thinks the bright feraph from his country fled,
And fecks her feat at Rome, because we know,
She there was feen a thousand years ago;
And loves her relic rags, as men obey
The foot-cloth where the prince fat yesterday.
These pageant forms are whining Obed's fcorn,
Who feeks religion at Geneva born,

A fullen thing, whose coarseness fuits the crowd : Though young, unhandsome; though unhands fore, proud;

Thus, with the wanton, fome perverfely judge
All girls unhealthy but the country drudge.

No foreign fchemes make eafy Cæpio roam, The man contented takes his church at home, Nay, fhould fome preachers, fervile bawds of gain, [reign,

1

Should fome new laws, which like new fafhions
Command his faith to count falvation ty❜d,
To vifit his, and vifit none befide;

He grants falvation centres in his own,
And grants it centres but in his alone;

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From youth to age he grafps the proffer'd dame,
And they confer his faith, who give his name;
So from the guardian's hands the wards, who live.
Enthrall'd to guardians, take the wives they give,
From all profeffions careless Airy flies,
For all profeffions can't be good, he cries;
And here a fault, and there another views,
And lives unfix'd for want of heart to choofe;
So men, who know what fome loofe girls have
done,

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For fear of marrying fuch, will marry none.
The charms of all obfequious courtly ftrike;
On each he dotes, on each attends alike;
And thinks, as different countries deck the dame,
The dreffes altering, and the fex the fame :
So fares religion, chang'd in outward show,
But 'tis religion ftill where'er we go:
This blindness springs from an excess of light,
And men embrace the wrong, to choose the right.
But thou of force must one religion own,
And only one, and that the right alone;
To find that right one, afk thy reverend fire,
Let his of him, and him of his enquire;
Though truth and falfehood seem as twins ally'd,
There's eldership on truth's delightful fide;
Her feck with heed-who feeks the foundest first,
Is not of no religion, nor the worst.
T'adore or fcorn the image, or protest,
May all be bad; doubt wifely for the best,
'Twere wrong to fleep, or headlong run aftray;
It is not wandering to inquire the way.

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On a large mountain, at the basis wide,
Steep to the top, and craggy at the fide,
sits facred truth enthron'd; and he who means
To reach the fummit, mounts with weary pains,
Winds round and round, and every turn effays,
Where fudden breaks refift the fhorter ways.
Yet labour fo, that ere faint age arrive,

Thy fearching foul poffeft her reft alive:
To work by twilight were to work too late,
And age is twilight to the night of fate.

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To will alone, is but to mean delay,
To work at prefent is the use of day.
For man's employ much thought and deed remain,
High thoughts the foul, hard deeds the body's
ftrain,

And mysteries ask believing, which to view,
Like the fair fun, are plain, but dazzling too.
Be truth, fo found, with facred heed poffeft,
Not kings have power to tear it from thy breaft,
By no blank charters harm they where they hate,
Nor are they vicars, but the hands of fate.
Ah! fool and wretch, who let'ft thy foul be ty'd
To human laws! or muft it fo be try'd?
Or will it boot thee, at the latest day,
When judgment fits, and juftice afks thy plea,
That Philip that, or Gregory taught thee this,
Or John or Martin? all may teach amiss :
For every contrary in each extreme
This holds alike, and each may plead the fame.

Wouldst thou to power a proper duty show?
'Tis thy first task the bounds of power to know;
The bounds once paft, it holds the fame no more,
Its nature alters, which it own'd before,
Nor were fubmiffion humbleness expreft,
But all a low idolatry at best.

Power from above, fubordinately spread,
Streams like a fountain from th' eternal head:
There, calm and pure, the living waters flow,
But roars a torrent or a flood below,
Each flower ordain'd the margins to adorn,
Each native beauty, from its roots is torn,
And left on deferts, rocks and fands, are toft,
All the long travel, and in ocean lost.

So fares the foul, which more that power reveres. Man claims from God, than what in God inheres.

