Your righteous zeal the brave Brigantes warın'd, Enough has Winter's hand severe
Silent they heard, approv'd, united, arın'd.

Chastis'd this dreary coast,
Ye gales, that on the downs of Surry stray,

And chill'd the tender dawning year Sleep on the Mole', or on the Vandal' play,

With desolating frost : From every flower medicioal that springs,

Give but thy vital beams to play, Waft balmy fragrance with your temperate

These ice-wrought scenes will melt away ; wings,

And, mix'd in sprightly dance, the blooming The grace, the glory of the church restore,

hours And save the friend, the father of the poor.

Will wake the drowsy Spring, the Spring awake

the flowers. And lo ! our prayers, with fervency preferr'd, Rise sweet as incense, and by Heav'n are heard :

Let Health, gay daughter of the skies, The genial season, with refreshing rains,

On Zephyr's wings descend, Bright-beaming mornings, health-exhaling plains,

And scatter pleasures, as she flies, And pure etherial gales, conspire to heal

Where Surry's downs extend: Our public father, for the public weal.

There Herring wooes her friendly power ; Oh! by kind Providence to Britain given,

There may she all her roses shower; Long may you live, and late revisit Heaven;

To heal that shepherd all her balms employ, Continue still to bless us with your stay,

So will she sooth our fears, and give a nation joy. Nor wish for Heav'n till we have learnt the

way. So by your pattern shall our years be spent

The grateful seasons, circling fast, In sweet tranquillity, and gay content ;

Reviving suns restore, So shall we rise immortal from the dust,

But life's short spring is quickly past,
And gain the blissful kingdoms of the just.

And blooms, alas ! no more;
Then let us, ere by sure decays

We reach the winter of our days,

la virtue emulate the bless'd above, TO MRS. HERRING.

And like the Spring display benevolence and love,

WITH FOUR ODES ON THE SEASONS.

SINCE your goodness poetical tribute demands,
Permit the four seasons to kiss your fair hands :

ODE TO SUMMER.
And if in rigbt colours your virtues ( view,
The seasons, dear madam, are emblems of you.

BY A GENTLEMAN OF CAMBRIDGE,
In the gentle Spring's delicate flow'rets I trace
The beams of your eyes, and the bloom of your Where Nature's fairest beauties smile,

Hall, gentle Summer, to this isle !
face :

And breathe in every plain; The bright glowing ardour of Summer I find

'Tis thine to bid each flower display, Express'd in your friendly, benevolent mind : As bountiful Autumn with plenty is crown'd,

And open to the eye of day

The glories of its reign.
Thus calm you distribute your blessings around:
Put with you how shall I cold Winter compare ?

While yon few sheep enjoy the breeze,
Your wit is as piercing and keen as the air:

That softly dies upon the trees, Thus you furnish with emblems whenever I sing

And rest beneath the shade;
Of Winter, or Autumn, or Summer, or Spring.

This pipe, which Damon gave, shall raise
Its rural notes to sing thy praise,

And ask the Muse's aid.

the year.

Happy the man whose vessel glides

Lo! Winter comes, in fogs array'd, Safe and unburt by passion's tides,

With ice and spangled dews; Nor courts the gusts of praise !

To dews, and fogs, and storms, be paid He sails with even, steady pace,

The tribute of the Muse. While virtue's full-blown beauties grace

Each flowery carpet Nature spread
The summer of his days.

Is vanish'd from the eye;
Where'er unhappy lovers tread,

No Philomel is nigh.
AN AUTUMNAL ODE.

(For well I ween her plaintive note

Can soothing ease impart;
TO MR. HAYMAN, THE PAINTER. The little warblings of her throat

Relieve the wounded heart.)
October 1754.

No blushing rose unfolds its bloom,
Yet once more, glorious god of day,

No tender lilies blow,
While beams thine orb serene,

To scent the air with rich perfume,
O let me warbling court thy stay

Or grace Luciada's brow.
To gild the fading scene !
Thy rays invigorate the Spring,

Th' indulgent Father who protects
Bright Summer to perfection bring,

The wretched and the poor ;
The cold inclemency of Winter cheer,

With the same gracious care directs
And make th’ Autumnal months the mildest of The sparrow to our door.

