V. Now by swiftest Zephyrs drawn, Nor let one figh for his own fuff'rings rife; Venus from Eneas' fide With fuccessful efforts try'd To extract th' envenom'd dart, That baffled wife lapis' art, If thus, HYGEIA, thou couldft prove Now on thy favour'd HEBERDEN bestow Thy choiceft healing pow'rs, for Pallas asks them now. VII. What tho', banish'd from the fight, To the hero's troubled fight, Ranks on ranks tumultuous rofe Of flying friends and conqu'ring foes; He only panted to obtain A laurel wreath for thousands flain; On nobler views intent, the SAGE's mind Pants to delight, inftruct, and humanife mankind. *Author of Clarissa. A VERNAL Sent to his Grace the Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY, March 12, 1754. By FRANCIS FAWKE S, A. M. I. BRIGHT God of day, whofe genial power the buried feed, That spreads with foliage every bower, With verdure every mead, Bid all thy vernal breezes fly, Give the foft season to our drooping plains, II. Enough has Winter's hand fevere Hurl'd all his terrors round, Give but thy vital beams to play, The frozen scenes will melt away; And, mix in fprightly dance, the blooming Hours Will 'wake the drowsy Spring, and Spring awake the flowers. III. Let 1 Let Health, gay daughter of the skies, Where Surry's downs extend; There HERRING wooes her friendly power, To heal that fhepherd all her balms employ, Ah me! that Virtue's godlike friends The bulwark of the ftate: When will fair Truth his equal find Among the beft of human kind? Long be the fatal day with mourning kept! V. Thy delegate, kind heaven restore Let good AUGUSTUS figh no more, No more the worthy weep: And ftill upon the royal head The riches of thy bleffing fhed: Eftablish'd with his counsellors around, Long be his profp'rous reign, and all with glory crown'd. ** The Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Efq; died on the 6th of March 1754 An YE By the Same. I. ET once more, glorious God of day, O let me warbling court thy ftay To gild the fading scene! The cold, inclement days of Winter chear, 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 checker'd shades between The tawny mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green! III. How fplendid all the fky! how ftill ! How soft the whispers of the rill It feems the Sabbath of the year; Such is of well-fpent life the time, Man verging gradual from his prime, Meets facred Peace at last: His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er, He gains pacific Autumn, meek and bland, And dauntless braves the ftroke of Winter's palfy'd hand. V. For yet awhile, a little while, Involv'd in wint❜ry gloom, Then shall he shine, a glorious gueft, Where due rewards on Virtue are bestow'd, And reap the golden fruits of what his Autumn fow'd. A SONG. |