Several Occaſions.
Together with the
Song of the Three Children

By the Lady Mary Chudleigh. .

Printed by W. B. for Bernard Lintott at the
Middle Temple Gate in Fleetſtreet. 17031703.

A1v A2r

To the Queen’s Moſt Excellent Majeſty.


’Tis not without awful Thoughts and a trembling Hand that theſe Poems are laid at your Royal Feet. The Addreſs has too A2 much A2v much Confidence; the Ambition is too aſpiring; But to whom ſhould a Woman unknown to the World, and who has not Merit enough to defend her from the Cenſure of Criticks, fly for Protection, but to Your Majeſty? The Greateſt, the Beſt, and the moſt Illuſtrious Perſon of Your Sex and Age.

That wonderful Condeſcenſion, that ſurprizing Humility, and admirable Sweetneſs of Temper, which induc’d Your Majeſty to accept a Congratulatory Ode on Your happy Acceſſion to the Crown, give Ground to hope that from a Goodneſs and Generoſity boundleſs as Yours, I may promiſemiſe A3r miſe my ſelf both Pardon and Protection, who am, with the profoundeſt Veneration,

Madam, Your Majeſty’s moſt Loyal, moſt Humble, and moſt Obedient Servant,

Mary Chudleigh.

A3v A4r


The following Poems were written at ſeveral Times, and on ſeveral Subjects: If the Ladies, for whom they are chiefly deſign’d, and to whoſe Service they are intirely devoted, happen to meet with any thing in them that is entertaining, I have all I am at. They were the Employment of my leiſure Hours, the innocent Amuſement of a ſolitary Life: In them they’ll find a Picture of my Mind, my Sentiments all laid open to their View; they’ll ſometimes ſee me cheerful, pleas’d, ſedate and quiet; at other times griev’d, complaining, ſtruggling with my Paſſions, blaming my ſelf, endeavouring to pay a Homage to my Reaſon, and reſolving for the future, with a decent Calmneſs, and unſhaken Conſtancy, and a reſigning Temper, A4 to A4v to ſupport all the Troubles, all the uneaſineſſes of Life, and then by unexpected Emergencies, unforeſeen Diſappointments, ſudden and ſurprizing Turns of Fortune, diſcompos’d, and ſhock’d, till I have rallied my ſcatter’d Forces, got new Strength, and by making an unweary’d Reſiſtance, gain’d the better of my Afflictions, and reſtor’d my Mind to its former Tranquillity.

’Tis impoſſible to be happy without making Reaſon the Standard of all our Thoughts, Words and Actions, and firmly reſolving to yield a conſtant, ready, and cheerful Obedience to its Dictates. Thoſe who are govern’d by Opinion, inſlav’d to Cuſtom, and Vaſſals to their Humors, are Objects of Pity, if ſuch as are wretched by their own Choice, can be properly ſaid to deſerve Commiſeration. They act by no ſteady Principles, are always reſtleſs, disturb’d, and uneaſie; ſometimes agitated by one Paſſion, and ſometimes by another, fretting about Trifles, and lamenting the Loſs of ſuch Things, as others would think it a part of their Felicity to be without.

What A5r

What we generally call Misfortunes, what we fancy to be Miſeries, are not really ſo; they exiſt only in the Imagination, are Creatures of the Brain, Troubles of our own forming, and like Phantoms vaniſh as ſoon as Reaſon ſhines clear.

Would we contract our Deſires, and learn to think that only neceſſary, which Nature has made ſo, we ſhould be no longer fond of Riches, Honours, Applauſes, and ſeveral other Things which are the unhappy Occaſions of much Miſchief to the World, which unavoidably involve Mankind in great Miſery, and draw after them a long Train of Vice; and doubtleſs were we ſo happy as to have a true Notion of the Dignity of our Nature, of thoſe great Things for which we are deſign’d, and of the Duration and Felicity of that State to which we are haſtning, we ſhould ſcorn to ſtoop to mean Actions, bluſh at the very Thoughts of doing any thing below our Character, and look on the little worthleſs Concerns of Life, viz. on the amaſſing Treaſures, the gaining Titles, A5v Titles, the making a pompous Appearance, and the gratifying our Appetites, as Trifles below our Care, and unworthy of our Thoughts, Things too mean to be the Buſineſs, much leſs the Delight of rational Beings, of ſuch as were created for nobler, and much more ſublime Employments: We ſhould then without Regret, or at leaſt with Patience and a becoming Submiſſion to the Divine Pleaſure, ſee our ſelves depriv’d of thoſe Things which we now falſly fancy to be conſtituent Parts of our Happineſs; we ſhould then, if Death wounds us in the tendereſt part of our Souls, robs us of what ’tis moſt allowable for us to prize, ſnatches from us our deareſt Relations, our beſt, our darling Friends, look on them as Perſons not loſt, but only remov’d to better, more bliſsful Habitations, and where we may reaſonably flatter our ſelves with the hope, that they may have the ſame Kindneſs for us, the ſame Friendſhip, the ſame Inclinations, the ſame Readineſs to do us obliging Offices, and where we ſhall very ſhortly meet again, and renew our Endearments, and where our Love ſhall be as laſting as our Souls, as great as our Happineſs.

The A6r

The way to be truly eaſie, to be always ſerene, to have our Paſſions under a due Government, to be wholly our own, and not to have it in the Power of Accidents, of things foreign to us to ruffle and diſturb our Thoughts, is to retire into our ſelves, to live upon our own Stock, to accuſtom our ſelves to our own Converſation, to be pleas’d with nothing but what ſtrictly and properly ſpeaking, we may juſtly pretend a Right to; of which kind, ſuch things can never be ſaid to be, of which ’tis in the Power of Fortune to deprive us.

No Joy but what reſults from virtuous Actions, no Pleaſure but what ariſes from a Senſe of having done what we ought, no Acquiſition but that of Wiſdom, no Applauſe but that of Conſcience, is truly deſirable; ſuch Delights as theſe, ſuch valuable Treaſures, are the Things I would recommend to my Sex: I would have them no longer ſolicitous about Impertinences, anxious about Trifles, Slaves to their own Humors, and a Prey to every mean deſigning Flatterer; I would A6v would not have them employ more Time in beautifying their Faces, in rendring themſelves agreeable, than in adorning their Minds, and enriching their Underſtandings: There is a noble Diſdain, a becoming and allowable Pride; ’tis commendable to ſcorn to be below others in Things that are eſſentially Praiſe-worthy, and they may be permitted to put a true Value on themſelves, when inſtead of exciting them to Vanity, giving them wrong Notions of Perfection, falſe Ideas of their own Merits, it tends only to the raiſing them above thoſe mean deſpicable Things, thoſe contemptible Accompliſhments of which the moſt are proud: I beg their Pardon for preſuming ſo freely to adviſe them, and I own it to be a Fault which nothing but the Zeal I have for them can excuſe.

Theſe Poems begin with a very long one on the Death of the Duke of Gloceſter: Tho’ I never had the Honour to view the fair Original, ſo that I pretend not to draw from the Life, yet having had from Perſons on whom I can well depend, a juſt and full Character of him, as of a Prince of wonderfulful A7r ful Hopes, and who at his firſt Appearance, in his Dawn of Life, the Morning of his Age, diſcover’d a ſhining Merit, a more than ordinary Propenſity to Knowledge, a winning Sweetneſs of Temper, join’d with a Generoſity becoming his Birth: In a word, all thoſe great and diſtinguiſhing Qualities which raiſe his Royal Parents as much above thoſe of their own Rank, as their ſublime Dignity has elevated them above the meaneſt of the People, I thought ſo great a Loſs would ſufficiently juſtifie all I cou’d ſay on that Subject, and render the Length of it excuſable.

The A7v A8r A8v


  • Page 3 line 27 for quench read quench’d.
  • p. 61 l. 6. deledelete that.
  • p.83 l. 5. for unkindled r. enkindled.
  • p. 108. for who r. who’s.
  • p. 119. l. 10. for delare r. declare.
  • In the Song of the Three Children,
  • p. 7. l. 5. for Reflexion. r. Reflection.
  • p. 20. l. 2. for bare r. bore.
  • p. 30. l. 27. for maſte r. make.
  • p. 42. l. 10. for Nation r. Nations.
  • p. 46. l. 6. for Deſerts r. Deſarts.

