'TWAS when the night in filent fable fled,

When chearful morning fprung with rifing red, When dreams and vapours leave to croud the brain, And beft the vifion draws its heavenly scene; Twas then, as flumb'ring on my couch I lay, A fudden splendor feem'd to kindle day, A breeze c me breathing in a sweet perfume, Blown from eternal gardens, fill'd the room; And in a void of blue, that clouds invest, Appear'd a daughter of the realms of reft; Her head a ring of golden glory wore, Her honour'd hand the facred volume bore, Her raiment glitt'ring feem'd a filver white, And all her sweet companions fons of light.

Straight as I gaz'd, my fear and wonder grew, Fear barr'd my voice, and wonder fix'd my view; When lo! a cherub of the shining croud 'That fail'd as guardian in her azure cloud, Fan'd the foft air, and downwards seem to glide, And to my lips a living coal apply'd. Then while the warmth o'er all my pulfes ran Diffufing comfort, thus the maid began.

Where glorious manfions are prepar'd above, The feats of mufic, and the feats of love, Thence I defcend, and PIETY my name, To warm thy bofom with celestial flame, To teach thee praifes mix'd with humble pray'rs, And tune thy foul to fing feraphic airs. Be thou my Bard.' A vial here the caught, An Angel's hand the crystal vial brought, And as with awful found the word was faid, She pour'd a facred unction on my head ; Then thus proceeded: Be thy muse thy zeal, ་ Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal. While other pencils flatt'ring forms create, And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the Great; While other pens exalt the vain delight, Whofe wafteful revel wakes the depth of night; Or others foftly fing in idle lines

How Damon courts, or Amaryllis fhines; More wifely thou felect a thene divine, Fame is their recompence, 'tis heav'n is thine. Defpife the raptures of difcorded fire, Where wine, or paffion, or applaufe infpire Low reftlefs life, and ravings born of earth, ⚫ Whofe meaner subjects speak their humble birth,

breathe,

And ever mounting whence it shot beneath.
Unpaint the love, that hov'ring over beds,
"From glitt'ring pinions guilty pleasure sheds;
Reftore the colour to the golden mines

With which behind the feather'd idol fhines ;
To flow'ring greens give back their native care,
The rofe and lily, never his to wear;
Tofweet Arabia fend the balmy breath;
Strip the fair flesh, and call the phantom, Death;
"His bow he fabled o'er, his fhafts the fame,
And fork and point them with eternal flame.

But urge thy pow'rs, thine utmost voice advance, Make the loud ftrings against thy fingers dance: ''Tis love that Angels praife and men adore, ''Tis love divine that asks it all and more.

Fling back the gates of ever-blazing day, Pour floods of liquid light to gild the way; And all in glory wrapt, thro' paths untrod 'Purfue the great unfeen descent of God. "Hail the meek virgin, bid the child appear, The child is GOD, and call him JESUS here. He comes, but where to reft? A manger's nigh, Make the great Being in a manger lie;

Fill the wide fky with Angels on the wing, "Make thousands gaze, and make ten thousand fing; "Let men afflict him, men he came to fave, And still afflict him till he reach the grave; Make him refign'd, his loads of forrow meet, And me, like Mary, weep beneath his feet; I'll bathe my treffes there, my pray'rs rehearse, And glide in flames of love along thy verfe.

Ah! while 1 fpeak, I feel my bofom fwell, 'My raptures fmother what I long to tell. 'Tis GOD! a prefent God! Thro' cleaving air' I fee the throne, and fee the JESUS there Plac'd on the right. He thews the wounds he bore, My fervours oft have won him thus before, 'How pleas'd he looks! my words have reach'd his ear ;

"He bids the gates unbar, and calls me near."

She ceas'd. The cloud on which the seem`d to tread, It's curls unfolded, and around her spread; Bright Angels waft their wings to raise the cloud, And fweep their ivory lutes, and fing aloud; The scene moves off while all its ambient sky Is turn'd to wond'rous mufic as they fly; And foft the fwelling founds of mafic grow, And faint their foftnefs, till they fail below.

My downy fleep the warmth of Phoebus broke, And while my thoughts were fettling, thus I fpoke. Thou beauteous Vifion! on my foul imprefs'd, When most my reafon would appear to reft, 'Twas fure with pencils dipt in various lights Some curious Angel limn'd thy facred fights; From blazing funs his radiant gold he drew, White moons the filver gave, and air the blue. I'll mount the roving winds expanded wing, And feck the facred hill, and light to fing; 'Tis known in Jewry well, I'll make my lays Obedient to thy fummons, found with praise.

But ftill I fear, unwarm'd with holy flame,
I take for truth the flatt'ries of a dream;
And barely with the wond'rous gift 1 boast,
And faintly practise what deferves it most.

Indulgent LORD! whofe gracious love difplays
Joy in the light, and fills the dark with ease!
be this, to bless my days, no dream of blifs;
Or be, to blefs the nights, my dreams like this.

BACCHU S.

AS Bacchus ranging at his leifure,

Jolly Bacchus, king of pleasure!
Charm'd the wide world with drink and dances,
And all his thousand airy fancies,
Alas! he quite forgot the while
His fav'rite vines in Lefbos ifle.

