Timotheus plac'd on high,
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;
Trembling the notes afcend the sky,
And heavenly joys infpire.
The fong began from Jove,
Who left his blifsful feats above;
(Such is the power of mighty love!)
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god;
Sublime on radiant fpires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,

And while he fought her fnowy breast;
Then round her flender waift he curl'd,
And itamp'd an image of himself, a fovereign of
the world.

The liftening crowd adore the lofty found,
A prefent deity, they fhout around;

A prefent deity, the echoing roofs rebound!

As when, by tigers drawn, o'er India's plains he

With downcaft looks the joyless victor fate,
Revolving in his alter'd foul

The various turns of chance below;
And, now and then, a fight he stole,

And tears began to flow.
The mighty mafter Iniil'd to fee
That love was in the next degree,
'Twas but a kindred found to move:
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly fweet in Lydian measures,
boon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
AIR. [with flutes.]

War is toil and trouble,
Honour is an airy bubble,
Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting fill, and ftill deftroying,
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think it, worth enjoying;
Lovely Thais fits befide thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,

Sigh'd and lock'd, and figh'd again :

At length, with love and wine at once opprcis'd,

The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.

Now ftrike the golden lyre again;

A louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain:
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

Rouze him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark, the horrid found
Has rais'd up his head,
As awak'd from the dead,
And amaz'd he stares around!
AIR. [with fymphonies.]
Revenge, revenge, Alecto cries,
See the furies arife!

See the fnakes that they rear,
How they hifs in their hair,

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!

SONG S.

I.

THY origin's divine, I see,
Of mortal race thou canst not be;
Thy lip a ruby luftre shows;
Thy purple cheek outfhines the rofe,
And thy bright eye is brighter far
Than any planet, any star
Thy fordid way of life despise,
Above thy flavery, Silvia, rife;
Difplay thy beauteous form and mien,
And grow a goddess, or a queen.
II.

CONSTANTIA, fee, thy faithful flave
Dies of the wound thy beauty gave!
Ah gentle nymph, no longer try
From fond pursuing love to fly.

Thy pity to my love impart,
Pity my bleeding aching heart,
Regard my fighs and flowing tears,
And with a imile remove my
fears.

A wedded wife if thou wouldst be,
By facred Hymen join'd to me,
Ere yet the western fun decline,

My hand and heart fhall both be thine.

III.

THRICE lov'd Conftantia, heavenly fair,
For thee a fervant's form I wear;
Though bleft with wealth, and nobly born,
For thee, both wealth and birth I scorn:
Trust me, fair maid, my conftant flame
For ever will remain the fame;
My love, that ne'er will ceale, my love
Shall equal to thy beauty prove.

TRANSLATED FROM PERSIAN VERSES, Alluding to the custom of Women being buried with their Husbands, an! Men with their Wives.

ETERNAL are the chains which here

The generous fouls of lovers bind, When Hymen joins our hands, we swear

To be for ever true and kind;

And when, by death, the fair are fnatch'd away,
Left we our folemn vows fhould break,

In the fame grave our living corpse we lay,
And willing the fame fate partake.

ANOTHER.

My dearest spouse, that thou and I
May fhun the fear which first shall die,
Clafp'd in cach other's arms we'll live,
Alike confum'd in love's foft fire,
That neither may at laft furvive,
But gently both at once expire.

ON ARQUEÄNASSA OF COLOPHOS.

ARQUEANASSA's charms inspire
Within my breast a lover's fire;
Age, its feeble spite difplaying,
Vainly wrinkles all her face,
Cupids, in each wrinkle playing,
Charm my eyes with lafting grace:
But, before old time purfued her,
Eve he funk thefe little caves,
How I pity those who view'd her,
And in youth were made her flaves!

ON FULVIA, THE WIFE OF ANTHONY

FROM THE LATIN OF AUGUSTUS CESAR.

WHILE from his confort falfe Antonius flies,
And doats on Glaphyra's far brighter eyes,
Fulvia, provok'd, her female arts prepares,
Reprisals feeks, and spreads for me her fnares.
"The husband's falfe."-But why must I endure
This naufeous plague, and her revenge procure?
What though the ask?-How happy were my
doom,

Should all the difcontented wives of Rome
Repair in crowds to me, when scorn'd at home!
"'Tis war," fhe fays, " if I refufe her charms :'
Let's think he's ugly.-Trumpets, found tə

arms!

HUDIBRAS IMITATED.
Written in 1710.

