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So while the toils are spread, and from behind l'll raise my voice to tell mankind
How in the grave he lay confin'd, llects his powers, and rouses all his rage:
To seal more sure the ravenous tomb. roly he grinds his fangs, he weighs his might, Three days th' infernal enpire to subdue, -d whets his dreadful talents for the fight; He pass'd triumphant through the coasts of woe; en to his young he bears his foe away,
With his own dart the tyrant death he flew, D3 foe at once the chaser and the prey,
And led hell captive through her realms below. cus on his brother he in every thought, ged future wars, and battles yet unfought.
A mingled sound from Calvary I hear,
The shouts of murderers that insult the flain, | THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GENTLE.
The voice of torment and the shrieks of pain. MAN.
I cast my eyes with horror up Ta joy, blest youth, we saw thee rcach the
To the curīt mountain's guilty top; goal;
See there! whon hanging in the midst I view !
Ah! how unlike the other two ! was thy frame, and beautiful thy soul; • graces and the muses came combin'd,
I see him high above his foes, se to adorn the body, those the mind;
And gently bending to the wood was there we saw the softest manners mcet,
His head in pity down to those, ith, sweetness, judgment, innocence, and wit.
Whose guilt conspires to shed his blood. orm'd, he flew his race ; 'twas quickly won,
His wide-extended arms I see, las but a step, and finish'd when begun.
Transfix'd with nails, and fafiend to the tree. ure herself surpris'd would add no more,
Man! senseless man! canst thou look on? life complete in all its parts before ;
Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own. his few years with pleasing wonder told,
The rage of all thy pain exert, virtues, not by days; and thought him old.
Rend thy garments and thy heart : ar beyond his age those virtues ran,
Beat thy breast, and grovel low, it in a boy she found him more than man.
Beneath the burden of thy woe; years let wretches importune the skies,
Blecd through thy bowels, tear thy hairs, , at the long expence of anguish wise,
Breathe gales of lighs, and weep a flood of tears. y live, to count their days by miseries. se win the prize, who fooncst run the race,
Behold thy King with purple cover'd round, i life burns brightest in the shortest space.
Not in the Tyrian tincture dy'd, to the convex glass embody'd run,
Nor dipt in poison of Sidonian pride, iwn to a point the glories of the sun;
But in his own rich blood that Itreams from eveence the gathering beams intensely glow,
ty wound. -] through the itreighten'd circle fiercely flow :
Dost thou not see the thorny circle red ? ine Itrong flame conspire the blended rays,
The guilty wreathe that blushes round his head ? 2 to a fire, and crowd into a blaze.
And with what rage the bloody scourge apply'd,
Curls round his limbs, and ploughs into his lide! CHRIST'S PASSION,
Ae such a fight let all thy anguish rise, rem a Greek Ode of Mr. Martin's, formerly of
Break up, break up the fountains of thy eyes. New Cellege.
Here bid thy tears in gushing torrents flow,
Indulge thy grief, and give a loose to woe.
Weep from thy soul, till earth be drown'd,
Weep, till thy sorrows drench the ground. more of earthly subje&s sing,
Canit thou, ungrateful man! his torment see, To heaven, my muse, aspire ;
Nor drop a tcas for him, who pours his blood for saise the song, charge every string,
thee? And strike the living lyre. En; in lofty numbers thow
ON THE KING'S RETURN,
IN THE YEAR 1720.
RETURN, auspicious prince, again, Higious pile of wonders ! rais'J too high Nor lec Britannia mourn in vain; the dim ken of frail mortality.
Too long, too long, has the deplor'd What nunibers shall I bring along!
Her absent father and her lord. com whence thall 1 begin the long?
To bend her gracious monarch's mind, mighty mystery I'll ting inspir'd
She fends her fighs in every wind : -nd the reach of human wisdom wrought,
Can Britain's prayer be thrown alide ? end the compass of an angel's thought,
And that the first he e'er deny'd ! - by the rage of man his God expir'd. zake the crackless depths of mercy known, Yet, mighey prince, vouchfase to smile, 50 redeem his foe God render'd up his Son; Return and bless our longing illo; A
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Though fond Germania hegs thy stay,
Whoring till now a common trade has beea, And courts chee from our eyes away.
But masquerades refine upon the fin :
An higher tafte to wickedoels impart, Though Belgia would our king detain,
And second nature with the helps of art. We know the begs and pleads in vain ;
New ways and means to pleasures we device
, We know our gracious king prefers
Since pleasure looks the lovelier in disguise. Britannia's happiness to her's.
The sealth and frolic give a smarter gul, And lo! to save us from despair,
Add wit to vice, and eloquence to lut. At length he listens to our prayer.
In vain the modifh evil to redress, Deje&cd Albion's vows he hears,
At once conspire the pulpit and the press: And hastes to dry her falling tears.
