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While chosen beauties lengthen out the fung, To deck a notion faintly seen before,
And truth preserves her shape, and Anines the
By these the beauteous fimilies refide, She biss their facts in images arile,
In look more open, in design ally'd, And seems to pais before the reader's eyes,
Who, fond of likeness, from another's face The words like charms enchanted motion give, Bring ev'ry feature's corresponding grace, And all the statues of the palace live.
With netr approaches in expression flow, Then hoits embattled Aretch the lines afar, And take the turn their pattern loves to show ; Three leaders speeches animate che war,
As in a glass the leadows meet the fair, The trumpets sound, the feather'd arrows fly, And diefs and practise with resembling air: The sword is drawn, the lance is toti'd on Thus truth by pleasure does her ain pursue, high,
Looks bright, a fixes on the doubled view.
Three repetitions one another meet,
And urge the fort of sentiment they raise.
There close in order are the questions plac'd, And nymphsin measures trip along the ground, Which march with art conceal'd in shows of And e'er the dews have wet the grass below,
hafte, Turn homewards finging all the way they go. And work the reader till his mind be brought
Here, as on circumftance narrations dwell, To make its answers in the writer's thought. And tell what moves, and hardly seem to tell, For thus the moving passions seem to throng, The toils of heroes on the dusty plains,
And with their quickness force the foul along ;. Or on the green the merriment of twains,
And thus the foul grows fond they fou'd prevail, Reflection speaks, then all the forms that rose When ev'ry questions seems a fair appeal ; In life's enchanted scenes themselves compose; And if by just degrees of itrength they foar, Whilft the grave voice, controuling all the spells In steps as equal each affects the more. With folemn utt'rance, thus the moral tells :
There strange commotion naturally thewn, So public worth its enemies destroys,
Speaks on regardless that we speak alone, Or private innocence itself enjoys.
Nor minds if chey to whom the talks be pear, Here all the passione, for their greater (way, Nor cares if that to which the talks can hear. In all the posi'r of words themselves array ; The warmth of anger dares an absent foe; And hence the soft pathetick gently charms, The words of pity speak to tears of woe ; And hence the bolder fills the breast with arms.
The love that hopes, on errands sends the Sweet love in numbers finds a world of darts,
breeze ; And with defirings wounds the tender hearts,
And love despairing moans to naked trees. Fair hope displays its pinions to the wind,
There stand the new creations of the musc, And flutters in the lines, and lifts the mind. Poetie persons, whom the writers use, Brisk joy with transport fills the riling strain, When'er a cause magnificently great, Breaks in the notes, and bounds in ev'ry vein. Wou'd fix attention with peculiar weight. Stern courage, glitt'ring in the Iparks of ire, 'Tis hence that humbled provinces are seen Enflames those lays that let the breast on fire, Transform’d to matrons with neglected mien, Averfion learns to fly with swifter will,
Who call their warriors in a mournful found, In numbers taught to represent an ill.
And shew their crowns of turrets on the by frightful accents tear produces fears,
ground, by fad expression forrow melts to tears,
While over urns reclining rivers moan And dire amazement and despair are brought, They shou'd enrich a nation not their own. By words of horror, through the wilds of 'Tis hence the virtues are no more confin'd thought.
To be but rules of reason in the mind; "Tis thus tumultuous paflions learn to roll ; Their heav'nly forms start forth, appear to Thus arm'd with poetry they win the soul.
breathe, Pass further through the dome, another view And in bright shapes converse wirh men beWou'd now the pleatures of thy mind renew,
neath, Where oft, defcription for the colours goes,
And, as a God, in combat valour leads, Which raise and animate its native thows;
In council prudence as a goddess aids.
There exclamations all the voice employ
Then seem the lluices which the passions bound, When rorals aim at dress to please the mind; To burit asunder with a speechless found ; Where lively figures are for ule array'd,
And then with tumult and surprise they roll, And these an action, those a passion, aid.