On the Death of his Highneſs the Duke of Gloceſter.


Ile take my Leave of Buſineſs, Noiſe and Care,

And truſt this ſtormy Sea no more:

Condemn’d to Toil, and fed with Air,

I’ve often ſighing look’d towards the Shore:

And when the boiſtrous Winds did ceaſe,

And all was ſtill, and all was Peace,

Afraid of Calms, and flatt’ring Skies,

On the deceitful Waves I fixt my Eyes,

And on a ſudden ſaw the threatning Billows riſe:

Then trembling beg’d the Pow’rs Divine,

Some little ſafe Retreat might be for ever mine:

O give, I cry’d, where e’er you pleaſe,

Thoſe Gifts which Mortals prize,

Grown fond of Privacy and Eaſe,

I now the gaudy Pomps of Life deſpiſe.

Still let the Greedy ſtrive with Pain,

T’augment their ſhining Heaps of Clay;

And puniſh’d with the Thirſt of Gain,

Their Honour loſe, their Conſcience ſtain:

Let th’ambitious Thrones deſire

And ſtill with guilty haſt aſpire;

Thro’ Blood and Dangers force their Way,

And o’er the World extend their Sway,

B Mywhile B1v 2

While I my time to nobler Uſes give,

And to my Books, and Thoughts entirely live;

Thoſe dear Delights, in which I ſtill ſhall find

Ten thouſand Joys to feaſt my Mind,

Joys, great as Senſe can bear, from all its Droſs refin’d.


The Muſe well pleaſ’d, my choice approv’d,

And led me to the Shades ſhe lov’d:

To Shades, like thoſe firſt fam’d Abodes

Of happy Men, and rural Gods;

Where, in the World’s bleſt Infant State,

When all in Friendſhip were combin’d

And all were juſt, and all were kind;

E’re glitt’ring Show’rs, diſpers’d by Jove,

And Gold were made the Price of Love,

The Nymphs and Swains did bleſs their Fate,

And all their mutual Joys relate,

Danc’d and ſung, and void of Strife.

Enjoy’d all Harmleſs Sweets of Life;

While on their tuneful Reeds their Poets play’d,

And their chaſt Loves to future Times convey’d.


Cool was the place, and quiet as my Mind,

The Sun cou’d there no Entrance find:

No ruffling Winds the Boughs did move:

The Waters gently crept along,

As with their flowry Banks in Love:

The Birds with ſoft harmonious Strains,

Sad Philomela ſung her Pains,

Expreſs’d B2r 3

Expreſs’d her Wrongs, and her Deſpair;

I listen’d to her mournful Song,

The charming Warbler pleas’d,

And I, me thought, with new Delight was ſeiz’d:

Her Voice with tender’ſt Paſſions fill’d my Breaſt,

And I felt Raptures not to be expreſs’d;

Raptures, till that ſoft Hour unknown,

My Soul ſeem’d from my Body flown:

Vain World, ſaid I, take, take my laſt adieu,

I’le to my ſelf, and to my Muſe be true,

And never more phantaſtick Forms purſue:

Such glorious Nothings let the Great adore,

Let them their airy Juno’s court,

I’le be deceiv’d no more,

Nor to the Marts of Fame reſort:

From this dear Solitude no more remove,

But here confine my Joy, my Hope, my Love.


Thus were my Hours in Extaſies employ’d,

And I the ſecret Sweets of Life enjoy’d:

Serene, and calm, from every Preſſure free,

Inſlav’d alone by flatt’ring Poeſie:

But Oh! how pleaſing did her Fetters prove!

How much did I, th’endearing Charmer Love!

No former Cares durſt once my Soul moleſt,

No paſt Unkindneſs diſcompos’d my Breaſt;

All was forgot, as if in Lethe’s Stream

I’d quench my Thirſt, the paſt was all a Dream:

But as I pleas’d my ſelf with this unenvy’d ſtate,

Behold! a wondrous Turn of Fate!

A hollow Melancholy Sound

Diſpers’d an awful Horror round,

B2 And B2v 4

And hideous Groans thro’ all the Grove reſound

Nature the diſmal Noiſe did hear,

Nature her ſelf did ſeem to fear:

The bleating Flocks lay trembliung on the Plains;

The Brooks ran murmuring by,

And Echo to their Murmurs made reply:

The lofty Trees their verdant Honours ſhake;

The frighted Birds with haſt their Boughs forſake,

And for ſecurer Seats to diſtant Groves repair.

The much wrong’d Philomel durſt now no more

Her former Injuries deplore;

Forgot were all her moving Strains

Forgot each ſweet melodious Air;

The weaker Paſſion, Grief, ſurrendred to her Fear.


A ſudden Gloom its dusky Empire ſpread,

And I was ſeiz’d with an unuſual dread:

Where e’er I look’d, each Object brought affright:

And I cou’d only mournful Accents hear,

Which from th’adjacent Hills did wound my Ear;

Th’adjacent Hills the gen’ral Horror ſhare:

Amaz’d I ſat, depriv’d of all Delight,

The Muſe was fled, fled ev’ry pleaſing Thought,

And in their Room were black Ideas brought,

By buſie Fear, and active Fancy wrought.

At length the doleful Sound drew near,

And lo, the Britiſh Genius did appear!

Solemn his Pace,

Dejected were his Eyes,

And from his Breaſt thick thronging Sighs ariſe:

The Tears ran down his venerable Face,

And he with Lamentations loud fill’d all the ſacred Place.

6. He’s B3r 5


He’s Dead he cry’d! the young, the much belov’d!

From us too ſoon, Ah! much too ſoon remov’d!

Snatch’d hence in his firſt Dawn, his Infant Bloom!

So fell Marcellus by a rigorous Doom.

The Good, the Great, the Joy, the Pride of Rome!

But Oh! he wants like him a Maro to rehearſe

His early worth in never dying Verſe:

To ſing thoſe riſing Wonders which in him were ſeen;

That Morning light which did it ſelf diſplay,

Preſaging earneſt of a glorious Day;

His Face was Charming, and his Make Divine,

As if in him aſſembl’d did combine

The num’rous Graces of his Royal Line:

Such was Aſcanius, when from flaming Troy

Pious Æneas led the lovely Boy,

And ſuch the God when to the Tyrian Queen

A welcom Gueſt he came;

And in his Shape careſs’d th’ illuſtrious Dame

And kindled in her Breaſt the inauſpicious Flame.


But this, alas! was but th’ exterior part;

For the chief Beauties were within:

There Nature ſhew’d her greateſt Art,

And did a Maſter-piece begin:

But ah! the Strokes were much too fine,

Too delicate to laſt:

Sweet was his Temper, generous his Mind,

And much beyond his Years, to Martial Arts inclin’d:

Averſe to Softneſs, and for one ſo young,

B3 His B3v 6

His Senſe was manly, and his Reaſon ſtrong:

What e’er was taught him he would learn ſo faſt

As if ’twas his deſign

When he to full Maturity was grown,

Th’applauding World amaz’d ſhould find

What e’er was worthy to be known,

He with the nobleſt Toil had early made his own.


Such, ſuch was he, whoſe Loſs I now lament;

O Heav’n! why was this matchleſs Bleſsing ſent!

Why but juſt ſhewn, and then, our Grief to raiſe,

Cut off in the beginning of his Days!

Had you beheld th’afflicted Royal Pair

Stand by that Bed, where the dear Suff’rer lay

To his Diſeaſe a helpleſs Prey,

And ſeen them gaze on the ſad doubtful Strife,

Between contending Death, and ſtrugling Life,

Obſerv’d thoſe Paſſions which their Souls did move,

Thoſe kind Effects of tender’ſt Love;

Seen how their Joys a while did ſtrive

To keep their fainty Hopes alive,

But ſoon alas! were forc’d to yield

To Grief and dire Deſpair,

The ſhort conteſted Field:

And them in that curſt Moment view’d,

When by prevailing Death ſubdu’d,

Breathleſs and pale, the beauteous Victim lay,

When his unwilling Soul was forc’d away

From that lov’d Body which it lately bleſt,

That Manſion worthy ſo divine a Gueſt,

You muſt have own’d, no Age could ever ſhow

A ſadder Sight, a Scene of vaſter Woe.