The God, returning ere they dy'd,
Ah fee my jolly Fauns he cry'd,
The leaves but hardly born are red,
And the bare arms for pity fpread:
The beafts afford a rich manure;
Fly, my boys, to bring the cure;
Up the mountains, o'er the vales,
Thro' the woods, and down the dales ;
For this, if full the clufter grow,
Your bowls fhall doubly overflow.

So cheer'd with more officious hafte
They bring the dung of ev'ry beast;
The loads they wheel, the roots they bare,
They lay the rich manure with care;
While oft he calls to labour hard,
And names as oft the red reward.

The plants refresh'd, new leaves appear,
The thick'ning clufters load the year;
The feason swiftly purple grew,
The grapes hung dangling deep with blue.
A vineyard ripe, a day ferene
Now calls them all to work again.
The Fauns thro' every furrow shoot
To load their flaskets with the fruit ;
And now the vintage early trod,
The wines invite the jovial God.

Strew the roles, raise the song,
See the mafter comes along;
Lufty Revel join'd with Laughter,
Whim and Frolic follow after :
The Fauns afide the vats remin
Tofhow the work, and reap the gain,

All around, and all around
They fit to riot on the ground;
A veffel ftands amidst the ring,
And here they laugh, and there they fing;
Or rife a jolly jolly band,

And dance about it hand in hand;
Dance about, and shout amain,
Then fit to laugh and fing again.
Thus they drink, and thus they play
The fun, and all their wits away.

But as an ancient Author fung,
The vine manur'd with ev'ry dung,
From ev'ry creature ftrangely drew
A twang of brutal nature too;
'Twas hence in drinking on the lawns
New turns of humour feiz'd the Fauns.
Here one was crying out, by Jove!
Another, fight me in the grove;
This wounds a friend, and that the trees;
The lion's temper reign'd in these.

Another grins, and leaps about,
And keeps a merry world of rout,
And talks impertinently free,
And twenty talk the fame as he:
Chatt'ring, idle, airy, kind:

Thefe take the monkeys turn of mind.

Here one, that faw the Nymphs which stoo
To peep upon them from the wood,
Steals off to try if any maid

Be lagging late beneath the frade:
While loofe difcourfe another raises
In naked nature's plainest phrases,
And every glass he drinks enjoys,
With change of nonsense, luft and noise
Mad and careless, hot and vain:
Such as thefe the goat retain.

Another drinks and cafts it up,
And drinks, and wants another cup;
Solemn, filent, and fedate,
Ever long, and ever late,

Full of meats, and full of wine:
This takes his temper from the swine.

Here fome who hardly feem to breath.
Drink, and hang the jaw beneath.
Gaping, tender, apt to weep:
Their natures alter'd by the theep.

'Twas thus one autumn all the crew,
If what the Poets fay be true,
While Bacchus made the merry feaft,
Inclin'd to one, or other beaft:
And fince, 'tis faid, for many a mile
He spread the vines of Lesbos ifle.

pre

Ode on the prefent corruption of mankind. Inscribed to the Lord Falkland,

Fortune. Epigram.

Character of Mr. Wycherley,

Verses written in a leat of the author's poems, fented to the queen. The Mufe's last dying fong, ibid Written in a leaf of the fame poems, prefented to the Princefs Royal, ibid Written on a window in the Tower, where Sir Robert Walpole had been confined, ibid Peleus and Thetis A Mafque. Set to mufic, 31 The British Enchanters: or, No Magic like Love. A dramatic poem. With fcenes, machines, mufic, and decorations,

Epilogue. By Jofeph Addifon, Efq.

YALDEN'S POEMS.

35-59

59

On a Lady's Picture: To Gilfred Lawfon, Efq. ibid Part of the Fourth Book of Lucan translated, 100 To the Earl of Warwick, on the death of Mr. Addifon,

Colin and Lucy, a Baltad,

107

To Sir Godfrey Kneller at his country feat, it'd On the death of the Earl of Cadogan, 109

ibid

An Ode infcribed to the Earl of Sunderland at Windfor,

ihid

63

Against Enjoyment,

64

To a Lady before Marriage,

114

The Curfe of Babylon. Ifaiah, Chapter xiii. raphrafed

pa

On the horn-book,

115

ibid

Therfites

116

Oxford: a Poem. Infcrib'd to Lord Lonsdale, ibid

66

The Infect; against Bulk,

67

HAMMOND'S POEMS.

To Mr. Congreve. An Epiftolary Ode, 1693. Occafioned by the Old Bachelor

ibid

To his Friend Captain Chamberlain, in Love with a
Lady he had taken in an Algerine Prize at Sea.
In allufion to Horace, Ode ii. 4.
To Mr. Watson, on his Ephemeris of the celestial
Motions, prefented to her Majesty,
The Rape of Theutilla. Imitated from the Latin
of Famianus Strada,

ibid

68

Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, 1693.

69

The force of Jealoufy. To a Lady asking if her Sex was as fenfible of that Paffion as Man, ibid To his perjured Mistress,

71