O BLESSED time of reformation,
That's now beginning through the nation'
The Jacks bawl loud for church triumphant,
And fwear all Whigs fhall kifs the rump on't.
See how they draw the beastly rabble-
With zeal and noifes formidable,
And make all cries about the town
Join notes to roar fanatics down!
As bigots give the fign about,

They ftretch their throats with hideous fhout.
Black tinkers bawl aloud" to fettle
"Church privilege"-for " mending kettle."
Each fow-gelder that blows his horn,
Cries out" to have diffenters fworn,"
The oyster-wenches lock their fish up,
no Presbyterian bishop !"
The moufe-trap men lay fave-alls by,
And 'gainft" low-church men' loudly cry;
A creature of amphibious nature,
That trims betwixt the land and water,

And cry

And leaves his mother in the lurch,

To fide with rebels 'gainst the church!
Some cry for" penal laws," inftead
Of" pudding pies, and gingerbread:"

And fome, for brooms, old boots, and fhoes, "God blefs our commons heule !'' ̧

Roar out,

Some bawl" the votes" about the town,
And wish they'd vote difìenters down.”
Inftead of " kitchen-iluff," fome cry,
"Confound the late Whig-miniftry!"
And fome, for any chairs to mend,"
The commons late addrefs commend.
Some for "old gowns for china ware,"
Exclaim against " extempore prayer :'
And fome for "old fuits, cloaks, or coats,'
Cry, "D-n your preachers without notes!"
He that cries" coney-fkins, or onions,"
Blames" toleration of opinions,"
Blue-apron whores, that fit with furmety,
Rail at occafional conformity."
Instead of "cucumbers to pickle,"
Some cry aloud, "no conventicle!"
Masons, instead of " building houfes,"

To "build the church," would ftarve their spouses,
And gladly leave their trades, for ftorming
The meeting houfes, or informing.
Bawds, ftrumpets, and religion-haters,
Pimps, pandars, atheists, fornicators,

Rogues, that, like Falftaff, fcarce know whether
A church's infide's ftone or leather,

Yet join the parfons and the people,

To cry "the church," but mean " the steeple."

If, holy mother, fuch you'll own For your true fons, and fuch alone, Then heaven have mercy upon you, But the de'il take your beafly crew!

THAT the praises of the Author of Nature, which is the fitteft fubject for the fublime way of writing, was the moft ancient use of poetry, cannot be Icarned from a more proper inftance (next to examples of holy writ) than from the Greek fragments of Orpheus; a relique of great antiquity : they contain several verses concerning God, and his making and governing the univerfe; which, though imperfect, have many noble hints and lofty expreffions. Yet, whether thefe verfes were indeed written by that celebrated father of poctry and mufic, who preceded Homer, cr by Onomacritus, who lived about the time of Pififlratus, and only contain fome of the doctrines of Orpheus, is a question of little ufe or importance.

A large paraphrafe of thefe in French verfe has been prefixed to the tranflation of Phocylides, but in a flat style, much inferior to the defign. The following Ode, with many alterations and additions proper to a modern poem, is attempted upon the fame model, in a language which, having ftronger finews than the French, is, by the confeffion of their beft tritic Rapin, more capable of sustaining great subjects.

Q D E.

I.

O Musz unfeign'd! O true celestial fire,
Brighter than that which rules the day,
Defcend! a mortal tongue infpire

To fing fome great immortal lay!
Begin, and strike aloud the confecrated lyre !
Hence, ye profane! be far away!
Hence all ye impious flaves that bow
To idol lufts, or altars raife,

And to falfe heroes give fantastic praife! And hence ye gods, who to ye gods, who to a crime your fpurious ? beings owe!

But hear, heaven, and earth, and feas pro found!

Hear, ye fathom'd deeps below,

And let your echoing vaults repeat the found;
Let nature, trembling all around,
Attend her master's awful name,

From whom heaven, earth, and feas, and all the wide creation came.

11.

He spoke the great command; and light, Heaven's eldeft-boin and faireft child, Flash'd in the lowering face of ancient night, And. pleas'd with its own birth, ferenely fail'd. The fons of morning, on the wing, Hovering in choirs, his praifes lung, When from th', unbounded vacuous space A beauteous rifing world they faw, When nature fhew'd her yet unfinish'd face, And motion took the eftablish'd law To roll the various glabes on high; When time was taught his infant wings to try, And from the barrier fprung to his appointed race.

111.

Supreme, Almighty, fill the fame! 'Tis he, the great infpiring mind, That animates and moves this univerfal frame, Prefent at once in all, and by no place confin'd. Not heaven itfelf can bound his fway; Beyond th' untravell'd limits of the sky, Invisible to mortal eye

He dwells in uncrcated day. Without beginning, without end; 'tis he That fills th unmeafur'd growing orb of vast immensity.

IV.

What power but his can rule the changeful main, And wake the fleeping form, or its loud rage reftrain?