Dark, scowling tempests rend the skies
Ere yet the russet foliage fall,

And clouds obscure the day;
l'll climb the mountain's brow,

His genial warmth the Sun denies,

And sheds a fainter ray.
My friend, my Hayman, at thy call,
To view the scene below:

Yet blame we pot the troubled air,
How sweetly pleasing to behold

Or seek defects to find;
Forests of vegetable gold!

[tween For Power Omnipotent is there,
How mix'd the many chequer'd shades be- And walks npon the wind.
The tawny, mellowing hue, and the gay vivid Hail every pair whom love unites
green!

In wedlock's pleasing ties ;
How splendid all the sky! how still ! That endless source of pure delights,
How mild the dying gale !

That blessing to the wise !
How soft the whispers of the rill

Though yon pale orb no warmth bestows,
That winds along the vale!

And storms united meet;
So tranquil Nature's works appear,

The fame of love and friendship glows
It seems the Sabbath of the year :

With unextinguish'd heat.
As if, the Summer's labour past, she chose
This season's sober calm for blandishing repose.

Such is of well-spent life the time,
When busy days are past;

AN ODE
Man, verging gradual from his prime,
Meets sacred peace at last :

TO HIS GRACZ THE LORD ARCHBISHOP OF
His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er,

And Summer's full-blown pride no more, Pe gains pacific Autumn, mild and bland,

Thanks to the generous hand that plac'd me And dauntless braves the stroke of Winler's pal

here, sy'd hand.

Fast by the fountains of the silver Cray,

Who leading to the Thames his tribute clear,
For yet a while, a little while,

Through the still valley winds his secret way.
Involv'd in wintry gloom,
And lo! another spring shall smile,

Yet from his lowly bed with transport sees
A spring eternal bloom :

In fair exposure noblest villas rise,
Then shall he shine, a glorious guest,

Hamlets embosom'd deep in antient trees,
In the bright mansions of the blest,

And spires that point with reverence to the

skies.
Where due rewards on virtue are bestow'd,
And reap the golden fruits of what his autumn lovely dale! luxuriant with delight!
Sow'd.

O woodland hills ! that gently rising swell;
O streams! whose murmurs soft repose invite;

Where peace and joy and rich abundance
ODE ON WINTER.

dwell :

How shall my slender reed your praise resound BY A CENTLEMAN OF CAMBRIDGI.

In numbers worthy of the polish'd ear? From mountains of eternal snow,

What powers of strong expression can be found And Zembla's dreary plains ;

To thank the generous hand that plac'd me Where the bleak winds for ever blow,

here: And frost for ever reigns ;

CANTERBURY.

That gave each requisite of blissful life;

With freedom's voice to wake the slumbering Sweet leisure in sequester'd shades of Kent,

age, The softening virtues of a faithful wife,

To cheer fair merit, prowess to advance, And competence well sorted with content ? Dauntless to rise, and scourge with generous rage For these, if I forget my patron's praise,

The high-plum'd pride and perfidy of France. Wbile bright ideas dance upon my mind, Alas! no longer burns the glorious flame: Ne'er may these eyes behold auspicious days, The patriot passion animates no more ; May friends prove faithless, and the Muse But, like the whirling eddy, some low aim unkind.

Absorbs alike the great, the rich, the poor. May 1756.

Not so, when wise Aurelius o'er the north

Shed the mild influence of his pastoral care, The madness of rebellion issuing forth,

He stemm'd the torrent of the rising war. AURELIUS:

Behold him! with his country's weal inspird, AN ELEGY.

Before the martial sons of Ebor stand,

Fair in the robe of eloquence attir'd, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS HERRING, D D.

In act to speak, he waves the graceful hand : LATE LORD ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY.

Silent as evening, lo! the listening throng, Quicquid ex illo amavimus, quicquid mirati su

While from his lips the glowing periods fall, mus, manet mansurumque est in animis ho

Drink sweet persuasion streaming from his minum, in æternitate temporum, famâ re

tongue, rum.

TACIT, Vit. Agric.