THE GIFT OF POETRY,

FROM realms of never-interrupted peace,
From thy fair station near the throne of grace,
From choirs of angels, joys in endless round,
And endless harmony's enchanting found,
Charm'd with a zeal the Maker's praise to fhow,
Bright gift of verse descend, and here below
My ravish'd heart with rais'd affection fill,
And warbling o'er the foul incline my will.
Among thy pomp, let rich expreffion wait,
Let raging numbers form thy train complete,
While at thy motions over all the sky

Sweet founds, and echoes fweet, refounding fly;
And where thy feet with gliding beauty tread,'
Let fancy's flowery spring erect its head.

It comes, it comes, with unaccustom'd light, The tracts of airy thought grow wondrous bright, Its notions ancient memory reviews, And young invention new defigns pursues. To fome attempt my wilt and wishes prefs, And pleasure, rais'd in hope, forbodes fuccefs. My God! from whom proceed the gifts divine, My God! I think I feel the gift is thine. Be this no vain illufion which I find, Nor nature's impulfe on the paffive mind,

But reafon's act, produc'd by good defire,
By grace enliven'd with celeftial fire;
While base conceits, like mifty fons of night,
Before fuch beams of glory take their flight,
And frail affections, born of earth, decay,
Like weeds that wither in the warmer ray.
I thank thee, Father! with a grateful mind;
Man's undeserving, and thy mercy kind.
I now perceive, I long to fing thy praise,
I now perceive, I long to find my lays
The fweet incentives of another's love,
And sure such longings have their rife above.
My refolution ftands confirm'd within,
My lines afpiring eagerly begin;
Begin, my lines, to fuch a fubject due,
That aids our labours, and rewards them too!
Begin, while Canaan opens to mine eyes,
Where fouls and fongs, divinely form'd, arife.

As one whom o'er the sweetly-vary'd meads Entire recefs and lonely pleafure leads, To verdur'd banks, to paths adorn'd with flowers, To fhady trees, to clofely waving bowers, To bubbling fountains, and afide the ftream That foftly gliding fooths a waking dream, Or bears the thought inspir'd with heat along, And with fair images improves a fong; Through facred anthems, fo may fancy range, So ftill from beauty, ftill to beauty change, To feel delights in all the radiant way, And, with fweet numbers, what it feels repay. For this I call that ancient time appear, And bring his rolls to ferve in method here; His rolls which acts, that endless honour claim, Have rank'd in order for the voice of fame. | My call is favour'd: Time from first to laft Unwinds his years, the present fees the past I view their circles as he turns them o'er, And fix my footsteps where he went before.

The page unfolding would a top disclose, Where founds melodious in their birth arose. Where first the morning Atars together fung, Where first their harps the fons of glory ftrung, With fhouts of joy while hallelujahs rife To prove the chorus of eternal skies. Rich fparkling strokes the letters doubly gild, And all's with love and admiration fill'd.

MOSE S.

To grace those lines, which next appear to fight, The pencil fhone, with more abated light; Yet ftill the pencil fhone, the lines were fair, And awful Mofes ftands recorded there; Let his, replete with flames and praise divine, Let his, the first-remember'd fong be mine, Then rife my thought, and in thy prophet find What joy should warm thee, for the work defign'd. To that great act, which rais'd his heart, repair, And find a portion of his fpirit there.

A nation helpless and unarm'd I view, Whom strong revengeful troops of war pursue, Seas ftop their flight, their camp muit prove their

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God's wondrous voice proclaims his high command,

He bids their leader wave the facred wand,
And where the billows flow'd, they flow no more,
A road lies naked, and they march it o'er.
Safe may the fons of Jacob travel through,
But why will harden'd Egypt venture tou?
Vain in thy rage, to think those waters flee
And rife like walls, on either hand, for thee.
The night comes on, the feafon for furprise,
Yet fear not, Ifrael, God directs thine eyes.
A fiery cloud I fee thine angel ride,