Our priests and poets preach and write ia sa
All satyr's lost both sacred and profane, He hears his anxious people pray,
So many various changes to inpart, And loudly call their king away,
Would tire an Ovid or a Proceus' art; Once more their longing eyes to bless,
Where lost in one promiscuous whim we face And guard their freedom and their peace.
Sex, age, condition, quality, degree.
Where the facetious crowd themselves lay do Th seasons glide with pleasure on;
And take up every person but their own. The British funs improve their rays,
Fools, dukes, rakes, cardinals, fops, Indian Adorn, and beautify the days.
Belles in tic-wigs, and lords in harlequins;
Troops of right honourable posters come, But see the royal vessel fließ,
And garter'd small-coal-merchants crowdthes Lessening to Belgia's weeping eyes;
Valets adorn'd with coronets appear, She proudly sails for Albion's Thores,
Lacqueys of state, and foormen with a far: Guard her, ye gods, with all your powers. Sailors of quality with judges mix, O sea, bid cvery wave subside,
And chimney-sweepers drive their coach and And teach allegiance to thy tide;
Statesmer so us'd at court the mask to wea", Thy billows in subjection keep,
With less disguise assume the vizor here. And own the the monarch of deep.
Officious Heydegger deceives our eyes,
For his own person is his best disguise : Old Thames can scarce his joy sustain,
And half the reigning toasts of equal grace
, But runs down headlong to the main,
Trust to the natural vizor of the face. His mighty master to descry,
Ideots turn conjurers; and courtiers clows And leaves his spacious channel dry.
And sultans drop their handkerchiefs to Augustaʼs fons from either hand
Scarch'd quakers glare in furbelows and fix Pour forth, and darken all the strand;
Beaux deal in (prats, and duchesses cry at Their eyes pursue the royal barge,
But guard thy fancy, muse, nor stain thy F Which now resigns her sacred charge,
With the lewd joys of this fantastic scene;
Where sexes blend in one confus'd intrigse, Th’unruly transport shakes the shore,
Where the girls ravish, and the men gror And drowns the feeble cannon's roar ;
Nor credit what the idle world has said, The nations in the light rejoice,
Of lawyers forc'd, and judges brought to be! And send their souls in every voice.
Or that to belles their brothers breathe therr But now amidst the loud applause,
Or husbands through mistake gallant a pock
. With thame the conscious muse withdraws,
Such dire disasters, and a numerous throng Nor can her voice be heard amidt the throng,
Of like enormities, require the song :
But the chaste muse, with blushes cover'd o's
ON THE MASQUERADES. " Si Natura negant, facit indignatio versum.” Well-we have reach'd the precipice at last ;
The present age of vice obscures the past. Our dull forefathers were content to stay, Nor sinn'd, till nature pointed out the way: No arts they practis'd to forestal delight, Bur stopp'd to wait the calls of appetite. Their top-debauches were at belt precise, An unimproy'd simplicity of vice.
But this bleft age has found a fairer road, And left the paths their ancestors had trod. Nay, we could wear (our taste so very nice is) Their old caft-fashions fooner than their vices.
ON A SHADOW.
By empty Shows betray'd ?
A nothing or a shade.
A soldier on the wars;
Brats, poverty, and scars.
Will leave unturn'd no itone;
By the same rock the chemiats drown,
Your pen no partial prejudices sway, And find no friendly hold,
Bue truth decides, and virtue wins the day. But melt their ready specie down,
Through what gay fields and flowery scenes we In hopes of fancy'd gold.
pass, Vhat is the mad proje&or's care?
Where fancy sports, and fi Aion leads the chase? In hopes elate and swelling,
Where life, as through her various acts she tends, le builds his castles in the air,
Like other comedies, in marriage ends.
What muse but yours so juftly could display Yet wants an house to dwell in.
Thienbattled passions marshall'J in array? it court the poor dependants fail,
Bid the rang'd appetites in order move, And damn their fruitless toil,
Give luft a figure, and a shape to love? When complimented thence to jail,
To airy notions solid forms dispense, And ruin'd with a smile.
And make our thoughts the images of sense?
Discover all the rational machine, (within ? Tow to philosophers will sound
And show the movements, springs, and wheels - So strange a iruth display'd ?
But Hymen waves his torch, all discords cease; There's not a substance to be found,
All parley, drop their arms, and sue for peace. I" Lut every where a shade.”
Soon as the signal flames, they quit the fight,
For all at first but differ'd to unite.
From every part the lines in order move,
Let blockheads to the multy schools repair, PHILE Cælia's hands fly swiftly o'er,
And poach for morals and the passions chere, And Strike this init machine,
Where virtue, like a dwarf in giant's arms, ler touch awakes the springs, and lise
Cumber'd with words, and manacled in terms, Of harmony within.
