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Let Health, gay daughter of the skies,
On Zephyr's wings descend,
And fcatter pleasures as the flies

Where Surry's down's extend;
There HERRING Wooes her friendly power,
There may she all her roses shower,

To heal that fhepherd all her balms employ,
So will she footh our fears, and give a nation joy.

Ah me! that Virtue's godlike friends
So foon are claim'd by Fate!

Lo! * PELHAM to the grave defcends,

The bulwark of the ftate:

When will fair Truth his equal find
Among the best of human kind?

Long be the fatal day with mourning kept!
AUGUSTUS figh'd fincere, and all the worthy wept.


Thy delegate, kind heaven, restore

To health, and safely keep;

Let good AUGUSTUS figh no more,
No more the worthy weep:

The Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Efq; died on the 6th of March 1754

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And ftill upon the royal head

The riches of thy bleffings fhed:

Establish'd with his counsellors around,

Long be his profp'rous reign, and all with glory crown'd.



By the Same.


ET once more, glorious God of day,
While beams thine orb ferene,


O let me warbling court thy ftay

To gild the fading scene!

Thy rays invigorate the Spring,

Bright Summer to perfection bring,

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The cold, inclement days of Winter cheer,

And make th' Autumnal months the mildeft of the year.

Ere yet the ruffet foliage fall,

I'll climb the mountain's brow,

My friend, my Hayman, at thy call,

To view the scene below:

How sweetly pleafing to behold
Forests of vegetable gold!


How mix'd the many-chequer'd shades between The tawny mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green! III.

How fplendid all the fky! how ftill!
How mild the dying gale!
How soft the whispers of the rill

That winds along the dale!

So tranquil Nature's works appear,
It feems the Sabbath of the year;

As if, the Summer's Labour past, she chofe
This feafon's fober calm for blandishing repofe.

Such is of well-fpent life the time,
When bufy days are past,

Man verging gradual from his prime,
Meets facred Peace at laft:

His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er,

And Summer's full-blown pride no more,

He gains pacific Autumn, meek and bland, And dauntless braves the stroke of Winter's palfy'd hand.


For yet awhile, a little while,

Involv'd in wint❜ry gloom,
And lo! another Spring fhall fmile,
A Spring eternal bloom;


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Then shall he shine, a glorious gueft,
In the bright mansions of the blest,
Where due rewards on Virtue are bestow'd,

And reap the golden fruits of what his Autumn fow'd.






WAY, let nought to love displeasing,
My Winifreda, move thy fear,
Let nought delay the heav'nly bleffing,
Nor fqueamish pride, nor gloomy care.
What though no grants of royal donors

With pompous titles grace our blood,
We'll fhine in more substantial honours,
And to be noble we'll be good.

What though from Fortune's lavish bounty
No mighty treafures we poffefs,
We'll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.


IV. Still


Still fhall each kind returning seafon
Sufficient for our wishes give,
For we will live a life of reason,
And that's the only life to live.
Our name, whilft virtue thus we tender,

Shall fweetly found where'er 'tis fpoke,
And all the great ones much shall wonder,
How they admire fuch little folk.

Through youth and age in love excelling,
We'll hand in hand together tread,
Sweet smiling Peace fhall crown our dwelling,
And babes, fweet fimiling babes, our bed.
How fhould I love the pretty creatures,
Whilft round my knees they fondly clung,
To fee 'em look their mother's features,
To hear 'em lifp their mother's tongue!
And when with envy Time transported
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I go wooing in my boys.


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