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Give them, as much as mortal eyes can bear,
A transient view of thy full glories there;
That they with moderate sorrow

may

sustain
And mollify their loffes in thy gain.
Or else divide the grief; for such thou wert,
That should not all relations bear a part,
It were enough to break a single heart.

Let this suffice: nor thou, great faint, refuse
This humble tribute of no vulgar Muse:
Who, not by cares, or wants, or age deprest,
Stems a wild deluge with a dauntless breast;
And dares to sing thy praises in a clime
Where vice triumphs, and virtue is a crime;
Where ev'n to draw the picture of thy mind,
Is fatire on the most of human kind :
Take it, while yet 'tis praise; before my rage,
Unsafely juft, break loose on this bad age;
So bad, that thou thyself hadít no defence
From vice, but barely by departing hence.

Be what and where thou art: to wish thy place,
Were, in the best, presumption more than grace.
Thy relicks (such thy works of mercy are)
Have, in this poem, been my holy care.
As earth thy body keeps, thy soul the sky,
So shall this verse preserve thy memory;
For thou shalt make it live, because it sings of thee.

ON

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'TWA

WAS on a joyless and a gloomy morn,
Wet was the grass, and hung with pearls the

thorn;
When Damon, who design'd to pass the day
With hounds and horns, and chace the flying prey,
Rofe early from his bed; but foon he found
The welkin pitch'd with fullen clouds around,
An eastern wind, and dew upon the ground.
Thus while he stood, and fighing did survey
The fields, and curft th’ill omens of the day,
He saw Menalcas come with heavy pace;
Wet were his eyes, and chearless was his face:
He wrung his hands, distracted with his care,
And sent his voice before him from afar.
Return, he cry'd, return, unhappy swain,
The spungy clouds are fill’d with gathering rain:
The promise of the day not only cross’d,
But ev’n the spring, the spring itself, is loft.
Amyntas—oh!—he could not speak the reít,
Nor needed, for presaging Damon guess’d.
Equal with heaven young Damon lov’d the boy,
The boast of nature, buth his parents' joy.
His graceful form revolving in his mind;
So great a genius, and a foul so kind,
Gave fad assurance that his fears were true;
Too well the envy of the gods he knew :

For

For when their gifts too lavishly are plac'd,
Soon they repent, and will not make them last.
For sure it was too bountiful a dole,
The mother's features, and the father's soul.
Then thus he cry'd: the morn bespoke the news:
The morning did her chearful light diffuse:
But see how suddenly she chang'd her face,
And brought on clouds and rain, the day's disgrace;
Just fuch, Amyntas, was thy promis'd race.
What charms adorn'd thy youth, where nature smild,
And more than man was given us in a child!
His infancy was ripe: a foul sublime
years

so tender that prevented time:
Heaven gave him all at once; then snatch'd away,
Ere mortals all his beauties could survey:
Just like the flower that buds and withers in a day.

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In

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MEN AL CAS.

The mother, lovely, though with grief opprest, Reclin'd his dying head upon her breast, The mournful family stood all around; One groan was heard, one universal found: All were in floods of tears and endless sorrow drown'd.. So dire a sadness sat on every look, Ev'n death repented he had given the stroke. He griev'd his fatal work had been ordain’d, But promis'd length of life to those who yet remain do The mother's and her eldest daughter's grace, It seems, had brib’d him to prolong their space. The father bore it with undaunted soul, Like one who durft his destiny controul :

Yet

Yet with becoming grief he bore his part,
Resign’d his son, but not resign’d his heart.
Patient as Job; and may he live to see,
Like him, a new increasing family!

DA MO N.

Such is my wish, and such my prophesy.
For yet, my friend, the beauteous mould remains;
Long may she exercise her fruitful pains!
But, ah! with better hap, and bring a race
More lasting, and endued with equal grace!
Equal she may, but farther none can go:
For he was all that was exact below.

MEN AL CAS.
Damon, behold yon breaking purple cloud ;
Hear'st thou not hymns and songs divinely loud?
There mounts Amyntas; the young cherubs play
About their godlike mate, and sing him on

his

way He cleaves the liquid air, behold he flies, And every moment gains upon the skies. The new-come guest admires th’ ætherial state, The fapphire portal, and the golden gate; And now admitted in the shining throng, He shows the passport which he brought along His passport is his innocence and grace, Well known to all the natives of the place. Now fing, ye joyful angels, and admire Your brother's voice that comes to mend your quire : Sing you, while endless tears our eyes bestow; For like Amyntas none is left below.

ON VI.

ON THE DEATH OF A VERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN.

HE who could view the book of destiny,

And read whatever there was writ of thee,
O charming youth, in the first opening page,
So
many graces

in fo

green an age,
Such wit, such modesty, such strength of mind,
A soul at once so manly, and fo.kind;
Would wonder, when he turn'd the volume o’er,
And after some few leaves should find no more,
Nought but a blank remain, a dead void space,
A step of life that promis'd such a race.
We must not, dare not think, that heaven began
A child, and could not finish him a man;
Reflecting what a mighty store was laid
Of rich materials, and a model made:
The coft already furnish’d; so bestow'd,
As more was never to one foul allow'd:
Yet, after this profufion spent in vain,
Nothing but mouldering ashes to remain,
I guess not, left I split upon the shelf,
Yet, durft I guess, heaven kept it for himself;
And giving us the use, did foon recal,
Ere we could spare, the mighty principal.

Thus then he disappear’d, was rarify'd;
For 'tis improper speech to say he dy'd:
He was exhal'd; his

great Creator drew His {pirit, as the sun the morning dew.

Tis

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