9. Sorrow B4r 7


Sorrow like theirs, what Language can expreſs!

Their All was loſt, their only Happineſs!

The good Ægeus, could not more be griev’d

When he the Sable Flag perceiv’d,

Than was the Prince; but we this difference find,

The laſt was calmer, more reſign’d,

And had the ſtronger, more Majeſtick Mind:

He knew Complaints could give him no Relief,

And therefore caſt a Veil upon his ſullen Grief;

Th’afflicted Princeſs could not thus controul

The tender Motions of her troubled Soul:

Unable to reſiſt, ſhe gave her Sorrows way,

And did the Dictates of her Grief obey:

Maternal Kindneſs ſtill does preference claim,

And always burns with a more ardent Flame:

But ſure no Heart was ever thus oppreſt,

The Load is much too great to bear;

In ſad Complaints are all her Minutes ſpent,

And ſhe lives only to lament:

All ſoft Delights are Strangers to her Breaſt:

His unexpected Fate does all her Thoughts ingroſs,

And ſhe ſpeaks nothing but her mighty Loſs.

So mourn’d Andromache when ſhe beheld

Aſtyanax expos’d to lawleſs Pow’r,

Precipitated from a lofty Tow’r:

Depriv’d of Life the Royal Youth remain’d

And with the richeſt Trojan Blood the Pavement ſtain’d:

Speechleſs ſhe gaz’d, and by her Grief impell’d,

Fearleſs amidſt the Græcian Troops ſhe run,

And to her panting Boſom claſp’d her mangl’d Son.

B4 10. As B4v 8


As thus he ſpoke Britannia did appear,

Attended by a Sylvan Throng,

And with her brought the River Nymphs along:

He’s dead! he’s dead! the Genius loudly cry’d,

On whoſe dear Life you did ſo much depend,

He’s dead, He’s dead, ſhe mournfully reply’d:

Heav’n would not long the mighty Bleſſing lend:

Some envious Pow’r, who does my Greatneſs fear,

Foreſeeing if he ſhou’d to Manhood live,

He’d glorious Proofs of wondrous Valor give:

To diſtant Lands extend his Sway,

And teach remoteſt Nations to obey:

Reſolv’d no pow’rful Art his Life ſhould ſave,

Nor I ſhould longer my lov’d Gloucester have.

No more they ſaid, but to their Sighs gave way,

The Nymphs and Swains all griev’d no leſs than they.

He’s dead! he’s dead! they weeping ſaid;

In his cold Tomb the lovely Youth is laid,

And has too ſoon, alas! too ſoon the Laws of Fate obey’d.

No more, no more ſhall he theſe Groves adorn,

No more by him ſhall flow’ry Wreaths be worn:

No more, no more we now on him ſhall gaze,

No more divert him with our rural Lays,

Nor ſee him with a godlike Smile receive our humble Praiſe.

Their loud Laments the Nereids hear,

And full of Grief, and full of Fear,

Their watry Beds in haſte forſake;

And from their Locks the pearly Moiſture ſhake:

All with one Voice the much lov’d Youth lament,

And in pathetic Strains their boundleſs Sorrow vent.

II. Upon B5r 9


Upon the Ground I penſive lay;

Complain’d and wept as much as they:

My Country’s Loſs became my own,

And I was void of Comfort grown.

He’s dead! he’s dead! with them I cry’d,

And to each Sigh, each Groan reply’d.

The Thracian Bard was not more mov’d,

When he had loſt the Fair he lov’d;

When looking back to pleaſe his Sight

With all that could his Soul delight,

He ſaw her ſink int’ everlaſting Night.

The Sorrows of the Princeſs pierc’d my Heart,

And I, me thought, felt all her Smart:

I wiſh’d I cou’d allay her Pain,

Or part of her Affliction ſhare;

But Oh! ſuch Wiſhes are in vain,

She muſt alone the pond’rous Burthen bear.

O Fate unjuſt! I then did cry,

Why muſt the young, the virtuous die!

Why in their Prime be ſnatch’d away,

Like beauteous Flow’rs which ſoon decay,

While Weeds enjoy the Warmth of each ſucceeding Day?


While thus I mourn’d, a ſudden Light the Place o’er ſpread

Back to their genuine Night the frighted Shadows fled:

Dilating Skies diſclos’d a brighter Day,

And for a glorious Form made way;

For the fam’d Guardian of our Iſle:

The wondrous Viſion did with Pomp deſcend,

With B5v 10

With awful State his kind Approaches made,

And thus with an obliging Smile

To the much griev’d Britannia ſaid,

No more, my much lov’d Charge, no more

Your time in uſeleſs Sorrows ſpend;

He’s bleſt whoſe Loſs you thus deplore:

Above he lives a Life Divine,

And does with dazling Splendor ſhine:

I met him on th’ Æthereal Shore,

With Joy I did th’ illuſtrious Youth embrace,

And led him to his God-like Race,

Who ſit inthron’d in wondrous State,

Above the Reach of Death or fate:

The Caledonian Chiefs were there,

Who thro’ the World have ſpread their Fame,

And juſtly might immortal Trophies claim:

A long Deſcent of glorious Kings,

Who did, and ſuffer’d mighty things:

With them the Daniſh Heroes were,

Who long had ancient Kingdoms ſway’d,

And been by Warlike States obey’d:

With them they did their Honours ſhare,

With them refulgent Crowns did wear,

From all their Toils at length they ceaſe,

Bleſt with the Sweets of everlaſting Peace.


Among the reſt, that beauteous ſuff’ring Queen

Who’d all the turns of adverſe Fortune ſeen;

Robb’d of a Crown, and forc’d to mourn in Chains,

And on a Scaffold end her num’rous Pains

Receiv’d him with a cheerful Look,

And to her Arms her deareſt Off-ſpring took:

Next B6r 11

Next came the martyr’d Prince, who liv’d to know

The laſt Extremities of woe:

Expos’d unjuſtly to his People’s hate,

He felt the Rigor of remorſeleſs Fate.

Virtue and ſpotleſs Innocence,

Alas! are no Defence:

They rather to the Rage expoſe

Of bloody and relentleſs Foes:

Too fierce they ſhine, too glaring bright,

The Vicious cannot bear their Light.

Next came his Son, who long your Sceptre ſway’d,

And whom his Subjects joyfully obey’d;

Then laſt of all the fair Maria came,

Who lately grac’d the British Throne;

And there with a reviving Splendor ſhone,

But made a ſhort, a tranſient Stay,

By Death from all her Glories ſnatch’d away:

How vain is Beauty, Wealth, or Fame,

How few the Trophies of a boaſted Name!

Death can’t be brib’d, be won by none:

To Slaves and Kings a Fate a like, a like Regard is ſhown.


All theſe the lovely Youth careſt,

And welcom’d him to their eternal Reſt:

Welcome, they ſaid, to this our bliſsful Shore,

To never ending Joys, and Seats Divine,

To Realms where clear unclouded Glories ſhine,

Here you may ſafely ſtand and hear the Billows roar,

But ſhall be toſs’d on that tempeſtuous Sea no more:

No more ſhall grieve, no more complain,

But free from Care, and free from Pain,

With us for ever ſhall remain.

While B6v 12

While thus they ſpoke, celeſtial Muſick play’d,

And welcom! welcom! every Angel ſaid:

With eager haſt their Royal Gueſt they crown’d,

While welcom! welcom! echo’d all around,

And fill’d th’ Æthereal Court with the loud cheerful Sound.


He ſaid; and to ſuperior Joys return’d;

Britannia now no longer mourn’d:

No more the Nymphs, no more the Swains,

With Lamentations fill’d the Plains:

The Muſe came back, and with her brought

Each ſprightly, each delightful Thought:

Kindly ſhe rais’d me from the Ground,

And ſmiling wip’d my Tears away:

While Joy, ſhe ſaid, is ſpread around,

And do’s thro’ all the Groves reſound,

Will you to Grief a Tribute pay,

And mourn for one who’s far more bleſt,

Than thoſe that are of Crowns poſſeſt?