Serves to amuse the philosophic fool,
By method dry, and regularly dull. weetly they fink into the strings,
Who fees thy lines so visibly express The quivering ftrings rebound,
The soul berself in such a pleasing dress; ach stroke obsequiously obey,
May from thy labours be convinc'd and taught, And tremble into found.
How Spenser would have sung, and Plato thoughe. Oh! had you bleft the years of old; His lute had Ovid ftrung,
THE TWELFTHODE OF THE FIRST BOOK ind dwelt on your's, the charming theme
OF HORACE, TRANSLATED. Of his immortal song.
What man, what hero will you raise, Tours, with Arion's wondrous harp,
By the shrill pipe, or deeper lyre? The bard had hung on high;
What God, o Clio, will you praise, Lad on the new-born star beltow'd
And teach the echoes to admire ? The honours of the sky.
Amidst the shades of Helicon, The radiant spheres had ceas'd their tunes,
Cold Hæmus' tops, or Pindus' head, And danc'd in silence on,
Whence the glad forests haften'd down, Pleas'd the new harmony to hear,
And danc'd as tuneful Orpheus play'd. More heavenly than their own.
Taught by the muse, he stop'd the fall of old to raise one fade from hell,
Of rapid floods, and charm'd the wind; To Orpheus was it given:
The listening caks obey'd the call, But every tune of your's calls down
And left their wondering hills behind. An angel from his heaven.
Whom should I first record, but Jove,
Whose sway excend: o'er fra and land,
The king of men and gods above,
Who holds the seasons in command?.
To rival Jove, shall none aspire,
None Thali to equal glory rise; iupplies materials to the builder's art :
Bur Pallas claims beneath her fire, To build from matter, is fublimely great,
The second honours of the skies. But gods and poets only can create;
To thee, O Bacchus, great in war,
To Dian will I frike the string,
Of Phæbus wounding from afar,
In numbers like his own l'll fing.
The muse Alcides shall resound;
The twins of Leda Mhall succeed; in faithful lines her history declare,
This for the standing fight renown'd, And trace the causes of her civil war;
And that for managing the steed.
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Whose Iar shines innocently fill;
A beast so huge, nor Dunia's grore, The clouds disperse, the tempests cease,
Nor Afric ever view'd ; The waves obedient to their will,
Though nurit by her, the lion reigns Sink down, and hush their rage to peace.
The monarch of the wood. Next Mall i Numa's pious reign,
Expose me in those horrid climes, Or thine, O Romulus, relate :
Where not a gentle breeze Or Rome by Brutus free'd again,
Revives the vegetable race, Or haughty Cato's glorious fate?
Or cheers the drooping trees. Or dwell on poble Paulus' fame?
Where on the world's remoteft verge Too lavish of the patriot's blood ?
Th' unactive seasons lie, Or Regulus' immortal name,
And not one genial ray unbinds Too obstinately just and good ?
The rigour of the sky. There with Camillus brave and bold,
On that uninhabitable fhore, And other chiefs of matchless might,
Expose me all alone, Rome's virtuous poverty of old,
Where I may view without a shade, Severely reasop'd to the fight.
The culminating sun. Like trees, Marcellus' glory grows,
Beneath th' equator, or the pole, With an insensible advance;
In fafety could I rove; The Julian ftar, like Cynthia, glows,
And in a thousand different climes
Could live for her I love.
A PROLOGUE FOR THE STROLLER:
GENTEELS, of old pert prologues led the way, And whether India he shall tame,
To guide, defend, and usher in the play,
As powder'd footmen sup before the coach, Or to his chains the Seres doom;
and thunder at the door my lurd's approach Or mighty Parthia dreads his name,
But though they speak your entertainment ki, And bows her haughty neck to Rome.
Molt prologues speed like other bills of sare; While on our groves thy bolis are hurl'd, Seldom the languid ftomach they excite,
And thy loud car fhakes heaven above, And oftener pall, thau raise the appetite. He shall with justice awe the world,
As for the play--'cis hardly worth our ce To none inferior but to Jovę.
'The prologue craves your mercy for the plja.
That is, your money--for by Jove I swear, THE TWENTY-SECOND ODE OF THE White gloves and lodging are confounded dea: FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.
Since here are none but friends, the truth to it
Hasp'd in a coach our company came down, The man unsully'd with a crime,
But I most shrewdiy fear we fall depart, Disdains the pangs of fear,
Ev’n in our old original, a cart. He scorps to dip the poison'd shaft,
With pride inverted, and fantastic power, Or poife the glittering spear.
We strut the fancy'd monarchs of an hour; Nor with the loaded quiver goce
While duns our emperors and heroes fear, To take the dreadful field :
And * Cleomenes farves in earnest here: His folid virtue is his helm,
The mightiest kings and qucens we keep ia psy. And innocence his shield.
