Unequal thought whilft all we apprehend
Is, that our hopes must rife, our forrows end,
As our Creator deigns to be our friend.

I faid;-and inftant bad the priests prepare
The ritual facrifice and folemn prayer.
Select from vulgar herds,. with garlands gay,
A hundred bulls afcend the facred way.
The artful youth proceed to form the choir;
They breathe the flute, or ftrike the vocal wire.
The maids in comely order next advance;
They beat the timbrel, and inftruct the dance.
Follows the chofen tribe from Levi fprung,
Chaunting, by juft return, the holy fong.
Along the choir in folemn ftate they paft:
-The anxious king came last.
The facred hymn perform'd, my promis'd vow
I paid; and, bowing at the altar low,

Father of heaven! (I said) and Judge of earth! Whose word call'd out this universe to birth; By whose kind power and influencing care The various creatures move, and live, and are; But, ceafing once that care, withdrawn that power, They move (alas!) and live, and are no more: Omniscient Mafter, omniprefent King, To thee, to thee, my last distress I bring.

Thou, that canft still the raging of the feas, Chain up the winds, and bids the tempefts ceafe! Redeem my fhipwreck'd foul from raging gufts Of cruel paffion and deceitful lufts:

From ftorms of rage, and dangerous rocks of pride,

Let thy strong hand this little vessel guide
(It was thy hand that made it) through the tide
Impetuous of this life: let thy command
Direct my course, and bring me safe to land!
If, while this weary'd flesh draws fleeting
breath,

Not fatisfy'd with life, afraid of death,
It haply be thy will, that I should know
Glimpfe of delight, or pause from anxious woe;
From now, from inftant now, great Sire! difpel
The clouds that prefs my foul; from now reveal
A gracious beam of light; from now inspire
My tongue to fing, my hand to touch the lyre;
My open thought to joyous prospects raise,
And for thy mercy let me fing thy praise,
Or, if thy will ordains I still shall wait
Some new hereafter, and a future ftate,
Permit me ftrength, my weight of woe to bear,
And raise my mind fuperior to my care.
Let me, howe'er unable to explain

The fecret labyrinths of thy ways to man,
With humble zeal confefs thy awful power;
Still weeping hope, and wondering ftill adore.
So in my conquest be thy might declar'd,
And for thy justice be thy name rever'd.

My prayer scarce ended, a ftupendous gloom
Darkens the air; loud thunder fhakes the dome.
To the beginning miracle fucceed

An awful filence and religious dread.
Sudden breaks forth a more than common day;
The facred wood, which on the altar lay,
Untouch'd, unlighted, glows--
Ambrofial odour, fuch as never flows
From Arab's gum, or the Sabæan roft,

Does round the air evolving fcents diffufe:
The holy ground is wet with heavenly dews:
Celestial mufic (fuch Jeffides' lyre,

Such Miriam's timbrel, would in vain require)
Strikes to my thought through my admiring ear,
With ecftacy too fine, and pleasure hard to bear,
And lo! what fees my ravish'd eye? what feels
My wond'ring foul? An opening cloud reveals
An heavenly form, embody'd, and array'd
With robes of light. I heard. The angel faid :
Cease, man of woman born, to hope relief
From daily trouble and continued grief;
Thy hope of joy deliver to the wind,
Supprefs thy paffions, and prepare thy mind;
Free and familiar with misfortune grow,
Be us'd to forrow, and inur'd to woe;
By weakening toil and hoary age o'ercome,
See thy decrease, and haften to thy tomb;
Leave to thy children tumult, ftrife, and war,
Portions of toil, and legacies of care;
Send the fucceffive ills through ages down,
And let each weeping father tell his son,
That deeper ftruck, and more distinctly griev'd,
He muft augment the forrows he receiv'd.

The child, to whofe fuccefs thy hope is hound,
Ere thou art fcarce interr'd, or he is crown'd,
To luft of arbitrary sway inclin'ď.

(That curfed poison to the prince's mind !)
Shall from thy dictates and his duty rove,
And lofe his great defence, his people's love;
Ill-counsell'd, vanquifh'd, fugitive, difgrac'd,
Shall mourn the fame of Jacob's ftrength effac'd;"
Shall figh the king diminish'd, and the crown
With leffen'd rays defcending to his fon;
Shall fee the wreaths, his grandfire knew to reap
By active toil and military fweat,
Pining, incline their fickly leaves, and fhed'
Their falling honours from his giddy head;
By arms or prayer unable to affuage
Domestic horror and intestine rage,
Shall from the victor and the vanquish'd fear,
From Ifrael's arrow, and from Judah's fpear;
Shall caft his weary'd limbs on Jordan's flood,
By brother's arms difturb'd, and ftain'd with
kindred-blood.
[race,

Hence labouring years fhall weep their destin'd
Charg'd with ill omens, fully'd with difgrace.
Time, by neceffity compell'd, fhall go
Through fcenes of war, and epochas of woe.
The empire, leffen'd in a parted stream,

Shall lofe its courfe

ludulge thy tears: the heathen shall blafpheme; Judah fhall fall, opprefs'd by grief and fhanie, And men fhall from her ruins know her fame.