No more, no more you muſt complain,

But with Britannia now rejoice:

Britannia to the Choir above

Will add her charming Voice:

Not one of all her beauteous Train

But will obſequious prove;

And each will try who beſt can ſing,

Who can the higheſt Praiſes bring;

Who beſt deſcribe his happy State,

And beſt his preſent Joys relate.

Hark! Hark! the Birds are come again,

And each renews his ſweet melodious Strain.

Clear is the Skie, and bright the Day,

Among B7r 13

Among the Boughs ſweet Zephyrs play,

And all are pleas’d, and all are gay.

And dare you ſtill your Grief expreſs,

As if you wiſh’d his Honours leſs,

And with an envious Eye beheld his Happineſs?


Ah! cruel Muſe, with Sighs I ſaid,

Why do you thus your Slave upbraid?

I neither at his Bliſs repine;

Nor is’t my choice to diſobey:

Your Will, you know, has ſtill been mine;

And I would now my ready def’rence pay:

But Oh! in vain I ſtrive, in vain I try,

While my lov’d Princeſs grieves, I can’t comply:

Her Tears forbid me to rejoice,

And when my Soul is on the Wing,

And I would with Britannia ſing,

Her Sighs arreſt my Voice.

But if once more you’d have me cheerful prove,

And with your Shades again in Love,

Strive by your Charms to calm her troubled Mind;

Let her the Force of pow’rful Numbers find:

And by the Magick of your Verſe reſtore

Her former Peace, then add Delights unknown before

Let her be bleſt, my Joys will ſoon return,

But while ſhe grieves, I ne’er can ceaſe to mourn.

On B7v [ 14 ]

On the Vanities of this Life: A Pindarick Ode.


What makes fond Man the trifle Life deſire,

And with ſuch Ardor court his Pain?

’Tis Madneſs, worſe than Madneſs, to admire

What brings Ten thouſand Miſeries in its Train:

To each ſoft moment, Hours of Care ſucceed,

And for the Pleaſures of a Day,

With Years of Grief we pay;

So much our laſting Sorrows, our fleeting Joys exceed.

In vain, in vain, we Happineſs purſue,

That mighty Bleſſing is not here;

That, like the falſe miſguiding Fire,

Is fartheſt off, when we believe it near:

Yet ſtill we follow till we tire,

And in the fatal Chaſe Expire:

Each gaudy nothing which we view,

We fancy is the wiſh’d for Prize,

Its painted Glories captivate our Eyes;

Blinded by Pride, we hug our own Miſtake,

And fooliſhly adore that Idol which we make.


Some hope to find it on the Coaſts of Fame,

And hazard all to gain a glorious Name;

Proud of Deformity and Scars,

They B8r 15

They ſeek for Honour in the bloodieſt Wars;

On Dangers, unconcern’d, they run,

And Death it ſelf diſdain to ſhun:

This, the Rich with Wonder ſee,

And fancy they are happier far

Than thoſe deluded Heroes are:

But this, alas! is their Miſtake;

They only dream that they are bleſt,

For when they from their pleaſing Slumbers wake,

They’ll find their Minds with Swarms of Cares oppreſt,

So crouded, that no part is free

To entertain Felicity:

The Pain to get, and Fear to loſe,

Like Harpies, all their Joys devour:

Who ſuch a wretched Life wou’d chuſe?

Or think thoſe happy who muſt Fortune truſt?

That fickle Goddeſs is but ſeldom juſt.

Exterior things can ne’er be truly good,

Becauſe within her Pow’r;

This the wiſe Ancients underſtood,

And only wiſh’d for what wou’d Life ſuſtain;

Eſteeming all beyond ſuperfluous and vain.


Some think the Great are only bleſt,

Thoſe God-like Men who ſhine above the reſt:

In whom united Glories meet,

And all the lower World pay Homage at their Feet:

On their exalted Heights they ſit in State,

And their Commands bind like the Laws of Fate:

Their Regal Scepters, and their glitt’ring Crowns,

Imprint an awful Fear in ev’ry Breaſt:

Death ſhoots his killing Arrows thro’ their Frowns;

Their B8v 16

Their Smiles are welcom, as the Beams of Light

Were to the infant World, when firſt it roſe from Night.

Thus, in the Firmament of Pow’r above,

Each in his radiant Sphere does move,

Remote from common View;

Th’admiring Croud with Wonder gaze,

The diſtant Glories their weak Eyes amaze:

But cou’d they ſearch into the Truth of Things,

Cou’d they but look into the Thoughts of Kings;

If all their hidden Cares they knew,

Their Jealouſies, their Fears, their Pain,

And all the Troubles of their Reign,

They then wou’d pity thoſe they now admire;

And with their humble State content, wou’d nothing more deſire.


If any thing like Happineſs is here,

If any thing deſerves our Care,

’Tis only by the Good poſſeſt;

By thoſe who Virtue’s Laws obey,

And cheerfully proceed in her unerring Way;

Whoſe Souls are cleans’d from all the Dregs of Sin,

From all the baſe Alloys of their inferior Part,

And fit to harbour that Celeſtial Gueſt,

Who ne’r will be confin’d

But to a holy Breaſt.

The pure and ſpotleſs Mind,

Has all within

That the moſt boundleſs Wiſh can crave;

The moſt aſpiring Temper hope to have:

Nor needs the Helps of Art,

Nor vain Supplies of Senſe,

Aſſur’d of all in only Innocence.

5. Malice C1r 17


Malice and Envy, Diſcontent, and Pride,

Thoſe fatal Inmates of the Vicious Mind,

Which into dang’rous Paths th’ unthinking Guide,

Ne’er to the pious Breaſt admittance find.

As th’ upper Region is Serene and clear,

No Winds, no Clouds are there,

So with perpetual Calms the virtuous Soul is bleſt,

Thoſe Antepaſts of everlaſting Reſt:

Like ſome firm Rock amidſt the raging Waves

She ſtands, and their united force outbraves;

Contends, till from her Earthly Shackles free,

She takes her flight

Into immenſe Eternity,

And in thoſe Realms of unexhauſted Light,

Forgets the Preſſures of her former State.

O’er-joy’d to find her ſelf beyond the reach of Fate.


O happy Place! where ev’ry thing will pleaſe,

Where neither Sickneſs, Fear, nor Strife,

Nor any of the painful Cares of Life,

Will interrupt her Eaſe:

Where ev’ry Object charms the Sight,

And yields freſh Wonder and Delight,

Where nothing’s heard but Songs of Joy,

Full of Extaſie Divine,

Seraphick Hymns! which Love inſpire,

And fill the Breaſt with ſacred Fire:

Love refin’d from droſſy Heat,

C Rais’d C1v 18

Rais’d to a flame ſublime and great,

In ev’ry Heav’nly Face do’s ſhine,

And each Celeſtial Tongue employ:

What e’er we can of Friendſhip know,

What e’er we Paſſion call below,

Does but a weak Reſemblance bear,

To that bleſt Union which is ever there,

Where Love, like Life, do’s animate the whole,

As if it were but one bleſt individual Soul.


Such as a laſting Happineſs would have,

Muſt ſeek it in the peaceful Grave,

Where free from Wrongs the Dead remain.

Life is a long continu’d Pain,

A lingring ſlow Diſeaſe.

Which Remedies a while may eaſe,

But cannot work a perfect Cure:

Muſick with its inchanting Lays,

May for a while our Spirits raiſe,

Honour and Wealth may charm the Senſe,

And by their pow’rful Influence

May gently lull our Cares aſleep;

But when we think our ſelves ſecure,

And fondly hope we ſhall no future Ills endure,

Our Griefs awake again,

And with redoubl’d Rage augment our Pain:

In vain we ſtand on our Defence,

In vain a conſtant Watch we keep,

In vain each Path we guard;

Unſeen into our Souls they creep,

And when they once are there, ’tis very hard

With all our Strength to force them thence;

Like C2r 19

Like bold Intruders on the whole they ſeize,

A Part will not th’ inſatiate Victors pleaſe.


