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But Hymen's kinder flames unite;

And burn for ever one;
Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh fource of ev'ry focial tye,

United wifh, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, hufband, friend?
Whether his hoary fire he fpies,

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While thousand grateful thoughts arife;

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Or meets his fpoufe's fonder eye;

Or views his smiling progeny;

What tender paffions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move?

His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
With rev'rence, hope, and love.

CHORU S.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes, Hence falfe tears, deceits, difguifes, Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes;

Fires that fcorch, yet dare not shine:

Pureft love's unwafting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure,
Days of eafe, and nights of pleasure;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

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ODE on SOLITUDE.

HAPPY the man, whose wish and care

few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread; 5
Whofe flocks fupply him with attire,
Whofe trees in fummer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years flide foft away,

In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Together mixt; fweet recreation :

And innocence, which moft does please.
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone,

Tell where I lie.

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a This was a very early production of our Author, written at

about twelve years old.

The dying Chriftian to his SouL.

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O DE,

I.

ITAL fpark of heav'nly flame :
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!
Ceafe, fond Nature, ceafe thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life.

II.

Hark! they whisper; Angels fay,
Sifter Spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite ?

Steals my fenfes, thuts my fight,

Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

III.

The world recedes; it difappears!

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IQ

Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears

With founds feraphic ring:

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Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!

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ΑΝ

ESSAY

ON

CRITICISM.

Written in the Year м DCC IX.

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