His chariot is thy light, and he thy guide.
The day comes on, and half the fuccours fail,
Yet fear not, Ifrael, God will still prevail.
1 fee thine angel from before thee go,
To make the wheels of venturous Egypt flow,
His rolling cloud inwarps its beams of light,
And what fupply'd thy day, prolongs their night,
At length the dangers of the deep are run,
The further brink is paft, the bank is won;
The leader turns to view the foes behind,
Then waves his folemn wand within the wind,
Oh! nation freed by wonders, ceafe thy fear,
And ftand, and fee the Lord's falvation here.
Ye tempefts, now, from every corner fly,
And wildly rage in all my fancied fky,
Roll on, ye waters, as they roll'd before,
Ye billows of my fancied ocean, roar;
Dash high, ride foaming, mingle, all the main,
'Tis done, and Pharaoh can't afflict again.
The work, the wondrous work of freedom's done,
The winds abate, the clouds restore the fun,
The wreck appears, the threatening army drown'd
Floats o'er the waves, to ftrew the fandy ground,
Then place thy Moles near the calming flood,
Majestically mild, ferenely good;

Let meekness, lovely virtue, gently stream
Around his visage, like a lambent flame;
Let grateful fentiments, let fense of love,
Let holy zeal, within his bofom move;
And while his people gaze the watery plain,
And fear's last touches like to doubts remain ;
While bright aftonishment, that feems to raise
A questioning belief, is fond to praise;
Be thus the rapture in the prophet's breaft,
Be thus the thanks for freedom gain'd exprefs'd :
I'll fing to God, I'll fing the fongs of praife,
To God, triumphant in his wondrous ways,
To God, whofe glories in the feas excel,
Where the proud horfe, and prouder rider fell.

The Lord, in mercy kind, in juftice ftrong,
Is now my ftrength; this ftrength be now my fong.
This fure falvation fuch he proves to me,
From danger rescued, and from bondage free;
The Lord's my God, and I'll prepare his feat,
Thy father's God, and I'll proclaim him great;
Him Lord of battles, him renown'd in name,
Him ever-faithful, evermore the fame.
His gracious aids avenge his people's thrall,
They make the pride of boafling Pharaoh fall.
Within the feas his ftately chariots lie,
Within the feas his chofen captains die.
'The rolling deeps have cover'd o'er the foe,
They funk like ftones, they swiftly funk below :

Thine hand, my God! thine hand confefs'd thy

care,

Thine hand was glorious in thy power there,
It broke their troops, unequal for the fight,
In all the greatnefs of excelling might:
Thy wrath fent forward o'er the raging ftream,
Swift, fure, and fudden, their deftruction came.
They fell as ftubble burns, while driving fkies
Provoke and whirl a flame, and ruin ñies.

When blasts, difparch'd with wonderful intent,
On fovereign orders from thy noftrils went,
For our accounts, the waters were afraid,
Perceiv'd thy presence, and together fled;
In heaps uprightly plac'd, they learn to ftand,
Like banks of cryftal, by the paths of fand.
Then, fondly flufh'd with hope, and swell'd with
pride,

And fill'd with rage, the foe profanely cry'd,
Secure of conqueft, I'll pursue their way,
I'll overtake them, I'll divide the prey,
My luft I'll fatisfy, mine anger cloy,

My fword I'll brandish, and their name destroy.
How wildly threats their anger, hark! above,
New blafts of wind on new commiffion move,
To loose the fetters that confin'd the main,
And make its mighty waters rage again.
Then, overwhelm'd with their refiftlefs fway,
They funk like lead, they funk beneath the fea.