In vain, alas! in vain,

We Reaſon’s Aid implore,

That will but add a quicker Senſe of Pain,

But not our former Joys reſtore:

Thoſe few who by ſtrict Rules their Lives have led,

Who Reaſon’s Laws attentively have read;

Who to its Dictates glad Submiſſion pay,

And by their Paſſions never led aſtray,

Go reſolutely on in its ſevereſt Way,

Could never ſolid Satisfaction find:

The moſt that Reaſon can, is to perſuade the Mind,

Its Troubles decently to bear,

And not permit a Murmur, or a Tear,

To tell th’ inquiring World that any ſuch are there:

But while we ſtrive our Suff’rings to diſown,

And bluſh to have our Frailties known;

While from the publick View our Griefs we hide,

And keep them Priſ’ners in our Breaſt,

We ſeem to be, but are not truly bleſt;

What like Contentment looks, is but th’ Effect of Pride:

From it we no advantage win,

But are the ſame we were before,

The ſmarting Pains corrode us ſtill within;

Confinement do’s but make them rage the more:

Upon the vital Stock they prey,

And by inſenſible degrees they waſt our Life away.

C2 9. In C2v 20


In vain from Books we hope to gain Relief,

Knowledge does but increaſe our Grief:

The more we read, the more we find

Of th’ unexhauſted Store ſtill left behind:

To dig the wealthy Mine we try,

No Pain, no Labour ſpare;

But the lov’d Treaſure too profound does lie,

And mocks our utmoſt Induſtry:

Like ſome inchanted Iſle it does appear;

The pleas’d Spectator thinks it near;

But when with wide ſpread Sails he makes to ſhore,

His Hopes are loſt, the Phantom’s ſeen no more:

Aſham’d, and tir’d, we of Succeſs deſpair,

Our fruitleſs Studies we repent,

And bluſh to ſee, that after all our Care,

After whole Years on tedious Volumes ſpent,

We only darkly underſtand

That which we thought we fully knew;

Thro’ Labyrinths we go without a Clue,

Till in the dang’rous Maze our ſelves we loſe,

And neither know which Path t’avoid, or which to chuſe.

From Thought to Thought, our reſtleſs Minds are toſt,

Like Ship-wreck’d Mariners we ſeek the Land,

And in a Sea of Doubts are almoſt loſt.

The Phœnix Truth wrapt up in Miſts does lie,

Not to be clearly ſeen before we die;

Not till our Souls free from confining Clay,

Open their Eyes in everlaſting Day.

To C3r [ 21 ]

To Almyſtrea.


Permit Mariſſa in an artleſs Lay

To ſpeak her Wonder, and her Thanks repay:

Her creeping Muſe can ne’er like yours aſcend;

She has not Strength for ſuch a towring Flight.

Your Wit, her humble Fancy do’s tranſcend;

She can but gaze at your exalted Height:

Yet ſhe believ’d it better to expoſe

Her Failures, than ungrateful prove;

And rather choſe

To ſhew a want of Senſe, than want of Love:

But taught by you, ſhe may at length improve,

And imitate thoſe Virtues ſhe admires.

Your bright Example leaves a Tract Divine,

She ſees a beamy Brightneſs in each Line,

And with ambitious Warmth aſpires,

Attracted by the Glory of your Name,

To follow you in all the lofty Roads of Fame.


Merit like yours, can no Reſiſtance find,

But like a Deluge overwhelms the Mind;

Gives full Poſſeſſion of each Part,

Subdues the Soul, and captivates the Heart.

Let thoſe whom Wealth, or Intereſt unite,

Whom Avarice, or Kindred ſway

Who in the Dregs of Life delight;

And ev’ry Dictate of their Senſe obey,

C3 Learn C3v 22

Learn here to love at a ſublimer Rate,

To wiſh for nothing but exchange of Thoughts,

For intellectual Joys,

And Pleaſures more refin’d

Than Earth can give, or Fancy can create.

Let our vain Sex be fond of glitt’ring Toys,

Of pompous Titles, and affected Noiſe,

Let envious Men by barb’rous Cuſtom led

Deſcant on Faults,

And in Detraction find

Delights unknown to a brave gen’rous Mind,

While we reſolve a nobler Path to tread,

And from Tyrannick Cuſtom free,

View the dark Manſions of the mighty Dead,

And all their cloſe Receſſes ſee;

Then from thoſe awful Shades retire,

And take a Tour above,

And there, the ſhining Scenes admire,

Th’Opera of eternal Love;

View the Machines, on the bright Actors gaze,

Then in a holy Tranſport, bleſt Amaze,

To the great Author our Devotion raiſe,

And let our Wonder terminate in Praiſe.

To Cloriſſa.


To your lov’d Boſom pleas’d Mariſſa flies;

That place where ſacred Friendſhip gives a Right,

And where ten thouſand Charms invite.

Let others Pow’r and awful Greatneſs prize;

Let C4r 23

Let them exchange their Innocence and Fame

For the dear Purchaſe of a mighty Name:

Let greedy Wretches hug their darling Store,

The tempting Product of their Toils adore,

And ſtill with anxious Souls, deſire and graſp at more:

While I diſdain to have my Bliſs confin’d

To things which Fortune can beſtow, or take,

To things ſo foreign to the Mind,

And which no part of ſolid Pleaſure make:

Thoſe Joys of which I am poſſeſt

Are ſafely lodg’d within my Breaſt,

Where like deep Waters, undiſturb’d they flow,

And as they paſs, a glaſſy ſmoothneſs ſhow:

Unmov’d by Storms, or by th’ Attacks of Fate,

I envy none, nor wiſh a happier State.


When all alone in ſome belov’d Retreat,

Remote from Noiſe, from Buſ’neſs, and from Strife,

Thoſe conſtant curſt Attendants of the Great;

I freely can with my own Thoughts converſe,

And cloath them in ignoble Verſe,

’Tis then I taſt the moſt delicious Feaſt of Life:

There, uncontroul’d I can my ſelf ſurvey,

And from Obſervers free,

My intellectual Pow’rs diſplay,

And all th’opening Scenes of beauteous Nature ſee:

Form bright Ideas, and enrich my Mind,

Enlarge my Knowledge, and each Error find;

Inſpect each Action, ev’ry Word diſſect,

And on the Failures of my Life reflect:

Then from my ſelf, to Books, I turn my Sight,

And there, with ſilent Wonder and Delight,

C4 Gaze C4v 24

Gaze on th’ inſtructive venerable Dead,

Thoſe that in Virtue’s School were early bred,

And ſince by Rules of Honour always led;

Who its ſtrict Laws with niceſt Care obey’d,

And were by calm unbyaſs’d Reaſon ſway’d:

Their great Examples elevate my Mind,

And I the force of all their Precepts find;

By them inſpir’d, above dull Earth I ſoar,

And ſcorn thoſe Trifles which I priz’d before.


Next theſe Delights Love claims the chiefeſt Part,

That gentle Paſſion governs in my Heart:

Its ſacred Flames dilate themſelves around,

And like pure Æther no confinement know:

Where ever true Deſert is found,

I pay my Love and Wonder too:

Wit, when alone, has Pow’r to pleaſe,

And Virtue’s Charms reſiſtleſs prove;

But when they both combine,

When both together ſhine,

Who coldly can behold a Glory ſo Divine?

Since you, Cloriſſa, have a Right to theſe,

And ſince you both poſſeſs,

You’ve, ſure, a double title to my Love,

And I my fate ſhall bleſs,

For giving me a Friend, in whom I find

United, all the Graces of the Female kind.


Accept that Heart your Merit makes your own,

And let the Kindneſs for the Gift attone:

Love C5r 25

Love, Conſtancy, and ſpotleſs Truth I bring,

Theſe give a Value to the meaneſt Thing.

O! let our Thoughts, our Intereſts be but one,

Our Griefs and Joys, be to each other known:

In all Concerns we’ll have an equal Share,

Enlarge each Pleaſure, leſſen ev’ry Care:

Thus, of a thouſand Sweets poſſeſt,

We’ll live in one another’s Breaſt:

When preſent, talk the flying Hours away,

When abſent, thus, our tender Thoughts convey;

And, when by the Decrees of Fate

We’re ſummon’d to a higher State,

We’ll meet again in the bleſt Realms of Light,

And in each other there eternally delight.

To Mr. Dryden, on his excellent Tranſlation of Virgil.


Thou matchleſs Poet, whoſe capacious Mind

Contains the whole that Knowledge can impart,

Where we each charming Science find,

And ev’ry pleaſing Art:

Permit my Muſe in plain unpoliſh’d Verſe,

In humble Strains her Wonder to rehearſe:

From her low Shade ſhe lifts her dazl’d Sight,

And views the Splendor and amazing Height:

See’s boundleſs Wit, in artful Numbers play,

And like the glorious Source of Day,

To diſtant Worlds both Light and Heat convey.

2. Be- C5v 26


Before the happy Birth of Light,

E’er Nature did her forming Pow’r diſplay,

While blended in their native Night,

The Principles of all things lay;

Triumphant Darkneſs did her ſelf dilate,

And thro’ the Chaos with reſiſtleſs Sway

Her dusky Horrors ſpread;

Such in this Iſle was once our wretched State:

Dark melancholy Night her ſable Wings diſplay’d,

And all around her baleful Influence ſhed;

From Gloom, to Gloom, with weary’d Steps we ſtray’d,

Till Chaucer came with his deluſive Light,

And gave ſome tranſient Glimm’rings to the Night:

Next kinder Spencer with his Lunar Beams

Inrich’d our Skies, and wak’d us from our Dreams:

Then pleaſing Viſions did our Minds delight,

And airy Spectres danc’d before our Sight:

Amidſt our Shades in antick Rounds we mov’d,

And the bright entertaining Phantoms lov’d.


With Waller our firſt Dawn of Light aroſe,

He did the Beauties of the Morn diſcloſe:

Then Milton came, and Cowley bleſt our Eyes;

With Joy we ſaw the diſtant Glory riſe:

But there remain’d ſome Footſteps of the Night,

Dark Shadows ſtill were intermix’d with Light:

Thoſe Shades the mighty Dryden chas’d away,

And ſhew’d the Triumphs of refulgent Day:

Now all is clear, and all is bright,

Our C6r 27

Our Sun from his Meridian height

Darts kindly down reviving Rays

And one continu’d Splendor crowns our Days.


This Work, great Poet, was reſerv’d for thee,

None elſe cou’d us from our Confinement free:

By thee led on, we climb the ſacred Hill,

And our pleas’d Eyes with diſtant Proſpects fill:

View all th’ Acqueſts thy conqu’ring Pen has made,

Th’ immortal Trophies of thy Fame:

And ſee, as if we ſtood on Magick Ground,

Majeſtick Ghoſts with verdant Laurels crown’d:

Illuſtrious Heroes, ev’ry glorious Name,

That can a Place in ancient Records claim:

Among the reſt, thy Virgil’s awful Shade,

Whom thou haſt rais’d to bleſs our happy Land,

Does circl’d round with radiant Honours ſtand:

He’s now the welcom Native of our Iſle,

And crowns our Hopes with an auſpicious Smile;

With him we wander thro’ the Depths below,

And into Nature’s Cloſe Receſſes go;

View all the Secrets of th’infernal State,

And ſearch into the dark Intriegues of Fate:

Survey the Pleaſures of th’Elyſian Fields,

And ſee what Joys the higheſt Region yields.


What Thanks, thou gen’rous Man, can we repay,

What equal Retributions make,

For all thy Pains, and all thy Care,

And all thoſe Toils, whoſe kind Effects we ſhare?

Our C6v 28

Our Language like th’Augean Stable lay,

Rude and uncleans’d, till thou by Glory mov’d,

Th’ Herculean Task didſt undertake,

And haſt with Floods of Wit th’offenſive Heaps remov’d:

That ancient Rubbiſh of the Gothick Times,

When manly Senſe was loſt in trifling Rhimes:

Now th’unform’d Maſs is to Perfection wrought;

Thou haſt inlarg’d our Knowledge, and refin’d our Thought.

Long mayſt thou ſhine within our Britiſh Sphere,

And may not Age, nor Care,

The ſprightly Vigor of thy Mind impair:

Let Envy ceaſe, and all thy Merits own,

And let our due Regards in Praiſe be ever ſhown:

And when from hence thou ſhalt remove

To bleſs th’harmonious World above,

May thy ſtrong Genius on our Iſle deſcend,

And what it has inſpir’d, eternally defend.



Why Damon, why, why, why ſo preſſing?

The Heart you beg’s not worth poſſeſſing:

Each Look, each Word, each Smile’s affected,

And inward Charms are quite neglected:

Then ſcorn her, ſcorn her, foolish Swain,

And ſigh no more, no more in vain.

2. Beau- C7r 29


Beauty’s worthleſs, fading, flying;

Who would for Trifles think of dying?

Who for a Face, a Shape, wou’d languiſh,

And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguiſh,

Till ſhe, till ſhe thinks fit to prize him,

And all, and all beſide deſpiſe him?


Fix, fix you Thoughts on what’s inviting,

On what will never bear the ſlighting:

Wit and Virtue claim your Duty,

They’re much more worth than Gold and Beauty:

To them, to them, your Heart reſign,

And you’ll no more, no more repine.

To Eugenia.

Methinks I ſee the Golden Age agen,

Drawn to the Life by your ingenious Pen:

Then Kings were Shepherds, and with equal Care

’Twixt Men and Sheep, did their Concernments ſhare:

There was no need of Rods and Axes then,

Crooks rul’d the Sheep, and Virtue rul’d the Men:

Then Laws were uſeleſs, for they knew no Sin,

From Guilt ſecur’d by Innocence within:

No Paſſion but the nobleſt, fill’d each Breaſt,

They were too good to entertain the reſt:

Love, C7v 30

Love, which is now become an Art, a Trade,

It ſelf to them with all its Sweets convey’d;

Indulgent Nature their kind Tutreſs prov’d,

And as ſhe taught, without Deceit, they lov’d:

Thus did they live; thus they employ’d their Hours;

Beneath cool Shades, on Banks of fragrant Flow’rs,

They ſat and liſtn’d, while their Poets ſung

The Praiſes of the Brave, the Wiſe, the Young;

What e’er was Good, or Great, their Theme they made,

To Virtue ſtill a Veneration paid;

But Love did in each Song Precedence claim,

And in ſoft Numbers they made known their Flame:

Poets by Nature are to Love inclin’d;

To them, the Lover’s God was ever kind:

They ſtill obſerv’d his Laws, and all their Care

Was to win Fame, and to oblige the Fair:

But ah! dear Friend, thoſe happy Days are paſt;

Hard Fate! that only what is ill ſhould laſt!

Unhappy we! born in the Dregs of Time,

Can ne’er to their vaſt height of Virtue climb;

But lie immers’d in Vice, forſaken quite

Of thoſe pure Joys which did their Souls delight:

We live diſguis’d, nor can each other truſt,

But only ſeem obliging, kind and just,

To ſerve our low Deſigns; by Int’reſt ſway’d,

That pow’rful God by all Mankind obey’d!

Nor are thoſe Vices in the Town alone,

The Country too does with the Preſſure groan:

For Innocence (once our peculiar boaſt)

Is now with all her Train of Virtues loſt;

From hence to the divine Abodes retir’d

Here undeſerv’d, as well as undeſir’d:

Yet ſome imperfect Footſteps ſtill are ſeen,

That future Times may know they once have been:

But C8r 31

But oh! how few will tread that ſacred way;

By Vice, or Humor, moſt are led aſtray:

Thoſe few who dare be good, muſt live alone

To all Mankind, except themſelves, unknown:

From a mad World, to ſome obſcure Receſs,

They muſt retire, to purchaſe Happineſs:

Yet of this wretched Place ſo well you’ve writ,

That I admire your Goodneſs and your Wit,

And muſt confeſs your excellent Deſign

To make it with its native luſtre ſhine:

To hide its Faults, and to expoſe to view

Nought but its Beauties, is becoming you.


To Lerinda.

