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Your righteous zeal the brave Brigantes warın'd, Enough has Winter's hand severe
Chastis'd this dreary coast,
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 blooms, alas ! no more;
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,
ODE TO SUMMER.
BY A GENTLEMAN OF CAMBRIDGE,
Hall, gentle Summer, to this isle !
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.
While yon few sheep enjoy the breeze,
That softly dies upon the trees, Thus you furnish with emblems whenever I sing
And rest beneath the shade;
This pipe, which Damon gave, shall raise
And ask the Muse's aid.
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
Is vanish'd from the eye;
No Philomel is nigh.
(For well I ween her plaintive note
Can soothing ease impart;
Relieve the wounded heart.)
No blushing rose unfolds its bloom,
No tender lilies blow,
To scent the air with rich perfume,
Or grace Luciada's brow.
Th' indulgent Father who protects
The wretched and the poor ;
With the same gracious care directs
Dark, scowling tempests rend the skies
And clouds obscure the day;
His genial warmth the Sun denies,
And sheds a fainter ray.
Yet blame we pot the troubled air,
Or seek defects to find;
[tween For Power Omnipotent is there,
In wedlock's pleasing ties ;
That blessing to the wise !
Though yon pale orb no warmth bestows,
And storms united meet;
The fame of love and friendship glows
With unextinguish'd heat.
Such is of well-spent life the time,
TO HIS GRACZ THE LORD ARCHBISHOP OF
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,
Through the still valley winds his secret way.
Yet from his lowly bed with transport sees
In fair exposure noblest villas rise,
Hamlets embosom'd deep in antient trees,
And spires that point with reverence to the
O woodland hills ! that gently rising swell;
Where peace and joy and rich abundance
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 ;
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
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
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
"A river in Kent.
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,
November 15, 1760.
A PARODY ON A PASSAGE IN
MILTON'S PARADISE LOST.
Beneath a beech's bowery shade
Damon in masing mood was laid,
A brook soft-dimpling by his side,
Thus echo, as he sung, reply'd :
Soft melody the sky-lark trills,
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."
THE LORD'S PRAYER.
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.
For thy supreme dominion we adore;
DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER With copious tears bedew'd the patriot's tomh;
SAUL AND JONATHAN.
SAMUEL, BOOK II. CHAPTER 1.
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
A GOOD WIFE.
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.
And to her damsels separate tasks assigns:
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.
Jour'd to toils she strength and sweetness joins,
With joy her goodly merchandise she views, THE PICTURE OF OLD-AGE,
And oft till mom her pleasing work pursues.
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,
PARAPHRASED FROM THE SEVEN FIRST VERSES OF
THE TWELFTH CHAPTER OF ECCLESIASTES.