New Egypts yet and second bonds remain, A harfher Pharaoh, and a heavier chain. Again, obedient to a dire command, Thy captive fons fhall leave the promis'd land. Their name more low, their fervitude more vile, Shall on Euphrates' bank renew the grief of Nile.

These pointed fpires, that wound the ambient (Inglorious change.) fhall in deftruction lie [fky, Low, levell'd with the duft; their heights un known,

Or measur'd by their ruin. Yonder throne,

1

1

ENGRAVEN ON THREE SIDES OF AN ANTIQUE LAMP,

GIVEN BY ME TO LORD HARLEY.

Antiquam hanc Lampadem
è Museo Colbertino allatam,
Domino Harleo inter Κειμήλια fua
Reponendam D. D. Matthæus Prior.

This Lamp, which Prior to his Harley gave,
Brought from the altar of the Cyprian Dame,
Indulgent Time, through future ages fave,
Before the Mufe to burn with purer flame!

Sperne dilectum Vencris facellum,
San&ius, Lampas, tibi munus orno;
1,fove caflo vigil Harleianas
Igne Camœnas.

THE TURTLE AND SPARROW.

AN ELEGIAC TALE.

Occafioned by the death of Prince George, 1708.

BEHIND an unfrequented glade,
Where yew and myrtle mix their fhade,
A widow turtle pensive fat,
And wept her murder'd lover's fate.
The fparrow chanc'd that way to walk
(A bird that loves to chirp and talk);
Be fure he did the turtle greet;
She answer'd him as the thought meet.
Sparrows and turtles, by the bye,
Can think as well as you or I :
But how they did their thoughts exprefs,
The margin fhows by T and S.

T. My hopes are loft, my joys are fled;
Alas! I weep Columbo dead:
Come, all ye winged lovers, come,
Drop pinks and daifies on his tomb:
Sing, Philomel, his funeral verse;

Ye pious redbreasts, deck his hearse :
Fair swans, extend your dying throats,
Columbo's death requires your notes:
"For him, my friends, for him I moan,

My dear Columbo, dead and gone.”

Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies
Pale are his cheeks, and clos'd his eyes;
Those cheeks, where beauty fmiling lay
Those eyes, where love was us'd to play.
Ah cruel fate, alas! how foon
That beauty and those joys are flown!

Columbo is no more! ye floods,
Bear the fad found to diftant woods;
The found let echo's voice reftore,
And fay, Columbo is no more.
"Ye floods, ye woods, ye echoes, moan
"My dear Columbo, dead and gone."

The Dryads all forfook the wood,
And mournful Naiads round me flood,
The tripping fawns and fairies came,
All confcious of our mutual flame,
"To figh for him, with me to moan
"My dear Columbo, dead and gone."
Venus difdain'd not to appear,
To lend my grief a friendly ear;
But what avails her kindness now?
She ne'er fhall hear my fecond vow:
The loves, that round their mother flew,
Did in her face her forrows view;
Their drooping wings they penfive hung,
Their arrows broke, their bows unftrung;
They heard attentive what I faïd,
And wept, with me, Columbo dead :
"For him I figh, for him I moan,

My dear Columbo, dead and gone."
"'Tis ours to weep," great Venus said;
" 'Tis Jove's alone to be obey'd:
"Nor birds nor goddeffes can move
"The juft behefts of fatal Jove.
"I faw thy mate with fad regret,
"And curs'd the fowler's cruel net:
"Ah, dear Columbo! how he fell,
"Whom Turturella lov'd fo well!··
"I saw him bleeding on the ground,
"The fight tore up my ancient wound;
"And, whilft you wept, alas! I cry'd,
"Columbo and Adonis dy'd."

"Weep, all ye ftreams; ye mountains, groan; "I mourn Columbo, dead and gone;

"Still let my tender grief complain,

"Nor day nor night that grief restrain :"

I faid, and Venus ftill reply'd,

"Columbo and Adonis dy'd."

S. Poor Turturella, hard thy cafe, And just thy tears, alas, alas !

7. And haft thou lov'd, and canft thou hear With piteous heart a lover's care? Come then, with me thy forrows join, And ease my woes by telling thine : "For thou, poor bird, perhaps may'st moan "Some Pafferella dead and gone.