Oh, who's like thee, thou dreaded Lord of Hoft!
Among the gods, whom all the nations boast,
Such acts of wonder and of ftrength displays?
Oh great, oh glorious in thine holy ways!
Deserving praise, and that thy praise appear
In figns of reverence, and fenfe of fear.
With justice arm'd, thou stretchedst out thine hand,
And earth between its gaping jaws of land
Receiv'd its waters of the parted main,
And swallow'd up the dark Egyptian train.
With mercy rifing on the weaker fide,
Thyfelf became the rescued people's guide!
And in thy strength they past th' amazing road
To reach thine holy mount, thy bless'd abode.
What thou hast done the neighbouring realms

fhall hear,

And feel the strange report excite their fear.
What thou hafl done fhall Edom's Duke amaze,
And make defpair on Palestina feize;
Shall make the warlike fons of Moab fhake,
And all the melting hearts of Canaan weak.
In heavy damps, diffus'd on every breast,
Shall cold diftruft and hopeless terror reft,
The matchlefs greatness, which thine hand has
fhewn,

Shall keep their kingdoms as unmov'd as stone,
While Jordan ftops above, and fails below,
And all thy flock across the channel go.
Thus on thy mercy's filver-fhining wing,
Through feas and ftreams thou wilt the nation
bring.

And as the rooted trees fecurely ftand,
So firmly plant it in the promis'd land;
Where for thyfelf thou wilt a place prepare,
And after-ages will thine altar rear,
There reign victorious in thy facred feat,
Oh, Lord! for ever and for ever great.

Look where the tyrant was but lately feen,
The feas gave backward, and he ventur'd in:
In yonder guif with haughty pomp he fhow'd,
Here march'd his horfenien, there his chariots
rode,

And when our God restor'd the floods again,
Ah, vainly ftrong, they perilh'd in the main;
But Ifrael went a dry furprising way,
Made fafe by miracles, amidst the sea.

[joy.
Here ceas'd the fong, though not the Prophet's
Which others hands and others tongues employ;
For fill the lays, with warmth divine expreft,
Inflam'd his hearers to their inmoft breaft.
Then Miriam's notes the chorus fweetly raise,
And Miriam's timbrel gives new life to praife.
The moving founds, like foft delicious wind,
'That breath'd from paradise, a paffage find,
Shed fympathies for odours as they rove,
And fan the risings of enkindled love.

O'er all the crowd the thought infpiring flew, The women follow'd, with their timbrels too, And thus from Mofes, where his trains arofe, They catch'd a rapture, to perform the close. We'll fing to God, we'll fing the songs of praise, To God triumphant in his wondrous ways, To God, whofe glories in the feas excel, Where the proud horse and prouder rider fell. Thus Ifrael, raptur'd with the pleasing thought, Of freedom with'd, and wonderfully got, Made cheerful thanks from every bank refound, Express'd by fongs, improv'd in joy by found. Oh, facred Mofes, each infufing line, That mov'd their gratitude, was part of thine; And still the Chriftians in thy numbers view, The type of baptifm, and of heaven too. So fouls from water rife to grace below, So faints from toil to praife and glory go.

Oh, grateful Miriam, in thy temper wrought,
Too warm for filence, or inventing thought;
Thy part of anthem was to warble o'er,
In fweet refponfe what Mofes fung before.
Thou left the public voice to join his lays,
And words redoubling, well redoubled praise.
Receive thy title, prophetefs was thine,
When here thy practice fhew'd thy form divine.
The spirit thus approv'd, refign'd in will,
The church bows down, and hears responses still.
Nor flightly fuffer tuneful Jubal's name
To mifs his place among the ions of fame;
Whofe fweet infufions could of old infpire
The breathing organs, and the trembling lyre.
Father of thefe on earth, whofe gentle foul,
By fuch engagements, could the miud controul,
If holy vertes aught to music owe,

Be that thy large account of thanks below:
Whilft, then, the timbrels lively pleasure gave,
And, now, whilst organs found fedately grave.
My first attempt the finish'd courfe commends,
Now, Fancy, flag not, as that fubject ends,
But, charm'd with beauties which attend thy way,
Afcend harmonious in the next effay.
So flies the lark, and learn from her to fly;
She mounts, she warbles on the wind on high,
She falls from thence, and seems to drop her wing,
But, ere fhe lights to reft, remounts to fing.