Ceaſe, Dear Lerinda, ceaſe admiring

Why Crouds and Noiſe I diſapprove;

What e’er I ſee abroad is tiring;

O let us to ſome Cell remove;

Where all alone our ſelves enjoying,

Enrich’d with Innocence and Peace,

On nobleſt Themes our Thoughts employing,

Let us our inward Joys increaſe:

And ſtill the happy Taſte purſuing,

Raiſe our Love and Friendſhip higher,

And thus the ſacred Flames renewing,

In Extaſies of Bliſs expire.

Song. C8v [ 32 ]



When Daphne firſt her Shepherd ſaw,

A ſudden Trembling ſeiz’d her;

Honour her wandring Looks did awe,

She durſt not view what pleas’d her.


When at her Feet he ſighing lay,

She found her Heart complying;

Yet wou’d not to her Love give way,

To ſave her Swain from dying.


The little God ſtood laughing by

To ſee her dextrous feigning;

He bid the bluſhing Fair comply,

The Shepherd leave complaining.

The Wiſh.

Would but indulgent Fortune ſend

To me a kind, and faithful Friend,

One who to Virtue’s Laws is true,

And does her niceſt Rules purſue;

One D1r 33

One Pious, Lib’ral, Juſt and Brave,

And to his Paſſions not a Slave;

Who full of Honour, void of Pride,

Will freely praiſe, and freely chide;

But not indulge the ſmalleſt Fault,

Nor entertain one ſlighting Thought:

Who ſtill the ſame will ever prove,

Will ſtill inſtruct, and ſtill will love:

In whom I ſafely may confide,

And with him all my Cares divide:

Who has a large capacious Mind,

Join’d with a Knowledge unconfin’d;

A Reaſon bright, a Judgment true,

A Wit both quick, and ſolid too:

Who can of all things talk with Eaſe,

And whoſe Converſe will ever pleaſe:

Who charm’d with Wit, and inward Graces,

Deſpiſes Fools with tempting Faces;

And ſtill a beauteous Mind does prize

Above the moſt enchanting Eyes:

I would not envy Queens their State,

Nor once deſire a happier Fate.

The Elevation.


O How ambitious is my Soul,

How high ſhe now aſpires!

There’s nothing can on Earth controul,

Or limit her Deſires.

D 2. Upon D1v 34


Upon the Wings of Thought ſhe flies

Above the reach of Sight,

And finds a way thro’ pathleſs Skies

To everlaſting Light:


From whence with blameleſs Scorn ſhe views

The Follies of mankind;

And ſmiles to ſee how each purſues

Joys fleeting as the Wind.


Yonder’s the little Ball of Earth,

It leſſens as I riſe;

That Stage of tranſitory Mirth,

Of laſting Miſeries:


My Scorn does into Pity turn,

And I lament the Fate

Of Souls, that ſtill in Bodies mourn,

For Faults which they create:


Souls without Spot, till Fleſh they wear,

Which their pure Subſtance ſtains:

While thy th’uneaſie Burthen bear,

They’re never free from Pains.

Friend- D2r [ 35 ]


Friendship is a Bliſs Divine,

And does with radiant Luſtre ſhine:

But where can that bleſt Pair be found

That are with equal Fetters bound?

Whoſe Hearts are one, whoſe Souls combine,

And neither know Mine, or Thine;

Who’ve but one Joy, one Grief, one Love,

And by the ſelf ſame Dictates move;

Who’ve not a Frailty unreveal’d,

Nor yet a Thought that is conceal’d;

Who freely one another blame,

And ſtrive to raiſe each other’s Fame;

Who’re always juſt, ſincere, and kind,

By Virtue, not by Wealth, combin’d;

Whoſe Friendship nothing can abate,

Nor Poverty, nor adverſe Fate,

Nor Death it ſelf: for when above,

They’ll never, never, ceaſe to love,

But with a Paſſion more refin’d,

Become one pure celeſtial Mind.

The Happy Man.

He is the happy Man whoſe conſtant Mind

Is to th’ Enjoyment of himſelf confin’d:

Who has within laid up a plenteous Store,

And is ſo rich that he deſires no more:

D2 Whoſe D2v 36

Whoſe Soul is always eaſie, firm, and brave,

And much too great to be Ambition’s Slave:

Who Fortune’s Frowns without Concern can bear,

And thinks it leſs to ſuffer, than to fear:

Who, ſtill the ſame, keeps up his native State,

Unmov’d at all the Menaces of Fate:

Who all his Paſſions abſolutely ſways,

And to his Reaſon cheerful Homage pays,

Who’s with a Halcyon Calmneſs ever bleſt,

With inward Joy, untroubl’d Peace, and Reſt:

Who while the Moſt with Toil, with Guilt, and Heat,

Loſe their dear Quiet to be Rich and Great,

Both Buſineſs, and diſturbing Crouds does ſhun,

Pleas’d that his work is with leſs Trouble done:

To whom a Grove, a Garden, or a Field,

Much greater, much ſublimer Pleaſures yield,

Than they can find in all the Charms of Pow’r,

Thoſe ſplendid Ills which ſo much Time devour:

Who more than Life, his Friends and Books can prize,

And for thoſe Joys the noiſie world deſpiſe:

Who when Death calls, no Weakneſs does betray,

Nor to an unbecoming Fear give way;

But to himſelf, and to his Maxims true,

Lies ſmiling down, and bids Mankind adieu.

A Dia- D3r [ 37 ]

A Dialogue between Alexis and Aſtrea.


Come, fair Astrea, let us for a while

Beneath this pleaſant Shade our Cares beguile:

In kind Diſcourſes let us paſs away

The tireſom Heat, and Troubles of the Day:

The Gods no greater Bleſſing can beſtow

Than mutual Love, ’tis all our Bliſs below.


But Men, falſe Men, take Pleaſure to deceive,

And laugh, when we their Perjuries believe;

Their Languiſhments, and all their other Arts,

Their Sighs, and Vows, are only Snares for Hearts.


Think not, unjuſt Aſtrea, all are ſo,

Alexis will a deathleſs Paſſion ſhow.

May the ſevereſt of all Plagues, your Hate,

And all the Rigors of an angry Fate,

With all thoſe Curſes that to Guilt are due,

Fall on my Head, when I am falſe to you.

A Love like mine, can no decreaſe admit;

A Love, inſpir’d by Virtue, and by Wit,

Like its immortal Cauſe, will ever laſt,

And be the ſame, when Youth, and Beauty’s paſt:

Nor need Astrea bluſh to own my Flame,

Or think ’twill prove a Blemiſh to her Fame,

Since ’tis as pure, as Spotleſs as her Mind,

Bright as her Eyes, from all its Droſs refin’d.

D3 Aſtrea. D3v 38


When Humors are alike, and Souls agree,

How ſweet! how pleaſant muſt that Union be!

But oh! that Bliſs is but by few poſſeſt,

But few are with the Joys of Friendſhip bleſt.

Marriage is but a fatal Lott’ry made,

Where ſome are Gainers, but the moſt betray’d:

The mild and froward, cruel and the kind,

Are in unequal Chains by Fate confin’d:

Moſt are a Sacrifice to Intereſt made,

Intereſt, and Gold, now more than Love perſuade:

To conqu’ring Gold, the moſt themſelves ſubmit,

That has more Charms, than Beauty, Youth, or Wit:

Unhappy they! whom Riches thus unite,

Whom Wealth does to the ſacred Band invite:

The languid Paſſion quickly will expire,

Wealth can ne’er keep alive the dying Fire:

Virtue the Hymenæan Torch ſhou’d light,

’Tis that alone preſerves its Luſtre bright:

The Rich and Great let the vain World admire,

Neither their Gold, nor Grandeur, I deſire;

Virtue, and Love, to me’s a great Eſtate,

I wiſh no more, but leave the reſt to Fate.


Let Kings for Empire, and Crowns contend,

Let them their Arms to diſtant Realms extend:

I envy none, no not the Pow’rs above,

I’ve all I covet in Aſtrea’s Love.


How bleſt are we! nothing our Hearts can ſever,

Not Death it ſelf, we’ll love, we’ll love for ever.


But we muſt part; hard Fate will have it ſo,

Alexis muſt from his Aſtrea go.