S. Dame Turtle, this runs foft in rhyme,
But neither fuits the place nor time;
The fowler's hand, whofe cruel care
For dear Columbo fet the fnare,
The fnare again for thee may fet;
Two birds may perish in one net :
Thou fhould't avoid this cruel field,
And forrow fhould to prudence yield.
'Tis fad to die!-

T. It may be fo;

'Tis fadder yet to live in woe.

S. When widows ufe this canting ftrain,

They feem refolv'd to wed again.

T. When widowers would this truth dif

prove,

They never tafted real love.

S. Love is foft joy and gentle strife,
His efforts all depend on life:

When he has thrown two golden darts,
And ftruck the lovers' mutual hearts,
Of his black shafts let death fend one,
Alas! the pleafing game is done;
Ill is the poor furvivor sped,
A corpfe feels mighty cold in bed.
Venus faid right-" nor tears can move,
"Nor plaints revoke the will of Jove.”

All must obey the general doom,
Down from Alcides to Tom Thumb.
Grim Pluto will not be withstood
By force or craft. Tall Robinhood,
As well as Little John, is dead
(You fee how deeply I am read):
With Fate's lean tipfaff none can dodge,
He'll find you out where'er you lodge.
Ajax, to fhun his general power,
In vain abfconded in a flower;
An idle fcene Tythonus acted,
When to a grasshopper contracted;
Death struck them in thofe fhapes again,'
As once he did when they were men.

For reptiles perifh, plants decay
Flefh is but grafs, grafs turns to hay,
And hay to dung, and dung to clay.

Thus heads extremely nice difcover That folks may die fome ten times over; But oft', by too refin'd a touch,

To prove things plain, they prove too much.
Whate'er Pythagoras may fay

(For cach, you know, will have his way),
With great fubmiffion I pronounce,
That people die no more than once:
But once is fure; and death is common
To bird and man, including woman;
From the spread eagle to the wren,
Alas no morta! fowl knows when;
All that wear feathers fitft or laft
Muft one day perch on Charon's maft;
VOL. VII.

Must lie beneath the cyprefs flade,
Where Strada's nightingale was laid.
Those fowl who seem alive to fit,
Affembled by Dan Chaucer's wit,
In profe have flept three hundred years,
Exempt. from worldly hopes and fears,
And, laid in ftate upon their herfe,
Are truly but embalm'd in verse.
As fure as Lefbia's fparrow I,
Thou fure as Prior's dove, muft die,
And ne'er again from Lethe's streams
Return to Adige, or to Thames.

T. I therefore weep Columbo dead, My hopes bereav'd, my pleafures fled; "I therefore muft for ever moan

My dear Columbo, dead and gone."
S. Columbo never fees your tears,
Your cries Columbo never hears;
A wall of brafs, and one of lead,
Divide the living from the dead.
Repell'd by this, the gather'd rain
Of tears beats back to earth again;
In t'other the collected found

Of groans, when once receiv'd, is drown'd.
'Tis therefore vain one hour to grieve
What time itself can ne'er retrieve.

By nature foft, I know a dove

Can never live without her love;
Then quit this flame, and light another;
Dame, I advife you like a brother.

T What, I to make a fecond choice!
In other nuptials to rejoice!

S. Why not, my bird?—

T. No, Sparrow, no ! Let me indulge my pleafing woe: Thus fighing, cooing, ease my pain, But never wish, nor love, again : Diftrefs'd, for ever let me moan

My dear Columbo, dead and gone." S. Our winged friends through all the grove Contemn thy mad excefs of love:

I tell thee, Dame, the other day

I met a parrot and a jay,

Who mock'd thee in their mimic tone,

And wept Columbo, dead and gone.'

T. Whate'er the jay or parrot faid, My hopes are loft, my joys are filed, And 1 for ever must deplore "Coluribo dead and gone."-S Encore! For fhame forfake this Bion-ftyle, We'll talk an hour, and walk a mile. Does it with fenfe or health agree, To fit thus moping on a tree? To throw away a widow's life, ˆ When you again may be a wife? Come on; I'll tell you my amours; Who knows but they may influence yours? "Example draws where precept fails, "And fermons are less read than tales."

T. Sparrow, I take thee for my friend,
As fuch will hear thee: I defcend
Hop on, and talk; but, honest bird,
Take care that no immodeft word
May venture to offend my ear.

