The duke fhall wield his conquering fword,
The chancellor make a speech,
The king fhall pafs his honeft word,
The pawn'd revenue fums afford,
And then, come kiss my
So have I seen a king on chess
(His rooks and knights withdrawn,
His queen and bishops in distress)
Shifting about, grow lefs and lefs,
With here and there a pawn.
A SONG for Sty CECILIA's Day, 1687.
ROM harmony, from heavenly harmony
This univerfal frame began :
When nature underneath a heap
Of jarring atoms lay,
And could not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
Arife, ye more than dead.
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their stations leap,
And Mufic's power obey.
From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
This univerfal frame began :
From harmony to harmony
Through all the compafs of the notes it ran,
The diapafon clofing full in Man.
What paffion cannot Mufic raise and quell!
When Jubal ftruck the chorded shell,
His liftening brethren ftood around,
And, wondring, on their faces fell
To worship that celeftial found.
Lefs than a God they thought there could not dwell
Within the hollow of that fhell,
That spoke fo fweetly and fo well.
What paffion cannot Music raise and quell?
The trumpet's loud clangor
Excites us to arms,
With fhrill notes of anger
And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thundering drum
Cries, hark! the foes come;
Charge, Charge, 'tis too late to retreat.
The foft complaining flute
In dying notes difcovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whofe dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
Sharp violins proclaim
Their jealous pangs, and defperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of paffion,
For the fair, difdainful; dame.
But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach,
The facred organ's praise ?
Notes infpiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.
Orpheus could lead the favage race;
And trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the lyre :
But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher :
When to her organ vocal breath was given,
An angel heard, and ftraight appear'd
Miftaking earth for heaven.
Grand CHORUS.
As from the power of facred lays,
The fpheres began to move,
And fung the great Creator's praise
To all the bless'd above;
So when the laft and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet ball be heard on high,
The dead fhall live, the living die,
And Mufic fhall untune the sky.
Preferve, O facred tomb, thy trust consign'd;
The mould was made on purpose for the mind:
And fhe would lofe, if, at the latter day,
One atom could be mix'd of other clay.
Such were the features of her heavenly face,
Her limbs were form'd with fuch harmonious grace :
So faultlefs was the frame, as if the whole
Had been an emanation of the foul;
Which her own inward fymmetry reveal'd;
And like a picture fhone, in glass anneal'd.
Or like the fun eclips'd, with fhaded light :
Too piercing, elfe, to be fuftain'd by fight.
Each thought was visible that roll'd within :
As through a crystal cafe the figur'd hours are feen.
And heaven did this tranfparent veil provide,
Because she had no guilty thought to hide.
All white, a virgin-faint, fhe fought the skies:
For marriage, though it fullies not, it dies.
High though her wit, yet humble was her mind;
As if he could not, or fhe would not find
How much her worth transcended all her kind..
Yet fhe had learn'd fo much of heaven below,
That when arriv'd, fhe fcarce had more to know:
But only to refresh the former hint ;
And read her Maker in a fairer print.
So pious, as the had no time to spare
For human thoughts, but was confin'd to prayer.
Yet in fuch charities she pass'd the day,
'Twas wondrous how the found an hour to pray.
A foul fo calm, it knew not ebbs or flows,
Which paffion could but curl, not discompose.
A female foftness, with a manly mind:
A daughter duteous, and a sister kind:
In sickness patient, and in death resign'd.`
EPITAPH on Mrs. MARGARET PASTON, of Burningham, in Norfolk.
O fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet,
So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit,
Require at least an age in one to meet.
In her they met; but long they could not stay,
'Twas gold too fine to mix without allay.
Heaven's image was in her fo well expreft,
Her very fight upbraided all the rest;
Too juftly ravish'd from an age like this,
Now fhe is gone, the world is of a piece.
On the MONUMENT of the MARQUIS of WINCHESTER.
HE, who in impious times undaunted flood,
And midft rebellion durft be just and good :
Whofe arms afferted, and whofe fufferings more
Confirm'd the caufe for which he fought before ;
Refts here, rewarded by an heavenly prince;
For what his earthly could not recompence.
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