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Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins, and gentle hand to guide,
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft peace she brings, wherever she arrives:
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives:
Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even;
And opens in each heart a little Heaven.

Each other gift, which God on man bestows,
Its proper bound, and due restriction knows;
To one fixt purpose dedicates its power;
And, finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease:
But lasting Charity’s more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live,
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise re-

ceive.

As through the artist's intervening glass
Our eye observes the distant planets pass;
A little we discover; but allow,
That more remains unseen, than art can show.
So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble eye intent on things above)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope:
Yet are we able only to survey
Dawnings of beams, and promises of day.

Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell’d;
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.
Then constant faith, and holy hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy:
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office, and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum'd thy flame,
Shalt still survive
Shalt stand before the host of Heaven confest,
For ever blessing, for ever blest.

ENGRAVEN ON A COLUMN IN THE CHURCH OF HALSTEAD IN ESSEX. THE SPIRE OF WHICH, BURNT Down BY LIGHTNING, WAS REBUILT AT THE ExPENSE OF MR. SAMUEL FISKE, MDCCXVII."

VIEW not this spire by measure given
To buildings rais’d by common hands:

That fabric rises high as Heaven,
Whose basis on devotion stands.

1 The spire of this church was burnt by lightning in April, 1701, when, to prevent the flames from spreading, the supporters of the steeple were sawn asunder, and the whole

While yet we draw this vital breath,
We can our faith and hope declare :

But Charity beyond our death
Will ever in our works appear.

Best be he call'd among good men,
Who to is God this column rais'd :

Though lightning strike the dome” again,
The man, who built it, shall be prais'd.

fell into the churchyard. To record the liberality of Mr. Fiske, the following inscription, probably written by Mr. Prior is fixed on the south side of the chancel, on a large sheet of copper framed with wood.

JOHN MORIEY

To the memory of his
good friend and neighbour
dedicates this plate,
Obiit Apr. 21, 1718, aet. 64.
Samuel Fiske,
By descent a gentleman,
By profession an apothecary.
In his practice
honest, knowing, successful.
In his life
pious, just, and charitable.
The riches he acquired he used
as the means of doing good.
A friend to the public, a father to the poor,
A great benefactor to this town of Halstead,
More particularly
the spire of this church, burnt down by
lightning, he rebuilt at his own expense.
Anno 1717.

1 This has since actually happened. It hath a second time been destroyed by lightning, and rebuilt about 1765.

Yet spires and towers in dust shall lie,
The weak effort of human pains;

And faith and hope themselves shall die;
While deathless charity remains.

WRITTEN IN MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS, GIVEN TO THE DUKE of SHREWSBURY IN FRANCE,

AFTER THE PEACE, MDCCXIII.

DICTATE, O mighty judge, what thou hast seen Of cities, and of courts, of books, and men ; And deign to let thy servant hold the pen.

Through ages thus I may presume to live,
And from the transcript of thy prose receive
What my own short-liv'd verse can never give.

Thus shall fair Britain with a gracious smile
Accept the work; and the instructed isle,
For more than treaties made, shall bless my toil.

Nor longer hence the Gallic style preferr'd, Wisdom in English idiom shall be heard, [err'd While Talbot tells the world, where Montaigne

AN EPISTLE,
DESIRING THE QUEEN’s PICTURE.

witHTTEN AT PARIs, MDccxlv. BUT LEFT UNFINISHED, or

THE SUDDEN NEWS OF HER MAJESTY'S DEATH.

THE train of equipage and pomp of state,
The shining sideboard, and the burnish’d plate,
Let other ministers, great Anne, require,
And partial fall thy gift to their desire.
To the fair portrait of my sovereign dame,
To that alone eternal be my claim.
My bright defender, and my dread delight,
If ever I found favour in thy sight;
If all the pains that for thy Britain's sake
My past has took, or future life may take,
Begrateful to my Queen; permit my prayer,
And with this gift reward my total care.
Will thy indulgent hand, fair saint, allow
The boon? and will thy ear accept the vow *
That in despite of age, of impious flame,
And eating Time, thy picture like thy fame
Entire may last ; that as their eyes survey
The semblant shade, men yet unborn may say,
Thus great, thus gracious look’d Britannia's queen;
Her brow thus smooth, her look was thus serene;
When to a low, but to a loyal hand
The mighty empress gave her high command,

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