It is not far the days have roll'd their years Before the fecond brighten'd work appears, It is not far, alas! the faulty caufe, Which, from the prophet, fad reflection draws: Alas! that bleffings in poffeffion cloy, And peevish murmurs are preferr'd to joy; That favour'd Ifrael could be faithlefs ftill, Or question God's protecting power or will, Or dread devoted Canaan's warlike men, And long for Egypt and their bonds again. Scarce thrice the fun fince harden'd Pharaoh dy'd, As bridegrooms iffue forth with glittering pride, Rejoicing rofe, and let the nation fee Three fhining days of eafy liberty, Ere the mean fears of want, produc'd within, Vain thought, replenish'd, with rebellious fia.

Oh look not, lirael, to thy former way; God cannot fail; and either wait or pray. Within the borders of thy promis'd lands, Lot's hapless wife a strange example stands, She turn'd her eyes, and felt her change begin, And wrath as fierce may meet resembling fin. Then forward move thy camp, and forward ftill, And let fweet mercy bend thy ftubborn will.

At thy complaint, a branch in Marah cast, With fweetening virtue mends the water's taste. At thy complaint, the labouring tempeft fails, And drives before a wondrous fhower of quails. In tender grafs the falling manna lies, And heaven itself the want of bread fupplies. The rock divided, flows upon the plain At thy complaint, and ftill thou wilt complain. As, thus employ'd, thou went the defert through, Lo! Sinai mount uprear'd its head to view. Thine eyes perceiv'd the darkly-rolling cloud, Thine ears the trumpet fhrill, the thunder loud, The forky lightning fhot in livid green. The fmoke arofe, the mountain all a flame Quak'd to the depths, and work'd with figns of

awe,

While God defcended to difpenfe the law.
Yet neither mercy, manifett in might,
Nor power in terrors could preserve thee right.
Provok'd with crimes of fuch an heinous kind,
Almighty juftice fware the doom design'd:
That they should never reach the promis'd feat;
And Moles greatly mourns their haften'd fate.

I'll think how now retir'd to public care,
While night in pitchy plumes flides fost in air,
I'll think him giving what the guilty fleep,
To thoughts where forrow glides, and numbers

weep,'

Sad thoughts of woes that reign where such prevail,
And man's fhort life, though not fo fhort as frail.
Within this circle for his inward eyes,

He bids the fading low creation rise,
And strait the train of mimic fenfes brings
The dusky shapes of transitory things,
Through penfive fhades, the vifion feem to

range,

They feem to flourish, and they feem to change;
A moon decreafing runs the filent sky,
And fickly birds on moulting feathers fly;
Men walking count their days of bleffing o'er,
The bleffings vanish, and the tale's no more,

away,

Still hours of nightly watches fteal
Big waters roll, green blades of grafs decay,
Then all the penfive fhades, by just degrees,
Grow faint in profpect, and go off with thefe:
But while th' affecting notions pass along,
He chooses such as best adorn his fong;
And thus with God the rifing lays began,
God ever reigning, God compar'd with man:
And thus they move to man beneath his rod,
Man deeply finning, man chaftis'd by God.

Oh Lord! Oh Saviour! though thy chofen band Have ftay'd like strangers, in a foreign land, Through number'd ages, which have run their

race,

Still has thy mercy been our dwelling-place:
Before the most exalted duft of earth,
The stately mountains had receiv'd a birth;
Before the pillars of the world were laid;
Before the habitable parts were made;

Thou wert their God, from thee their rife they
Thou great for ages, great for ever too.

