At the near approach of day,
Sudden the mufick dies away,
Wafting in the fea of air,
And the phantoms disappear,
All (as the glow-worm waxes dim)
Vanish like a morning dream,

And of their revels leave no trace,
Save the ring upon the grass.
When the elphin show is fled,
Home I hafte me to my bed;
There, if thou with magick wand
On my temples take thy ftand,
I fee in mix'd diforder rife

All that ftruck my waking eyes:
So when I ftand, and round me gaze,
Where the fam'd Lodona strays;

On the woods and thickets brown,

That its fedgy margin crown,

And watch the vagrant clouds that fly

'Thro' the vaft defart of the sky, When adown I caft my look

On the smooth unruffled brook,

(While its current clear doth run,
And holds its mirrour to the fun,)
There I fee th' inverted scene
Fall, and meet the eye again.

The

****

The MONKIES, a TALE.

By the Same.

W

HOE'ER with curious eye has
Thro' Ovid's tales, has feen

How Jove, incens'd, to monkies chang'd

A tribe of worthless men.

Repentant foon th' offending race
Intreat the injur'd pow'r,

To give them back the human face,

And reafon's aid restore.

Jove, footh'd at length, his ear inclin'd,
And granted half their pray'r;
But t'other half he bade the wind
Difperfe in empty air.

Scarce had the thund'rer giv'n the nad
That fhook the vaulted fkies,

With haughtier air the creatures ftrode,

And stretch'd their dwindled fize.

rang'd

The

The hair in curls luxuriant now
Around their temples spread;
The tail that whilom hung below,
Now dangled from the head.

The head remains unchang'd within,
Nor alter'd much the face;

It ftill retains its native grin,
And all its old grimace.

Thus half transform'd and half the fame,
Jove bade them take their place,
(Reftoring them their ancient claim)
Among the human race.

Man with contempt the brute furvey'd,
Nor would a name bestow;

But woman lik'd the motley breed,
And call'd the thing a Beau.

An

EPITA PH.

UÆ te fub tenerâ rapuerunt, Pæta, juventâ, O utinam me crudelia fata vocent; Ut linquam terras invifaque lumina folis, Utque tuus rurfum corpore fim pofito.

Tu

Tu cave Læthæo contingas ora liquore,
Et citò venturi fis memor, oro, viri
Te fequar obfcurum per iter: dux ibit eunti
Fidus amor, tenebras lampade difcutiens.

Thus TRANSLATED.

By the Same.

HEE, Pæta, death's relentless hand

TH

Cut off in earliest bloom

Oh! had the fates for me ordain'd
To fhare an equal doom;

With joy this bufy world I'd leave,
This hated light refign,

To lay me in the peaceful grave,
And be for ever thine:

Do thou, if Lethe court thy lip,
To tafte its ftream forbear:
Still in thy foul his image keep,
Who haftes to meet thee there.

Safe o'er the dark and dreary shore
In queft of thee I'll roam,

Love with his lamp fhall run before,

And break the circling gloom.

VERSES fent to Dean SWIFT on his Birth-day, with PINE'S HORACE finely bound.

Written by Dr. J. SICAN.

[HORACE fpeaking.]

YOU'VE read, Sir, in poetic strain,

How Varus and the Mantuan fwain

Have on my birth-day been invited
(But I was forc'd in verfe to write it)
Upon a plain repaft to dine,

And taste my old Campanian wine;
But I, who all punctilio's hate,
Tho' long familiar with the great,
Nor glory in my reputation,
Am come without an invitation,
And tho' I'm us'd to right Falernjan,
I'll deign for once to taste Iernian ;
But fearing that you might difpute
(Had I put on a common fuit,)
My breeding and my politeffe,
I vifit in a birth-day drefs;