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2.

Not the wild Herd of Nymphs and Swains,
That thoughtless fly into the Chains

As Custom leads the way :
If there be Bliss without Design,
Ivies and Oaks may grow and twine,

And be as blest as they.
Not fordid Souls of Earthy Mould
Who drawn by kindred Charms of Gold,

To dull Embraces move:
So two rich Mountains of Peru,
May rush to wealthy Marriage too,

And make a World of Love.

Not the niad Tribe that Hell inspires
With wanton Flanies, thofe raging Fires

The purer Blifs destroy:
On Atas Top-let Furies wed,
And Sheets of Lightning dress the Bedi
T' improve the burning Joy.

s
Nor the dull Pairs whose Marble Forms,
None of the melting Passions warms,

Can mingle Hearts and Hands : Logs of green Wood that quench the Coals, Are marry'd just like Stoic Souls, With Osyers for their Bands.

6. Not Minds of melancholy Strain, Still filent, or that still complain,

Can the dear Bondage bless : As well may heavenly Consorts spring, From two old Lutes, with ne'er à String,

Or none besides the Base.

7. Nor can the soft Enchantments hold Two jarring Souls of angry Mould,

The rugged and the keen, Simpson's young Foxes might as well In Bonds of chearful Wedlock dwell, With Fire-Brands ty'd between..

8. Nor let the cruel Fetters bind? A gentle to a favage Mind,

For Love abhors the Sight:
Loose the fierce Tyger from the Deer,
For native Rage and native Fear
Rise and forbid Delight.

9.
Two kindest Souls alone nust meet,
Its Friendship makes the Bondage lweet

And feeds their mutual Loves : Bright Venus on her rolling Throne Is drawn by gentlest Birds alone,

And Cupids yoke the Doves.

CXII.

The Indian Philosopher:

By the same Author.

I.

WHY should our Joys transform to Pain?

Why gentle Hymen's fisken Chain

A plague of Iron prove? Bendil)), 'tis strange the Charnt that binds Millions of Hands, should leave their Minds

At such a loose from Love.

2.

In vain I songht the wondrous Cause, Ranged the wide Fields of Nature's Laws,

And urg'd the Schools in vain; Then deep in Thought, within my Breast My Soul retir'd, and Number dress'd A bright Instructive Scene.

3. O'er the broad Lands, and cross the Tide On Fancy's airy Horse I ride,

(Sweet Rapture of the Mind)
Till on the Banks of Gange's Flood
In a tall ancient Grove I stood
For Sacred Use design'd.

4:
Hard by a Venerable Priest
Ris'n with his God the Sun from Reit

Awoke his Morning-Song; Thrice he conjur’d the murm’ring Stream) The Birth of Souls was all his Thenie, And Half-Divine his Tongue.

5. He sung th' eternal rolling Flanie, That Vital Mass, that still the fanie

Does all our Minds compose : But shap'd in twice ten thousand Frames, Thence diff'ring Souls of differing Names, And jarring Tempers rose.

6. The mighty Power that form'd the Mind One Mould for every Tmo design'd,

And bless'd the New-born Pair : This be a Match for this: He faid, Then down he sent the Souls he made

To seek them Bodies here.

7.
But parting from their warm Abode,
They lost their Fellows on the Road,

And never joyn'd their Hands:
Ah cruel Chance, and crossing Fates !
Our Extern Souls have dropt their Mates
On Europe's barbarous Lands.

8.
Happy the Youth that finds the Bride
Whose Birth is to his own ally'd,

The sweetest Joy of Life :
But oh the Crouds of wretched Souls,
Fetter'd to Minds of different Moulds,
And chain'd to Eternal Strife!

9.
Thus sang the wondrous Indian Bard;
My Soul with vast Attention heard,

While Ganges ceas'd to flow :
Sure then (I cry'd) might I but fee
That gentle Nymph that twinn'd with me,

I may be happy too.

10.

Sonie courteous Angel, tell me where,
What distant Lands this unknown Fair

Or distant Seas detain ?
Swift as the Wheel of Nature rolls
ld fly to meet and mingle Souls,

And wear the joyful Chain.

CXIII. Tk CXIII.

The Four Seasons of the Year.

SPRING. PErceiv'ft thou not the process of the Year,

How the Four Seafons in four Forms appear, , Resembling human Life in every Shape they wear. Spring first, like Infancy, Shoots out her Head, With milky Juice requiring to be fed : Helpless, tho' fresh, and wanting to be led. The green Stem grows in Stature and in Size, But only feeds with Hope the Farmer's Eyes; Then laughs the childish

year with Flourets crown'd, And lavilhly perfumes thé Fields around, But no substantial Nourishment receives, Infirm the Stalks, unfolid are the Leaves.

CXIV.

SUMMER

PRoceeding onward whence the year began,

The Summer grows adult, ripens into Man.
This Season, as in Men, is most repleat
With kindly Moisture, and prolifick Heat.

CXV.
Autumn, or Fall of the Leaf.
A
Utumn fucceeds, a sober tepid Age,
Not froze with Fear, nor boyling into Rage ;

P

Mor

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