And shew the case important in the soul. There mode: metaphors in order lit,
There riling sentences attempt to speak, With unatiected undilguising wit,
Which wonder, forrow, shame, or arger break; 'That leave their own, and feek another's place, But so the part directs to find the reft, Not forc't, but changing with an easy pace, That what remains behind is more than guess de
This filled with ease, yet left unfinih'd too, She spoke : The patriot overspread thy mind,
Else might thy foul so wonderfully wrought
To this the poet's sweet recess retreat,
Describe the raptures which a writer knows,
Describe his temper when he sees it shine, Live, wond'rous palace, live secure of time Or say when readers easy verse ensnares, To renses harmony, to fouls sublime,
How much the writer's mind can act on theirs And just proportion all, and great design,
Whence images in charming numbers fet, And lively colours, and an air divine,
A fort of likeness in the soul beget, 'Tis here, that guided by the muses fire,
And what fair visious oft we fancy nigh And fill'd with sacred thought, her friends retire, By fond delufions of the swimming eye, Unbent to care, and unconcern’d with noise, Or further pierce through nature's maze to find To taste repose and clevated joys,
How passions drawn give passions to the mind. Which in a deep untroubled leisure meet,
Oh what a sweet contulion! what surprise! Serenely ravithing, politely fweet.
How quick the shifting views of pleasure rise ! From hence the charms that most engage they while lightly skimming, with a tranfient wing, choole,
I touch the beauties which I wish to sing. And as they please the glitt'ring objects use; Is verse a fov’reign regent of the soul, While to their genius more than art they trust, And fitted all its motions to controul ? Yet art acknowledges their labours jutt.
Or are they fifters, tun'd at once above, From hence they look, from this exalted how, And shake like unisons if either move ? To choose their subject in the world below,
For when the numbers fing an eager fight, And where an hero well deserves a name,
I've heard a Boldier's voice express delight; They consecrate his acts in fong to fame ;
I've seen hie eyes with crouding spirits Thine, Or if a science unadorn'd they find,
And round his hilt his hand unthinking twine. They smooth its look to please and teach the mind;! When from the shore the fickle Trojan fies, And where a friendship’s generously ítrong,
And in sweet measures poor Eliza dies, 'They celebrate the knot of souls in long;
I've seen the book forsake the virgin's hand,
And in her eyes the tears but hardly ítand.
Or with success had more adorn d his arms
Who gave the world for Cleopatra's charms. And then alone they cast their eyes above.
Ye Tons of glory, by my first appeal,
God court your rage, and envy my delight: And seen his courage and his honour go
Shines all impregnated with spukling seeds,
And courage here, and honour there, appears, Enough my vertes have you work'd my brcast, In brave design, that foars beyond his years, l'll seek the sacred grove, and fink to ieft.
And this a fper, and that a chariot lends, “ No longer now the ravish'd poet fung,
And war and triumph he by turns attends : “ His voice in easy cadence left the tongue; Thus gallant pleasures are his waking dream, " Nor o'er the mufick did his fingers fly,
Till fome fair cjufe hath call d him torth to fame, “ The sounds ran tingling and they seem'd to die.” Then forni'd to life on what the poet made,
OBOLINGEROKE! O favorire of the skies, And breathing Naughter, and in arms array'd, O born to gifts by which the noblest rise!
He marches forward on the daring tue, Improv'd in arts by which the brightest please, And emulation acts in ev'ry blow. Intent to business, and polite for ease;
Great fiector's hade in tancy talks along, Sublime in eloquence, where loud applause
From rank to rank amongst the martial throng, Hath ftil'd thee patron of a nation's case.
While from his acis ne lcarns a noble rage, Twas there the world perceiv'd and own’d thee And (hines like Hector in the present age. great,
Thus verfe will raite him to the victor's bays,
If song cancharm, and if my song be true.
And then she longs to meet a gentle swain, · Like working seas, that when loud winters his. And longs to love, and to be lov'd again.
'Not made for rising, only rage belor. And if by chance an am'rous youth appears, • Mine is a warm and yet a lambent hext, With pants and blushes the the courtship hears; • More lafting ftill, as more intensely great, And finds a tale that must with theirs agree, • Produc'd where pray'r, and praise, and pleks And he's Septimius, and his Acme she:
breathe, Thus lost in thought her melted heart the gives, And ever mounting whence it shot beneath. And the rais'd lover by the poet lives.
• Unpaint the love, that bov'ring over beds,
With which behind the feather'd idol fines;
" To Aow'ring greens give back their native care, Ρ Ι Ε Τ Υ
" The rose and lily, never his to wear;
And fork and point them with eternal fame.
