Loud is th' applaufe of every betting friend,
And peals of clamorous joy the concave rend.
But in each hoftile face, a difmal gloom
Appears, the fad prefage of lofs to come;
'Mong thefe, Trebellius with a mournful air
Of livid hue, juft dying with despair,
Shuffles about, fkrews his chop-fallen face,
And no whipp'd gigg so often shifts his place.
Then gives his fage advice with wondrous skill,
Which no man ever heeds, or ever will:
Yet he perfifts, inftructing to confound,
And with his cane points out the dubious ground.
Strong Nimrod now, fresh as the rising dawn
Appears, his finewy limbs, and folid brawn,
The gazing crowd admires. He nor in courts
Delights, nor pompous balls; but rural sports
Are his foul's joy. At the horn's brisk alarms
He shakes th' unwilling Phillis from his arms;
Mounts with the fun, begins his bold career,
To chase the wily fox, or rambling deer.
So Hercules, by Juno's dread command,
From favage beafts and monsters freed the land.
Hark! from the covert of yon gloomy brake,
Harmonious thunder rolls, the forests shake:
Men, boys, and dogs, impatient for the chace,
Tumultuous transports flush in every face;
With ears erect the courfer paws the ground,
Hills, vales, and hollow rocks, with chearing cries refound:
Drive down the precipice (brave youths) with speed,
Bound o'er the river banks, and smoke along the mead.
But whither would the devious Muse pursue
The pleafing theme, and my past joys renew?
Another labour now demands thy song,
Stretch'd in two ranks, behold th' expecting throng,
As Nimrod pois'd the sphere: his arm he drew
Back like an arrow in the Parthian yew,
Then launch'd the whirling globe, and full as swift it
Bowls dash'd on bowls confounded all the plain,
Safe ftood the foe, well-cover'd by his train.
Affaulted tyrants thus their guard defends,
Escaping by the ruin of their friends.
But now, he ftands expos'd, their order broke,
And feems to dread the next decifive ftroke.
So at fome bloody fiege, the ponderous ball
Batters with ceafelefs rage the crumbling wall,
(A breach once made) foon galls the naked town,
Riots in blood, and heaps on heaps are thrown.
Each avenue thus clear'd, with aching heart
Griper beheld, exerting all his art;
Once more refolves to check his furious foe,
Block up the passage, and elude the blow.
With cautious hand, and with lefs force, he threw
The well-pois'd fphere, that gently circling flew,
But stopping fhort, cover'd the mark from view.
So little Teucer on the well-fought field,
Securely fkulk'd behind his brother's fhield.
Nimrod, in dangers bold, whofe heart elate,
Nor courted fortune's fmiles, nor fear'd her hate;
Perplex'd, but not discourag'd, walk'd around,
With curious eye examin'd all the ground;
Not the leaft opening in the front was found.
Sideway he leans, declining to the right,
And marks his way, and moderates his might.
Smooth-gliding o'er the plain, th' obedient sphere
Held on its dubious road, while hope and fear
Alternate ebb'd and flow'd in every breast:
Now rolling nearer to the mark it prefs'd;
Then chang'd its course, by the strong biass rein’d,
And on the foe discharg❜d the force that yet remain’d.
Smart was the stroke, away the rival fled,
The bold intruder triumph'd in his stead.
Victorious Nimrod feiz'd the glittering prize,
Shouts of outrageous joy invade the skies;
Hands, tongues, and caps, exalt the victor's fame,
Sabrina's banks return him loud acclaim.
The LAMENTATION of DAVID over SAUL and JONATHAN.
PROSTRATE on earth the bleeding warrior lies,
And Ifrael's beauty on the mountains dies;
How are the mighty fallen!
Hufh'd be my forrows, gently fall my tears,
Left my fad tale should reach the aliens ears :
Bid Fame be dumb, and tremble to proclaim
In heathen Gath, or Afcalon, our fhame;
Left proud Philiftia, left our haughty foe,
With impious fcorn infult our folemn woe.
O Gilboa! ye hills afpiring high,
The last fad scene of Ifrael's tragedy:
No fattening dews be on thy lawns distill'd,
No kindly showers refresh the thirsty field;
No hallow'd fruits thy barren foil shall raise,
No spotlefs kids, that on our altars blaze;
Lonefome and wild fhall thy bleak fummits rife,
Accurs'd by men, and hateful to the skies.
On thee the shields of mighty warriors lay,
The fhield of Saul was vilely caft away;
The Lord's anointed Saul! his facred blood
Diftain'd thy brow, and fwell'd the common flood.
How are the mighty fallen!
Wheree'er their bands the royal heroes led,
The combat thicken'd, and the mighty bled;
The slaughter'd hosts beneath their falchions die,
And wing'd with death unerring arrows fly;
Unknowing to return, ftill urge the foe,
As fate infatiate, and as fure the blow.
The fon, who next his conquering father fought,
Repeats the wonders his example taught:
Eager his fire's illuftrious fteps to trace,
And by heroic deeds affert his race.
The royal eagle thus her ripening brood
Trains to the quarry, and directs to blood:
His darling thus, the foreft monarch rears,
A firm affociate for his future wars;
In union terrible, they feize the prey,
The mountains tremble, and the woods obey.
In peace united, as in war combin'd,
Were Jonathan's and Saul's affections join'd,
Paternal grace with filial duty vy'd,
And love the knot of nature closer ty’d.
Ev'n fate relents, reveres the sacred band,
And undivided bids their friendship stand.
From earth to heaven enlarg'd, their joys improve,
Still fairer, brighter ftill they fhine above,
Bleft in a long eternity of love.
Daughters of Ifrael, o'er the royal urn
Wail and lament; the king, the father, mourn.
Oh! now at least indulge a pious woe,
'Tis all the dead receive, the living can bestow.
Caft off your rich attire and proud array,
Let undiffembled forrows cloud the day:
Those ornaments victorious Saul bestow'd,
With gold your necks, your robes with purple glow'd:
Quit crowns, and garlands, for the fable weed,
To fongs of triumph let dumb grief fucceed
Let all our grateful hearts for our dead patron
How are the mighty fallen!
Though thus diftrefs'd, though thus o'erwhelm'd with
Light is the burthen that admits relief;
My labouring foul fuperior woes opprefs,
Nor rolling time can heal, nor fate redrefs.
Another Saul your forrows can remove,
No fecond Jonathan shall bless my love.
O Jonathan my friend, my brother dear !
Eyes, ftream afresh, and call forth every tear :
Swell, my fad heart, each faultering pulfe beat low,
Down fink my head beneath this weight of woe:
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