And the firm chain of concord binds them all. Fast by the fountains of the silver Cray' As some large river, gentle, strong, and deep,

Encircled deep with weeping willows round, Winds his smooth volumes o'er the wide camO! let me sorrowing pass the pensive day,

paign, And wake my reed to many a plaintive sound. Then forceful flows, and with resistless sweep, For good Aurelius (now alas ! no more)

Rolls, in his strength collected, to the main : Sighs follow sighs, and tears to tears succeed; Thus the good prelate, in his country's cause, Him shall the Muse in tenderest notes deplore, Pour'd the full tide of eloquence along ; For oft he tun'd to melody my reed.

As erst Tyrtæus gain'd divine applause, How was I late by bis indulgence blest,

Who fir'd the Spartans with heroic song. Cheer'd with his smiles, and by his precepts But when religious truths his bosom warm'd, taught !

Faith, hope, repentance, and eternal love, My fancy deem'd him some angelic guest, With such pathetic energy he charm'd, Some Heaven-sent guide, with blissful tidings He rais'd our souls to Paradise above, fraught.

The holy city's adamantine gate
Mild was his aspect, full of truth and grace, On golden hinge he opend to our view;

Temper'd with dignity and lively sense ; Unravell’d every path, perplex'd and strait, Sweetness and candour beam'd upon his face, And gave to willing minds the safe-conducting Emblems of love and large benevolence.

clew. Yet never useless slept those virtues fair, For God's Messiah was his chosen 'guide; Nor languish'd unexerted in the mind;

And well the sacred lore be understood, Secret as thought, yet unconfin'd as air, And well the precept, sent from Heaven, apply'd,

He dealt his bounties out to all mankind, “ For evil meekly recompensing good.” How will the poor, alas! now truly poor, Thus mild, thus humble, in the highest state, Bewail their generous benefactor dead?

The “onething needful”' was his sole regard Who daily, from his hospitable door,

Belov'd, and blamelesss he prolong'd his date The naked cloth’d, and gave the hungry By acts of goodness, which themselves reward. bread.

To him the bed of sickness gave no pain; To sick and orphans duly sent relief,

For, trusting only in th’ Almiş rty King, Was feet and eyes to cripples and the blind, He look'd on dissolution as his gain; Sooth'd all the suffering farnily of grief,

No terrours had the grave, and death no sting. And pour'd sweet balsam on the wounded mind.

Ah! Muse, forbear that last sad scene to draw How will the nation their lost guardian mourn? This homage, due to virtue, let me pay,

Lo! pale-ey'd Science fix'd in grief appears; These heart-sprung tears, inspir'd by tilial awe, The drooping Arts, reclining on his urn,

These numbers warbled to the silver Cran
Lament, and every Muse dissolves in tears.
Genius of Britain! search the kingdom round,

May, 1757.
Ere yet the strict inquiry be too late;
What bold, unblemish'd patriot can be found',
To rouse the virtues of a languid state?

"A river in Kent.
. This poet was wrote in 1757.

a

Ан,

With joy, great prince, your happy subjects

A better Titus now reviv'd in you; (view ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOST SACRED MAJESTY

Of gentler nature, and of nobler blood,

Whose only study is your people's good : KING GEORGE THE SECOND. For you (so truly is your heart benign)

To beathen virtues christian graces join. H, fatal hour!-we must at last resign

O may Heaven's providence around you wait, Farewel, great hero of the Brunswick line!

And bless you with a longer, happier date; For valour much, for virtue more renown'd,

Then will your virtue all its powers display, With wisdom honour'd, and with glory crown'd.

And noble deeds distinguish every day; 'Twas thy bless'd lot a happy reign to close,

Joys unallay'd will sweetly fill your breast, And die serepe, triumphant o'er thy foes;

Your people blessing, by your people blest; To see the faithless, vain insulting Gaul,

Then will the rage of rancorons discord cease, Like proud Goliath, nodding to his fall;

The drooping arts revive, and all the world have In chains the sons of tyranny to bind,

peace.
And vindicate the rights of human kind.
No brighter crown than Britain's God could

November 15, 1760.
give
To grace the monarch, till he ceas'd to live;
Then gave him, to reward his virtuous strife,
A heavenly kingdom, and a crown of life.