Support their pomp on eighteev- pence a day.
Great Cyrus for a dram has pawn'd his coat, In vain the fam'd Hydalpes' tides,
And all our Cæsars can't command a groar; Obitruct and bar the road,
Our Scipios, Hannibals, and Pompeys break, He smiles on danger, and enjoys
And Cicopatra fifts but once a week. The roarings of the flood.
To'aggravate the case, we have not one, All climes are native, and forgets
Of all the new refinements of the tows : Th' extremes of heats and froits,
No moving starucs, no lewd harlequins, The Scythian Caucasus grows warm,
No palleboard players, no heroes in niachines; And cool the Libyan coasts.
No rofin to Qash lightning-'twould exhauß
To buy a 'devil and a Doctor Fauftus. For while I wander'd through the woods,
No windniills, dragons, millers, conjurers, And rang'd the lonely grove,
To exercise your eyes, and spare your cars; Lol and bewilder'd in the songs And pleasing cares of love ;
No paper seas, po thunder from the skics,
No witches to descend, no ítage to rue; A wolf beheld me from afar,
Scarce one for us the actors we can set Of monitrous bulk and night;
Nothing before you but mere fense and wit. But, naked as I was, he fled Ard uembl.d at the fight.
* The Spartan Here, a tragedy, by Mr. Das
hare downright old-fashion'd English feast, For he within the gloomy deeps ch as true Britons only can digeft;
Its dark foundations cait, ch as your homely fathers usd to love,
And rear'd the pillars of the earth ho only came to hear and to improve :
Amid the watcry waste. nibly content and pleas'd with what was drest, who shall alcend his Sion's hill, hen Orway, Lee, and Shakspeare rang'd the feast.
And see Jehovah there?
Whw from his sacred shrine shall breathe PSALM VIII. TRANSLATED.
The facrifice of prayer ?
He only whose unfully'd soul KING eternal and divine !
Fair virtue's paths has trod, The world is thine alone :
Who with clean hands and heart regards -ove the stars thy glorics shine, Above the heavens thy throne.
His neighbour and his God.
On hin Mall his indulgent Lord w for extends thy mighty name !
Diffusive bounties shod, Where'er the sun can roll, lat sun thy wonders shall proclaim,
From God his Saviour Thall descend
All bleflings on his head. Thy deeds from pole to pole. le infant's tongue shall speak thy power,
of those who seek his righteous ways,
Is this the chosen race, And vindicate thy laws;
Who bask in all his bounteous smiles, le tongue that never spoke before,
And flourish in his grace. Shall labour in thy cause. r when I list my thoughts and eyes,
Lift up your fately heads, ye doors, And view the heavens around,
With halty reverence rise; in stretching walte of azure skies,
Ye everlasting doors, who guard With stars and planets crown'd;
The passes of the skies.
Swift from your golden hinges leap, ho in their dance attend the moon,
Your barriers roll away, The empress of the night,
Now throw your blazing portals wide, id pour around her filver throne,
And burst the gates of day. Their tributary lighe : ird! what is mortal man? that he
For see! the King of glory comes Thy kind regard ihould share ?
Along th'ethereal road: hat is his son, who claims from thee
The cherubs through your folds shall bear And challenges thy care?
The triumph of your God. ixt to the bleft angelic kind,
Who is this great and glorious King?
Oh! 'tis the Lord, whose might Thy hands created man, nd this inferior world allign'd,
Decides the conquest, and suspends
The balance of the fight. To dignify his fpan.
Lift up your stately heads, ye doors, im all revere, and all obey
With hafty reverence rise; His delegated reign,
Ye everlasting doors, who guard ne flodis chat through the valley fray,
The passes of the skies. The herds that graze the plain.
Swift from your golden hinges leap, e farious tiger speeds his flight,
Your barriers roll away, And trembles at his power;'
New throw your blazing portals wide, fear of his superior night,
And burst the gates of day. The lioos cease to roar.
For see! the King of glory comes hatever horrid monsters tread
Along th'ethereal road: The paths beneath the sea,
The cherubs through your folds shall bear heir king at awful distance dread,
The triumphs of their Gud. And sullenly obey.
Who is this great and glorious King? Lord, how far extends thy name !
Oh! 'tis the God, whose care Where'er the sun can roll,
Leads on his Israel to the field, hat fun thy wonders fhall proclaim;
Whose power controuls the war, Thy deeds from pole to pole.
PSALM XXIX. PSALM XXIV. PARAPHRASED. Ye mighty princes, your oblations bring,
And pay due honours to your awful King; AR as the world can stretch its bounds,
His boundless power to all the world proclaim, The Lord is king of all,
Bend at his fhrinc, and tremble at his name. is wondrous power extends around
For hark : his voice with unrefifted (way The circuit of the balle
Rulcs and controuls thc raging of the Sea: