6. Without thy prefence in vain blufhes the rofe, in
vain glows the ruby, the cinnamon breatheth its fragrance in vain.
7. Shall I make thee a house of the rich cedars of Lebanon? fhall I perfume it with all the spices of Arabia? Wilt thou be tempted with Sabean odours, with myrrh, frankincense, and aloes? 8. Doth my fair-one delight in palaces-doth fhe gladden the hearts of kings? The palaces are not a meet refidence for my beloved-the princes of the earth are not favoured with the fmiles of her countenance.
9. My fair-one is meek and humble, fhe dwelleth among the cottages, fhe tendeth the sheep upon the mountains, and lieth down amidft the flocks. The lilies of the field are her couch, and the heavens her canopy.
10. Her words are fmoother than oil, more powerful
than wine; her voice is as the voice of the turtledove.
II. Thou crownest the innocence of the husband
man, and the reward of virtue is with thee.
« Time and Chance happeneth to them all."
Ecclefiaft. ch. ix. ver. 11.
EADER, if fond of wonder and surprise,
Behold in me ten thousand wonders rise.
Should I appear quite partial to my cause,
Shout my own praife, and vindicate applause;
Do not arraign my modefty or sense,
Nor deem my character a vain pretence.
Know then I boast an origin and date
Coeval with the fun-without a mate
An offspring I beget in number more
Than all the crowded fands which form the shore.
That inftant they are born, my precious breed
Ah me! expire-yet my departed feed
Enter like spectres, with commiffion'd power,
The fecret chamber at the midnight hour;
Pervade alike the palace, and the shed,
The statesman's closet, and the ruftic's bed;
Serene and sweet, like envoys from the skies,
To all the good, the virtuous, and the wife;
But to the vicious breaft remorse they bring,
And bite like ferpents, or like fcorpions fting.
Being and birth to sciences I give,
By me they rise thro' infancy and live;
By me meridian excellence difplay,
And, like autumnal fruits, by me decay.
When poets, and when painters are no more,
And all the feuds of rival wits are o'er;
'Tis mine to fix their merit and their claim,
I judge their works to darkness or to fame.
I am a monarch, whose victorious hands
No craft eludes, no regal power withstands.
My annals prove fuch mighty conquests won,
As fhame the puny feats of Philip's fon.
But tho' a king, I feldom fway alone,
The goddess Fortune often shares my throne.
The human eye detects our blended rule,
Here we exalt a knave, and there a fool.
Afk you what powers our fovereign laws obey?
Creation is our empire-we convey
Sceptres and crowns at will--as we ordain,
Kings abdicate their thrones, and peasants reign.
Lovers to us addrefs the fervent prayer;
'Tis ours to foften or fubdue the fair:
We now like angels fmile, and now destroy,
Now bring, or blast, the long-expected joy.
At our fair fhrine ambitious churchmen bow,
And crave the mitre to adorn the brow.
Go to the inns of court-the learned drudge
Implores our friendship to commence a judge.
Go, and confult the fons of Warwick Lane;
They own our favours, and adore our reign.
Theirs is the gold, 'tis true-but all men fee
Our claim is better founded to the fee.
Reader, thus fublunary worlds we guide,
Thus o'er your natal planets we preside.
Kingdoms and kings are ours-to us they fall,
We carve their fortunes, and dispose of all.
Nor think that kings alone engross our choice,
The cobler fits attentive to our voice.
But fince my colleague is a fickle she, Abjure my colleague, and depend on me. Either fhe fees not, or with partial eyes,
Either she grants amifs, or fhe denies,
But, I, who pity those that wear her chain,
Scorn the capricious meafures of her reign;
In every gift, and every grace excel,
And feldom fail their hopes, who use me well.
Yet tho' in me unnumber'd treasures fhine,
Superior to the rich Peruvian mine!
Tho' men to my indulgence hourly owe
The choiceft of their comforts here below:
(For men's best tenure, as the world agree,
Is all a perquifite deriv❜d from me)
Still man's my foe! ungrateful man, I fay,
Who meditates my murder every day.
What various scenes of death do men prepare!
And what affaffinations plot the fair!
But know affuredly, who treat me ill,
Who mean to rob me, or who mean to kill,
Who view me with a cold regardless eye,
And let my favours pass unheeded by;
They shall lament their folly when too late ;
So mourns the prodigal his loft eftate!
While they who with fuperior forethought blest,
Store all my leffens in their faithful breaft;
|