A PARODY ON A PASSAGE IN
October 26, 1760.

MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.

BOOK IV.

Beneath a beech's bowery shade
TO HIS MOST SACRED MAJESTY

Damon in masing mood was laid,
ON HIS ACCESSION.

A brook soft-dimpling by his side,

Thus echo, as he sung, reply'd :
Jam nova progenies cælo dimittitur alto. VIRG. "Sweet is the breath of rosy morn,

Soft melody the sky-lark trills,
Whey now, the sad solemnity is o'er,

Bright are the dew-drops on the thorn, And death-denouncing bells are heard no niore, Fresh are the zephyrs on the hills, Nor pausing cannon in loud notes declare

Pure are the fountains in the vale below, A nation's grief, and rend the troubled air; And fair the flowers that on their borders blow: Deign, mighty prince, these gentler sounds to Yet neither breath of roseate morn, hear :

Nor wild notes which the sky-lark trills, Oh! were they worthy of the sovereign's ear, Nor dew.drops glittering on the thorn, The Muse should greet Britannia's blissful isle, Nor the fresh zephyrs of the hills, Where crown'd with liberty the graces smile; Nor streams that musically-murmuring firm, Where the pleas'd halcyon builds her tranquil Nor flowers that on their mossy margins grow, nest,

Can any joy suggest No storms disturb her, and no wars molest:

But to the temper'd breast, For still fair peace and plenty here remain'd,

Where virtue's animating ray While George, the venerable monarch, reign'd. Illumines every golden day, One generation pass'd secure away,

Beams on the mind, and makes all nature gay."
“ Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway;"
Now cold in death the much-lov'd hero lies,
His soul unbodied seeks her native skies:
The living laurels which bis temples crown'd

THE LORD'S PRAYER.
Strike root, and shade his funeral pile around.
As when the Sun, bright ruler of the year,

Fatuer of all, whose throne illumines Heaven, Through glowing Cancer rolls his golden sphere,

All honour to thy holy name be given. He gains new vigour as his orb declines,

Thy gracious kingdom come: thy righteous will And at the goal with double lustre shines :

Let men on Earth as saints in Heaven fulfil. In splendour thus great George's reign surpast, As we our debtors, thou our debts forgive.

Give us this day the bread by which we live: Bright beam'd each year, but brightest far the last :

Let not temptation lead us into woe: Where-ever waves could roll, or breezes blow,

Keep us from sin, and our ipfernal foe.
His flee" pour'd ruin on the faithless foe: (huri'd, Thy power, thy glory, is for evermore.

For thy supreme dominion we adore;
France saw, appall’d, the dreadful vengeance
And own'd him monarch of her western world.

Amen.
But now, alas! see pale Britania mourn,
And all her sons lamenting o'er his urn.
Thus when Vespasian died, imperial Rome

DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER With copious tears bedew'd the patriot's tomh;

SAUL AND JONATHAN.
But soon p'er sorrow bright-ey'd joy prevailid,
When Titus her lov'd emperor she hail'd;

SAMUEL, BOOK II. CHAPTER 1.
Titus, a blessing to the world design'd,

The flow'r of Israel withers on the plain; The darling and delight of buman-kind.

How are the mighty on the mountains slain!

In Gath, ah! never this dishonour name, Ere broke the pitcher at the fouhlful heart, Nor in the streets of Askelon proclaim;

Or life's wheel shiver'd, and the soul depart, Lest the sad tidings of our country's woe

Then shall the dust to native earth be given, Cause triumph to the daughters of the foe. The soul shall soar sublime, and wing its way to May Heav'n, Gilboa, on thy heights ne'er pour

Heaven.
The dew refreshing, or the fruitful shower;
Ne'er may thy furrows give the golden seed,
Nor from thy folds the fleecy victims bleed:
There mighty men through fear their shields re-

A GOOD WIFE.
sign'd,
The shield of Saul was basely left behind.

