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Bring verse so smooth, and thoughts so free,
And all the muses heraldry,

To blazon Jenny Gray.

Observe yon almond's rich perfume,
Presenting spring with early bloom,
In ruddy tints how gay!

Thus, foremost of the blushing fair,
With such a blithesome buxom air,
Blooms lovely Jenny Gray.

The merry, chirping, plumy throng,
The bushes and the twigs among
That pipe the sylvan lay,

All hush'd at her delightful voice
In silent ecstasy rejoice,

And study Jenny Gray.

Ye balmy odour-breathing gales,
That lightly sweep the green rob'd vales,
And in each rose-bush play;

I know you all, you 're arrant cheats,
And steal your more than, natural sweets,
From lovely Jenny Gray.

Pomona and that goddess bright,
The florist's and the maids delight,
In vain their charms display:
The luscious nectarine, juicy peach,
In richness, nor in sweetness reach
The lips of Jenny Gray.

To the sweet knot of graces three,
Th' immortal band of bards agree,
A tuneful tax to pay;

There yet remains a matchless worth,
There yet remains a lovely fourth,
And she is Jenny Gray.


Old Care with Industry and Art
At length so well had play'd his part,

*) Fable XVII.

Ho heap'd up such an ample store,
That Avrice could not sigh for more:
Ten thousand flocks his shepherd told,
His coffers over-flow'd with gold;

The land all round him was his own,
With corn his crowded granaries groan.
In short, so vast his charge and gain,
That to possess them was a pain:
With happiness oppress'd he lies,
And much too prudent to be wise.
Near him there liv'd a beauteous maid,
With all the charms of youth array'd;
Good, amiable, sincere, and free;
Her name was Generosity.

'Twas hers the largess to bestow
On rich and poor, on friend and foe.
Her doors to all were open'd wide,
The pilgrim there might safe abide:
For th' hungry and the thirsty crew,
The bread she broke, the drink she drew;
There Sickness laid her aching head,
And there Distress could find a bed.
Each hour, with an all-bounteous hand,
Diffus'd she blessings round the land:
Her gifts and glory lasted long,
And numerous was th' accepting throng.
At last pale Penury seiz'd the dame,
And Fortune fled, and Ruin came;
She found her riches at an end,


At that she had not made one friend.
All curs'd her for not giving more,
Nor thought on what she'd done before:
She wept, she rav'd, she tore her hair,
When, lo! to comfort her came Care;
And cry'd, my dear, if will join
Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine,
And will be well you shall have store,
And I be plagu'd with wealth no more.
Though I restrain your bounteous heart,
You still shall act the generous part.
The bridal came - great was the feast,
And good the pudding and the priest.

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The bride in nine moons brought him forth

A little maid of matchless worth:

Her face was mix'd of care and glee;

They christen'd her Economy;
And styl'd her fair discretion's queen,

The inistress of the golden mean,
Now generosity confin'd,

Perfectly easy in her mind,

Still loves to give, yet knows to spare,
Nor wishes to be free, from care.

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Stanza I, 2. Invocation of men and angels to join in the praise of St. Cecilia. The divine origin of music. Stanza 3. Art of music, or its miraculous power over the brute and inanimate creation exemplified in Waljer; and Stanza 4, 5, in Arion. Stanza 6. The nature of music, or its power over the pas sions. Instances of this in its exciting pity. Stanza 7. In promoting courage and military virtue. Excellency of


Stanza 8. Air to the memory of Mr. Purcell. on the organ and its inventress St. Cecilia.

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From your lyre-enchanted tow'rs,

Ye musically mystic pow'rs,

Ye, that inform the tuneful spheres,
Inaudible to mortal ears;

While each orb in ether swims,
Accordant to th' inspiring hymns;

Hither Paradise remove,

Spirits of harmony and love!.

Thou too, diviné Urania, deign t'appear,
And with thy sweetly-solemn lute

To the grand argument the numbers suit;
Such as sublime and clear,

Replete with heavenly love,
Charm th' enraptur'd souls above.
Disdainful of fantastic play,

Mix on your ambrosial tongue
Weight of sense with sound of song,
And be angelically gay.



Disdainful ete. etc.


And you, ye sons of harmony below,

How little less than angels when ye sing! With emulation's kindling warmth shall glow, And from your mellow-modulating throats The tribute of your grateful notes

In union of piety shall bring.

Shall echo from her vocal cave
Repay each note the shepherd gave,
And shall not we our mistress praise
And give her back the borrow'd lays?
But farther still our praises we pursue;
For ev'n Cecilia, mighty maid,

Confess'd she had superior aid

She did

and other rites to greater pow'rs are due.
Higher swell the sound, and higher:
Let the winged numbers climb:

To the heav'n of heav'ns aspire,

Solemn, sacred, and sublime.

From heav'n music took its rise,
Return it to its native skies.


Higher swell the sound etc. etc.


Music's a celestial art;

Cease to wonder at its pow'r,

Though lifeless rocks to motion start,

Though trees dance lightly from the bow'r,
Though rolling floods in sweet suspense

Are held and listen into sense.

In Penhurst's *) plains when Waller, sick with love,

*) Eine kleine Stadt in Kent, wo Waller verschiedene seiner Gedichte schrieb; vermuthlich meint unser Dichter hier dasjenige, welches in der Andersonschen Ausgabe von Wal ler's Gedichten das 18te der Miscellanies ist. Der Dichter klagt in demselben über die Grausamkeit seiner Sacharissa. Sicht oben S. 189.

Has found some solitary grove,

Where the vague moon-beams pour a silver-flood Of trem'lous light athwart th' unshaven wood,

Within an hoary moss-grown cell,

He lays his careless limbs without reserve,
And strikes, impetuous strikes each quer'lous nerve
Of his resounding shell.

In all the woods, in all the plains
Around, a lively stillness reigns;

The deer approach the secret scene,

And weave their way through labyrinths green:
While Philomela learns the lay,

And answers from the neighbouring bay.
But Medway *), melancholy mute,
Gently on his urn reclines,
And all-attentive to the lute,

In uncomplaining anguish pines:
The crystal waters weep away
And bear the tidings to the sea;
Neptune in the boisterous seas
Spreads the placid bed of peace,
While each blast

Or breathes its last,

Or just does sigh a symphony, and cease.

Neptune etc. etc.


Behold Arion on the stern he stands


Pall'd in theatrical attire,

To the mute strings he moves th' enliv'ning hands, Great in distress, and wakes the golden lyre:

While in a tender Orthian strain

He thus accosts the mistress of the main:

By the bright beams of Cynthia's eyes,
Through which your waves attracted rise,
And actuate the hoary deep;

By the secret coral cell,

Where love, and joy, and Neptune dwell,

*) Name eines Flusses der durch Rochester fliefst.

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