[drew,

Man (mortal creature) fram'd to feel decays,
Thine unrefifted power at pleafnre sways;
Thou fay't return, and parting fouls obey,
Thou fay't return, and bodies fall to clay.
For what's a thousand fleeting years with thee?
Or time, compar'd with long eternity,
Whofe wings expanding infinitely vaft
O'erftretch its utmoft ends of first and laft;
'T'is like thofe hours that lately faw the fun;
He rofe, and fet, and all the day was done :
Or like the watches which dread night divide,
And while we flumber unregarded glide,
When all the prefent feems a thing of nought,
And past and future close to waking thought.
As raging floods, when rivers fwell with rain,
Bear down the groves, and overflow the plain,
So fwift and ftrong thy wondrous might appears,
So life is carried down the rolling years.
As heavy fleep purfues the day's retreat,
With dark, with filent, and unactive state,
So life's attended on by certain doom,

And death's their reft; their refting-place, a tomb.
It quickly rifes, and it quickly goes;
And youth its morning, age its evening fhews.
Thus tender blades of grafs, when beams diffuse,
Rife from the preffure of their carly dews,
Foint tow'rds the fkies their elevated fpires,
And proudly flourish in their green attires;
But foon (ah fading state of things below!)
The scythe deftructive mows the lovely thew.
The rifing fun thus faw their glories high;
That fun defcended, fees their glories die.

[fall;

We ftill with more than common hafte of fate Are doom'd to perish, in thy kindled hate. Our public fins for públic justice call, And and like marks, on which thy judgments Our fecret fins, that folly thought conceal'd, Are in thy light for punishment reveal'd. Beneath the terrors of thy wrath divine Our days unmix'd with happiness decline, Like empty ftories, tedious, fhort, and vain, And never, never more recall'd gain. Yet what were life, if to the longest date, Which we have nam'd a life, we backen'd fate,

Alas, its most computed length appears
To reach the limits but of feventy years,
And if by ftrength to fourscore years we go,
That ftrength is labour, and that labour woe.
Then will thy term expire, and thou must fly,
Oh man! oh creature furely born to die!
But who regards a truth fo throughly known?
Who dreads a wrath fo manifeftly fhewn?
Who feems to fear it, though the danger vies
With any pitch to which our fear can rife?
O teach us fo fo number all our days,
That thefe reflections may correct our ways,.
That these may lead us from delufive dreams
To walk in heavenly wifdom's golden beams.

Return, oh Lord: how long fhall Ifrael fin? How long thine anger be preferv'd within? Before our time's irrevocably past,

Be kind, be gracious, and return at last;
Let favour foon difpens'd our fouls employ,
And ftill remember'd favour live in joy.
Send years of comforts for our years of woes,
Send these at least of equal length with those,
Shine on thy flock, and on their offspring fhine,
With tender mercy (fweetest act divine);
Bright rays of majefty ferenely fhed
To reft in glories on the nation's head.
Our future deeds with approbation bless,
And in the giving them give us fuccefs.

Thus with forgiveness earnestly defir'd,
Thus in the raptures of a blifs requir'd,
The man of God 'concludes his facred strain.
Now fit and fee the fubject once again;
See ghaftly death, where deferts all around
Spread forth the barren undelightful ground :
There stalks the filent melancholy fhade,
His naked bones reclining on a fpade;
And thrice the fpade with folemn fadness heaves,
And thrice earth opens in the form of graves,
His gates of darkness gape, to take him in;
And where he foon would fink, he's pufh'd by fin.

Poor mortals! here, your common picture know, And with yourselves in this acquainted grow, Through life, with airy, thoughtless pride you range,

And vainly glitter in the fphere of change,
A fphere where all things but for time remain,
Where no fix'd ftars with endless glory reign,
But meteors only, fhort-liv'd meteors rife,
To fhine, fhoot down, and die beneath the fkies.
There is an hour, ah! who that hour attends?.
When man, the gilded vanity, defcends;
When foreign force, or wafte of inward heat,
Conftrain the foul to leave its ancient feat;
When banish'd beauty from her empire flies,
And with a languish leaves the fparkling eyes;
When foftening mufic and perfuafion fail,
And all the charms that in the tongue prevail;
When fpirits ftop their courfe, when nerves un

brace,

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