Tho' fnatch'd, alas! from our defiring eyes,
Still in my breaft thy lov'd memorial lies,
By facred friendship faithfully inurn'd,
For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd.

Advice to a LADY upon the Death of ber
LOVER.

WHA

HAT, full these mournful plaints,and flowing eyes ! [fighs! Thefe direful piercing groans, and scalding This energy of grief's, alas! in vain, 'Twill never, never bring him back again. Hark, fair one, but to thefe feraphick lays! Your drooping foul I'll from the bed of forrow raife.

Behold yon azure roof, whofe radiant light,

With wond'rous glory terminates the fight; There dwells a lover of majestick grace, Beauteous his form, ineffable his face, Extatick all his charms, fo good, fo kind, You never can addrefs, but will acceptance find;

A boundless paffion, there you may expand, Rapid as floods, which fhores nor rocks

withstand;

A PANEGYRICK on a LOUSE.
In the Stile of MILTON.
Loufe, inhabitant of school-boys crat,
Or who on taylors pericranium
crawl' ft,

Luxurious animal! whofe daily food
The richest emanations are of man,
Which from th' imperial feat of reafon flow.
Beneath the poet's rectilineal wig,
When to the filent, folitary gloom
Of his aerial manfion he afcends,
Thou rid'ft triumphant; his companion
fole,

His labour's confort, and invention's aid:
For when the peevish muse her help denies,
And dinner hangs dependent on a rhyme,
He, by the pleafing titillation mov'd,
Scratches the with'd idea from his brain.'
Shall he in dedications daub a lord,
Or fing his mistress in the jocund ode,
And vainly to himself afcribe the strain ?
Ungrateful bard! to thee of right belong
His lordship's virtues and Aurelia's charms,
To thee, his best of patrons, mufes, friends.
-fing in the Fields.

On bearing Mifs

(0! Middleton, let Britain fing thy praife, Ruin'd yourself, a general good to raise; Let thy great deeds for ever, be the thepre Of those who taste the comfortable stream: Then while each bard thy glorious works rehearse,

Your fame fhall live in never dying verse, While murmuring thro' the richly fertile ground

Thy generous work re-echo's back the found.) Here fwains and nymphs on holidays repair

To breathe the fweets of unpolluted air; Here youthful lovers melt the yielding lafs With amorous kitles on the verdant grafs ; Here Damon tunes his pipe, here Chloe fings Enlivening numbers to th' exulting strings. Charm'd with the rapt'rous notes, the

herds around

In filent wonder hear the heavenly found;
Fierce wolves and gentle lambs together
throng
[long

From diftant vales to hear the tuneful
Extatick raptures ufual tears affwage,
And rav'nous Reynard hears away his rage.
Not e'en when Orpheus fought his confort
loft

Around the dens of the infernal coaft,
Tho' o'er ftern Proferpine he could prevail,
And triumph'd over furies, death and hel!;
Ev'n he, bright maid, to you could ne'er
compare,
[clear:

His notes lefs pleafing and his founds lefs The mufes greater pow'r to Chloe's giv'n, Here folemn airs can raise a foul to heav'n. Thy ftreams, O Midleton! the fong infpire,

Augment her voice and animate the lyre : The murmuring noise makes louder num[kies.

bers rife,

And fills with echoing founds the ambient W. G.

Upon the Sight of thefe Words, rit on a Grave-flone, As I am, fo fhalt thou be. ND muft I then a loathfome carcafs [thee? Stench and corruption, and abhor'd like Must worms gorge on this flesh, and then,

A be,

alas !

To mould'ring earth this noble fabrick pafs?" No more rejoice at morn's approaching light,

Confin'd to filence and eternal night? Laid in the lonely chamber of a grave, Defpis'd and trod upon by ev'ry flave? Soft numbers touch'd upon the dancing ftring, [bring?

No more their tuneful, sprightly pleasures Nor Sylvia, tho' her form with angels vies, Strike me with raptures thro' my dark'ned eyes?

Nor Cyprus, nor Frontiniac wines, with mirth Regale my palate, turn'd, alas! to earth? Nor

A

ODE to PYTHIAS.