When winds their gather'd forces try, And the chaf'd ocean proudly twells in vain,

His voice reclaims th' impetuous roar; In murmuring tides th' abated billows fly, And the spent tempeft dies upon the shore. The meteor world is his, heaven's wintry flore, The moulded hail, the feather'd fnow; The fummer brecze, the foft refreshing shower, The loofe divided cloud, and many-colour'd bow; The crooked lightning darts around, His fovereign orders to fulfil; The shooting flame obeys th' eternal will, Launch'd from his hand, inftructed where to kill, Or rive the mountain oak, or blast th' unfhelter'd ground.

V.

Yet, pleas'd to blefs, indulgent to supply,

He, with a father's tender care,

Supports the uumerous family

That peoples earth, and sea, and air.
From nature's giant race, th' enormous clephant
Down to the infect worm and creeping ant;
From th' eagle, fovereign of the sky,
To cach inferior feather'd brood;
From crowns and purple majefty
To humble fhepherds on the plain,

His hand unfeen divides to all their food,
And the whole world of life fuftains.

Vi.

At one wide view his eye fiurveys His works, in every diftant clime; He fhifts the feafons, months, and days, The short-liv'd offspring of revolving time; By turns they die, by turns are born; Now cheerful fpring the circle leads, And frows with flowers the fmiling meads; Gay fummer next, whom ruffet robes adorn, And waving fields of yellow corn;

Then autumn, who with lavish ftores the lap of rature spreads;

Decrepit winter, laggard in the dance,
(Like feeble age opprefs'd with pain)
A heavy feafon does maintain,

With driving fnows, and winds and ruin;
Till fpring, recruited to advance,
The various year rolls round again.

But who, thou great ador'd, who can withstand The terrors of thy lifted hand,

When, long provok'd, thy wrath awakes,
And confcious nature to her centre fhaks?
Rais'd by thy voice, the thunder flies,
Hurling pale fear and wild confufion round,
How dreadful is th' inimitable found,
The fhock of earth and feas, and labour of the skies!
Then where's ambition's haughty creft ?
Where the gay head of wanton pride?
See! tyrants fall, and with the opening ground
Would take them quick to fhades of reft,
And in their common parent's breast
From thee their bury'd forms for ever hide;
In vain-for all the elements confpire,

The fhatter'd earth, the rushing fea,
Tempestuous air, and raging fire,
To punih vile mankind, and fight for thee;
Nor death itfelf can intercept the blow,
Eternal is the guilt, and without end the woe.

O Cyrus! Alexander! Julius! all
Ye mighty lords that ever rul'd this ball!
Once gods of carth, the living deftinies
That made a hundred nations bow!
Where's your extent of empire now!
Say where preferv'd your phantom glory lies?
Can brafs the fleeting thing secure?
Enfhrin'd in temples does it ftay?

Or in huge amphitheatres endure
The rage of rolling time, and scorn decay?
Ah no! the mouldering monuments of fame
Your vain deluded hopes betray,
Nor fhew th' ambitious founder's name,
Mix'd with yourselves in the fame mass of clay.

IX.

Proceed, my mufe! Time's wafting thread pur.

fue,

And fee at last th' unravel'd clue,

When cities fink, and kingdoris are no more,
And weary nature fhall her work give o’er,
Behold th' Almighty Judge on high!

See in his hand the book of fate!
Myriads of fpirits fill the fky

T'attend, with dread folemnity,

The world's laft fcene, and time's concluding date.

The feeble race of fhort-liv'd vanity

The fickly pomp at once shall die;

Foul guilt to midnight caves will fhrink away,

Look back, and tremble in her flight, And curfe at heaven's pursuing light. Surrounded with the vengeance of that day. Ilow will you then, ye impious, 'fcape your dooms.

Self-judg'd, abandon'd, overcome?

Your clouds of painted bliss shall melt before your

fight.

Yet flad you not the giddy chase refrain,
Nor hope more folid blifs t' obtain,
Nor once repeat the joys you knew before;
But figh, a long eternity of pain,

Toft in an ocean of defire, yet never find a shore.

X.

But fee where the mild Sovereign fits prepar'd His better fubjects to reward!

Where am I now! what power divine Tranfports me! what immortal fplendors shine! Torrents of glory that opprefs the fight! What joys, celestial King! thy throne furround! The fun, who, with thy borrow'd beams fo bright, Sees not his peer in all the starry round,

Would here diminish'd fade away, Like his pale fifter of the night, When the refigns her delegated light, Loft in the blaze of day.

Here wonder only can take place ;Then, muse, th' adventurous flight forbear! These mystic scencs thou canst no farther trace; Hope may fome boundless future blifs embrace,

But what, or when, or how, or where, Are mazes all, which fancy runs in vain; Nor can the narrow cells of human brain The vaft immcafurable thought contain.