• Make the loud strings againit thy fingen dre:
• 'Tis love that Angels praise and men adare, 'TWAS when the night in filent sable fled, ( 'Tis love divine that alks it all
and more. When chearful inorning sprung with rising red, Fling back the gates of ever-blazing day, When dreams and vapours leave to croud the brain, · Pour foods of liquid light to gild the way; And best the vision draws its heavenly scene; ' And all in glory wrapt, thro'paths ontrod Twas then, as slumb’ring on my couch I lay, ' Pursue the great unseen descent of God. A sudden splendor feemd to kindle day,
• Hail the meek virgin, bid the child appears A breeze c me breathing in a sweet perfume, " The child is God, and call him Jesus be Blown from eternal gardens, fillid the room; • He comes, but where to reft? A mangeries And in a voia of blue, that clouds inveft,
"Make the great Leing in a manger lie; Appear'd a daughter of the realms of rest; " Fill the wide sky with Angels on the wing, Her head a ring of golden glory wore,
• Make thousands gaze, and make ten thousand ting Her honour'd hand the facred volume bore,
• Let men afflict him, men he came to save, Her raiment glite’ring seem'd a silver white,
6 And fill afflict him till be reach the grave; And all her sweet companions sons of light. * Make him resignd, his loads of forrow meet,
Straight as I gaz'd, my fear and wonder grew, • And me, like Mary, weep beneath bis feet ; Fear barr'd my voice, and wonder fix'd my view; • I'll bathe my tresses there, my pray’rs rehearse
, When lo! a cherub of the shining croud
• And glide in Aames of love along thy verse. That rail'd as guardian in her azure cloud,
"Ah! while I speak, I feel my busom luel, Fand the soft air, and downwards seem to glide, • My raptures (mother what I long to tell. And to my lips a living coal apply'd.
" 'Tis God! a present God! Thro' cleaving 3 Then while the warmth o'er all my pulses ran I see the throne, and see the Jesus there Diffusing comfort, thus the maid began.
• Plac'd on the right. He thews the wounds he berea • Where glorious mansions are prepar'd above, My fervours oft have won him thus before, « The seats of music, and the feats of love,
How pleas'd he looks! my words have reachd bis " I hence I descent, and Piety my name,
ear; • To warm thy borom with celeitial flame,
"He bids the gates unbar, and calls me pear.' - To teach thee praises mix'd with humble pray’rs, She ceas'd. The cloud on which the feemid to bed, " And tune thy soul to sing Teraphic airs.
It's curls unfolded, and around her spread; Be thou my Bard.' A vial here the caught, Bright Angels waft their wings to raise the cloud, An Angel's hand the crystal vial brought,
And sweep their ivory lutes, and Ging aloud; And as with awful found the word was said,
The scene moves off while all its ambient iky She pour'd a sacred undtion on my head ;
Is turn’d to wond'rous music as they fly; Then thus proceeded : ' Be thy muse thy zeal, And soft the swelling sounds of music grow, «Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal.
And faint their softness, till they fail below. ( While other pencils Aatt'ring forms create,
My downy Deep the warmth of Phæbus broke, And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the Great; And while my thoughts were settling, thus I spekt. • While other pens exalt the vain delight, Thou beauteous Vision ! on my soul impress d, • Whose wasteful revel wakes the depth of night; When most my reason would appear to reit, Or others softly fing in idle lines
'Twas sure with pencils dipt in various lights • How Damon courts, or Amaryllis shines ; Some curious Angel limn'd thy sacred lights ; • More wisely thou select a thecne divine,
From blazing suns his radiant gold he drew, • Fame is their recompence, 'tis beav'n is thine. White moons the silver gave, and air the blues • Despise the raptures of discorded fire,
I'll mount the roving winds expanded wing, Where wine, or passion, or applause inspire And seek the sacred hill, and light to fing; * Low restless life, and ravings born of earth, 'Tis known in Jewry well, I'll make my lays · Whose meaner subjects speak thcis humble birth, Obedient to thy summons, found with praise
But ftill I fear, unwarm’d with holy flame, I take for truth the fact'ries of a dream; And barely with the wond'rous gift I boast, And faintly practise what deserves it most.
Indulgent Lord! whole gracious love displays Joy in the light, and fills the dark with ease! be this, to bless my days, no dream of bliss ; Or be, to bless the nights, my dreams like this.
B A C CH US.
AS Bacchus ranging at his leisure,
Jolly Bacchus, king of pleasure !
The God, returning ere they dy'd,
So cheer'd with more officious hafte
The plants refresh'd, new leaves appeary.
A vineyard ripe, a day serene
Strew, the roses, raise the song,
All around, and all around
But as an ancient Author fung,
Here one was crying out, by Jove!
Another grins, and leaps about,
Here one, that saw the Nymphs which ftoon.,
Another drinks and casts it up,
'Here some who hardly seem to breatl.
'Twas thus one autumn all the crew,
END OF THE FIFTH VOLUNE.