H obat, at laft, doth Pythias find That here's no real joy below? A truth, you once inforc'd to kind, Could it be thought you did not know? Daphne can in her age reflect

Upon the conquefts fhe has made, And fee at laft her own neglect 'Tis, caufes her to live a maid. Youth, by experience, feels the woe, Reflection would have taught to shun; If not by this, you could but know, I lov'd, and was by love undone.

LYSIS.

Who flood when tempted not, who fell when But like great BEAUFORT, ancient kings defcent,

A CALVINISTICAL REFLECTION. HO' pure my hands, and free from

Tguilty stains,

And indiffolv'd each focial tie remains:
Altho' no hufband mourns his injur'd bed,
Nor pines with grief the violated maid:
Altho' I pay each just return I owe,
And, fympathetick, feel another's woe
With liberal hand fuftain the needy poor;
And age and fickness blefs my op'ning door:
Tho' each complaint, each bursting figh
I hear,

Melt for each want, and pity ev'ry tear
Yet fome dark tenet fhould I difbelieve,
Or dare to doubt what I can ne'er conceive;
Still in the paths of error have I trod,
A foe to virtue, reafon, and to God.

S. H.

To this was fubjoined the following Note

If any one think the above fentiment fevere or unjuft, let him take a view of the conduct of the father and founder of this fect: Let him confider him as perfecuting, for a difference in opinion, poor Servetus, once his most intimate friend; fee him, by his management and intereft with the magiftrates of Geneva, procuring his imprisonment, reducing him, by a long confinement, to disease and mifery, and at laft, with taunts and reproaches, bringing him to the stake.-Doubtlefs, Calvin.muft have thought Servetus a foe to virtue, reason, and to God.

(His WATKIN loft who nobly muft la Sincere of beart, his words not empty breath,

And uniform his action ey'n to death.
His mind was large, and open like his door,
And next bis country flood the needy poor:
No feign'd affection clouds the forehead here,
For interested grief impels the real tear.
Sudden the ftroke; furprize it could not be ;
So prompt, prepar'd, and vigilant was He;
Who v'd, who dy'd with Britain's juft
applaufe;
[caufe.
Since only death could wreft him from ber

And to all other miferies gives birth :
'Tis that which antedates all human woes,
Disturbs our minds, imbitters (weet repofe;
Intoxicates our fouls with idle dreams,
Of noblemantions, parks and purling streams:
Sinks us to hell, now lifts us to the sky,
Now vexes, pleafes, and we know not why.
Were I as wealthy as a Sourb-Sea dream,
Wifbing's the fole expedient to be lean;
Nay, even like Craefus blefs'd with countless
store,
[poor.
The hectic wishing foon would make me

The

But virtue only can fecure the prize, Yet with bright beauty's charms we rarely find

The brighter beauties of a gen'rous mind:
But be it H-n's praife, in both t'excel,
The art of pleafing much, and judging well:
Stranger to envy, and its handmaid pride,
Virtue's her aim, and innocence her guide;
Whofe ear ne'er felt the torture of offence
At praise bestow'd upon another's sense;
Too juft, too perfect in herself, to claim.
Her merit from a neighbour's injur'd tame :
She forms her will from heav'n's unerring
laws,

And thence directs her cenfure or applaufe;
An enemy to vice, to worth a friend,
Loth to reprove, but willing to commend.
Exalted virtues! bleft with endless bloom,
To please, and profit ages yet to come;
For time's worst injury to her must be,
To prove her lower than divinity;
When all thofe foft perfections fhall decay,
And that sweet heav'n or beauty fade away.
This, and much more, fair H, is
[purfue,

your due,

And with delight the theme I cou'd But confcious weakness checks th' am

To rectify my thoughts, and mend my With bealing forrows pierc'd my youthful

breaft,

To make me contrite, penitent, and bleft. No longer now I wear thofe wrankling chains,

A death diurnal of inceffant pains;
With all the ghaftly horrors that appear,
Marks of heav'n's wrath, and guilty mortals
fear.

With facred rev'rence I his aid implore,
And God all-bounteous does my peace

reftore :

By his command my fins fhall be forgiv'n, And this dark view of kell,procure me beaven. PPP THE