FROM PROVERBS, Chapter xxxi. Thy bow, O Jonathan, oft strew'd the plain More precions far than rubies, who can find With carcasses of valiant heroes slain;

A wife embellished with a virtuous mind : Thy sword, O Saul, ne'er left its sheath in vain. In her securely, as his better part, Blest pair ! whom love with sweetest concord tied, Her happy husband cheerful rests his heart : Whom glory join'd, and death cou'd not divide. With such a lovely partner of his toil Dreadful through all the war they mu'd along, His goods increase without the need of spoil. Swift as the eagle, as the lion strong. [drest Bless'd in the friendship of his faithful wife, Weep, weep for Saul, ye maids, whose hounty He steers through all vicissitudes of life. Israel's fair danghters in the scarlet vest; Well pleas'd she labours, nor disdains to cull Who gave you gold and pearls your robes to The textile flax, or weave the twisted wool. deck,

Rich as the merchant ships that crowd the And rings and jewels for your hands and neck.

strands,
Thy prowess, much lov'd Jonathan, prov'd vain ; She reaps the harvest of remotest lands.
How are the mighty on the mountains slain! Early she rises ere bright Phoebus shines,
To me, O Jonathan, for ever dear,

And to her damsels separate tasks assigns:
Thy fate, alas ! demands th' eternal tear : Refresh'd with food her hinds renew their toil,
Where can such faith, such piety be found ? And cheerful haste to cultivate the soil.
Such pleasing converse with firm friendship If to her farm some field contiguous lies,
bound?

With care she views it, and with prudence buys; Thy lore was wondrous, soothing all my care, And with the gains which Heaven to wisdoin Passing the fond affection of the fair.

grants,
How are the mighty on the mountains slain! A vineyard of delicious grapes she plants.
And all the instruments of battle vain!

Jour'd to toils she strength and sweetness joins,
Strength is the graceful girdle of her loins.

With joy her goodly merchandise she views, THE PICTURE OF OLD-AGE,

And oft till mom her pleasing work pursues.
The spindle twirls obedient to her tread,
Round rolls the wheel, and spins the ductile
Benignant from her ever-open door (thread.

She feeds the hungry, and relieves the poor. My son, attentive hear the voice of truth; Nor frost nor snow her family molest, Remember thy Creator in thy youth,

For all her household are in scarlet drest. Ere days of pale adversity appear,

Resplendent robes are by her husband worn, And age and sorrow fill the gloomy year, Her limbs fine purple and rich silks adorn : When wearied with vexation thou shalt say, For wisdom fam’d, for probity renown'd, "No rest by night I know, no joy by day;" He sits in council with bright honour crown'd. Ere the bright soul's enlighten'd pow'rs wax frail, To weave rich girdles is her softer care, [wear. Ere reason, memory, and fancy fail,

Which merchants buy, and mighty monarchs But care succeeds to care, and pain to pain, With strength and honour she herself arrays, As clouds urge clouds, returning after rain: And joy will bless her in the latter days. Ere yet the arms unnerv’d and feeble grow, Wise are her words, her sense divinely strong, The weak legs tremble, and the loose knees bow; For kindness is the tenour of her tongue. Ere yet the grinding of the teeth is o'er,

Fair rule and order in her mansion dwell, and the dim eyes behold the Sun no more; She eats with temperance what she earns so well. Ere yet the pallid lips forget to speak,

Rich in good works ber children call her blest, The gums are toothless, and the voice is weak; And thus her husband speaks his inmost breast: Restless he rises when the lark he hears,

“ To Eve's fair daughters various virtues fall, Yet sweetest music fails to charm his ears. But thou, lov'd charmer, hast excell'd them all." A stone, or hillock, turns his giddy brain,

Smiles ost are fraudful, beauty soon decays,
Appall'd with fear he totters o'er the plain; But the good woman shall inherit praise.
And as the almond-tree white flow'rs displays, To ber, O grateful, sweet requital give!
His head grows hoary with the length of days; Her name, her honour shall for ever live
As leanuess in the grasshopper prevails,
So shrinks his body, and his stomach fails;
Doom'd to the grave his last long home to go,
The mourners inarch along with solemn woe:
Ere yet life's silver cord be snapt in twain,
kre broke the golden buwl that holds the brain,

PARAPHRASED FROM THE SEVEN FIRST VERSES OF

THE TWELFTH CHAPTER OF ECCLESIASTES.