S. Too faint-like turtle, never fear.
I i

By method things are beft difcours'd,
Begin we then with wife the first:
A handfome, fenfeless, awkward fool,
Who would not yield, and could not rule:
Her actions did her charms difgrace,
And fill her tongue talk'd of her face:
Count me the leaves on yonder tree,
So many different wills had the,
And, like the leaves, as chance inclin'd,

'Those wills were chang'd with every wind:
She courted the beau monde to-night,
L'affemblée, her supreme delight;
The next fhe fat immur'd, unfeen,
And in full health enjoy'd the spleen;
She cenfur'd that, fhe alter'd this,
And with great care fet all amifs;

She now could chide, now laugh, now cry,
Now fing, now pout, all God knows roby :
Short was her reign, fhe cough'd, and dy’d.
Proceed we to my fecond bride:
Well born fhe was, genteelly bred,
And buxom both at board and bed;
Glad to oblige, and pleas'd to please,
And, as Tom Southern wifely says,
"No other fault had she in life,
"But only that he was my wife *."
O widow Turtle! every fhe
(So nature's pleasure does decree)
Appears a goddess till enjoy'd;
But birds, and men, and gods are cloy'd.
Was Hercules one woman's man?
Or Jove for ever Leda's fwan?
Ah! madam, ceafe to be mistaken,
Few marry'd fowl peck Dunmow-bacon.
Variety alone gives joy,

The sweetest meats the foonest cloy.
What fparrow-dame, what dove alive,
Though Venus fhould the chariot drive,
But would accuse the harnefs weight,
If always coupled to one mate;
And often with the fetter broke?
'Tis freedom but to change the yoke.

T. Impious! to wish to wed again,
Ere death diffolv'd the former chain!

S. Spare your remark, and hear the reft; She brought me fons; but (Jove be blest!) She dy'd in child-bed on the nest.

Well, reft her bones! quoth I, fhe's gone;
But muft I therefore lie alone?
What am I to her memory ty'd?
Muft I not live, becaufe fhe dy'd?
And thus I logically faid

('Tis good to have a reasoning head!)
Is this my wife? Probatur not;

For death diffolv'd the marriage-knot:
She was, concedo, during life;

But, is a piece of clay a wife?
Again; if not a wife, d'ye fee,

Why then no kin at all to me :
And he, who general tears can shed
For folks that happen to be dead,
May e'en with equal justice mourn
For those who never yet were born.

* See The Wife's Excufe, a comedy."

T. Those points indeed you quaintly prove, But logic is no friend to love.

S. My children then were just pen-feather'd;
Some little corn for them I gather'd,
And sent them to my fpoufe's mother;
So left that brood, to get another:
And, as old Harry whilom said,
Reflecting on Anne Boleyn dead,
Cocksbones! I now again do stand
The jollieft bachelor i' th' land.

T. Ah me! my joys, my hopes, are fled;
My firft, my only love, is dead :
With endless grief let me bemoan
Columbo's lofs:-

S.-Let me go on.
As yet my fortune was but narrow,
I woo'd my coufin Philly Sparrow,
O' th' elder houfe of Chirping End,
From whence the younger branch descend.
Well feated in a field of peafe

She liv'd, extremely at her ease ;
But, when the honey-moon was paft,
The following nights were foon o'ercast;
She kept her own, could plead the law,
And quarrel for a barley-straw:
Both, you may judge, became lefs kind,
As more we knew each other's mind:
She foon grew fullen, I hard-hearted;
We fcolded, hated, fought, and parted.
To London, bleffed town! I went;
She boarded at a farm in Kent.
A magpye from the country fled,
And kindly told me she was dead :
I prun'd my feathers, cock'd my tail,
And fet my heart again to fale:

My fourth, a mere coquette, or such
I thought her; nor avails it much,
If true or falfe; our troubles fpring
More from the fancy than the thing.
Two ftaring horns, I often faid,
But ill become a fparrow's head;
But then, to fet that balance even,
Your cuckold fparrow goes to heaven.
The thing you fear, fuppofe it done,
If you inquire, you make it known.
Whilst at the root your horns are fore,
The more you scratch, they ache the more.
But turn the tables, and reflect,

All may not be that you suspect:

By the mind's eye, the horns we mean
Are only in ideas feen;

'Tis from the inûde of the head

Their branches fhoot, their antlers fpread;
Fruitful fufpicions often bear 'em,

You feel them from the time you fear 'em.
Cuckoo! Cuckoo ! that echoed word
Offends the ear of vulgar bird;
But thofe of finer taste have found
There's nothing in't befide the found.
Preferment always waits on horns,
And houfchold peace the gift adorns;
This way, or that, let factions tend,
The spark is ftill the cuckold's friend:
This way, or that, let madam roam,
Well pleas'd and quiet fhe comes home.