Yes, D4r 39

Yes, we muſt part; O th’afflicting Sound!

It ſhakes my Breaſt, my very Soul does wound.

Is there no way, this Miſery to ſhun,

Ye cruel Gods! what has Alexis done

To merit this ſevere, this rig’rous Fate?

Had you no way, but this, to ſhew your Hate?


Ceaſe theſe GComplaints;

while you poſſeſs my Heart,

While there you live, can we be ſaid to part?

Our Thoughts ſhall meet, they ne’er can be confin’d,

We’ll ſtill be preſent to each other’s Mind:

I’ll view you with my intellectual Sight,

And in th’indearing Object take Delight:

My faithful Mem’ry ſhall your Vows retain,

And in my Breaſt you ſhall unrival’d reign.


And your dear Image ſhall my Solace prove,

On that I’ll gaze, to that I’ll ſigh my Love:

To that a thouſand tender things I’ll ſay,

And fancy that does ev’ry Sigh repay:

Each word approves by an obliging Smile,

As if it kindly wou’d my Griefs beguile:

Thus, will I languiſh out the tedious Day,

Thus, will I paſs my ſaddeſt Hours.away.


What tho’ by Fate our Bodies are confin’d,

Nought can obſtruſt the Journies of the Mind:

A virtuous Paſſion will at diſtance live,

Abſence to that will a new Vigor give,

Which ſtill increaſes, and grows more intenſe,

The farther ’tis remov’d from the mean Joys of Senſe.

D4 To D4v [ 40 ]

To the Ladies.

Wife and Servant are the ſame,

But only differ in the Name:

For when that fatal Knot is ty’d,

Which nothing, nothing can divide:

When ſhe the word obey has ſaid,

And Man by Law ſupreme has made,

Then all that’s kind is laid aſide,

And nothing left but State and Pride:

Fierce as an Eaſtern Prince he grows,

And all his innate Rigor ſhows:

Then but to look, to laugh, or ſpeak,

Will the Nuptial Contract break.

Like Mutes ſhe Signs alone muſt make,

And never any Freedom take:

But ſtill be govern’d by a Nod,

And fear her Husband as her God:

Him ſtill muſt ſerve, him ſtill obey,

And nothing act, and nothing ſay,

But what her haughty Lord thinks fit,

Who with the Pow’r, has all the Wit.

Then ſhun, oh! ſhun that wretched State,

And all the fawning Flatt’rers hate:

Value your ſelves, and Men deſpiſe,

You muſt be proud, if you’ll be wiſe.

To D5r [ 41 ]

To the Queen’s moſt Excellent Majesty.



Permit me at Your Royal Feet to lay

This humble Off’ring of a trembling Muſe;

Permit me there to pay

This Tribute to tranſcendent Merit due;

To that tranſcendent Merit which conſpicuous is in You.

Bold is th’Addreſs, and the Preſumption high!

But ſhe all meaner Objects does refuſe,

To this vaſt height will fly,

And hopes Your Goodneſs will th’ambitious Flight excuſe.

I ſtrove a while her Ardor to conceal,

Unſeen it burnt within my Breaſt;

But now impetuous grows, and will it ſelf reveal;

’Tis much too ſtrong to be ſuppreſt.

What was at firſt but Warmth, now to a Flame do’s riſe,

On you ſhe gazes with admiring Eyes,

And ev’ry lower Object does deſpiſe:

Pardon her Tranſports, ſince from Zeal they ſpring,

And give her Leave of You to ſing;

Of You, the nobleſt Theme that ſhe can chuſe,

Of You, who’re with Ten thouſand Graces fraught,

Of You, who far exceed the wideſt Bounds of Thought:

In whom as to their Centre Lines are drawn,

All D5v 42

All thoſe bright Qualities in one combine,

Which did till now with ſcatter’d Glory ſhine;

Appear’d till now but in their Dawn:

You’re the Meridian Splendor of Your Line;

And on Your Sex entail a laſting Fame:

We ſhall be ever proud of Your illuſtrious Name.


Long may You reign, long fill the British Throne,

And make the haughty Gallick Foe our Engliſh Valor own:

Aſſert the Rights of Your Imperial Crown;

And vie with ancient Heroes for Renown:

Tread in his Steps whom Fate has ſnatch’d away,

Like him the Terror of Your Arms diſplay;

But longer, longer much Your happy Subjects ſway,

His mighty Acts cou’d not the Victor ſave,

Thoſe Conqueſts he had gain’d

Cou’d not preſerve his Life:

Death to his vaſt Deſigns a Period gave,

Sent him amidſt his Triumphs to the Grave:

For You he fought, for You he Wreaths obtain’d,

For You he ſtrove to humble France:

For You has been the Toil, for You the Strife,

For You the Battels he has won,

The wondrous things which he has done:

To him there nothing now remains,

But empty Fame, that mean Reward for all his Pains.

Heav’n brought him here Your Grandeur to advance,

That was the kind Deſign of Fate,

And took him hence when he had aggrandiz’d Your State.

To You he all his Trophies yields,

To D6r 43

To You the duſty Honours of the bloody Fields:

He at Your Feet lays all his Lawrels down.

And adds his great Atchievements to the Glories of Your Crown.


If Poets may to Propheſie pretend,

If they’re allow’d to pry,

Into the hidden Secrets of Futurity,

They dare preſage, You will Your Pow’r extend,

And ſpite of Salic Laws, the Gallick throne aſcend:

For You that noble Task’s aſſign’d,

’Tis You are born Mankind to free,

From arbitrary Sway, and hateful Tyranny:

You, none but You, are for that Work deſign’d;

We no where cou’d a fitter Champion find:

Go on great Heroin, and exalt Your Name,

Go fearleſs on in the bright Tracks of Fame:

When Beauty leads, and Virtue ſhows the Way,

The Men will ſoon with joyful haſt obey,

None then will ſhew a greater Zeal than they:

They for Your Service with a noble Pride

Will all Your Enemies defie,

Will all their Vain Efforts deride,

And ſtrive who firſt for You ſhall die;

Who firſt th’ ambition’d Honour have,

Who firſt lie down in the conteſted Grave.


Where You reſide, may Pleaſures ſtill abound,

May blooming Joys diſperſe themſelves around,

And may there nothing there but ſoft Delights be found:

Still D6v 44

Still may Your Subjects make Your Bliſs their Care,

Contending Parties in Your Cauſe unite:

No more within our Britiſh Sphere

May threatning Clouds appear,

Or deafning Storms affright,

But all be calm, and all be bright;

Bright as thoſe virtues which adorn Your Mind,

Thoſe Virtues, which we no where elſe can in Perfection find.

May Heav’n indulgent to Your Wiſhes prove,

And make You ſtill chief Object of its Love:

Bleſs You with all the Favours it can give,

And let You in a num’rous Off-ſpring live;

An Off-ſpring worthy of Your Princely Line,

Great as Your Merit, like Your ſelf Divine.


My pious Pray’rs have quick Acceptance found,

Propitious Omens Heaven is pleas’d to ſend,

Pleas’d Nature does this glorious Change approve;

On You ſhe ſeems t’attend

Commiſſion’d from Above:

Each Hour of Your auſpicious Reign,

Has been with wondrous Bleſſings crown’d;

The Sun reſtores his Heat again,

Again reſtores reviving Rays,

Again we’re bleſt with radiant Days:

No noxious Vapors now dare riſe,

No Streams of Earth pollute the Skies,

Back to their gloomy Source each darkning Atom flies:

A balmy Sweetneſs fills the Air,

Health and Pleaſure revel there;

The Flow’rs riſe beauteous from the Ground,

And D7r 45

And ſpread their fragrant Odors round;

The Trees prepare

Their verdant Crowns to wear;

Amidſt their Boughs ſoft Zephyrs play;

And in low whiſp’ring Murmurs their glad Homage pay:

The warbling Birds reſound Your Praiſe,

And welcom You with cheerful Lays:

Joy does in every Face appear,

In ev’ry Face is ſeen to ſmile;

A Joy till now to us unknown,

A Joy which You cou’d give alone;

You to Your Subjects are more dear,

To us the happy Natives of this Iſle,

Than Life, and all the Pleaſures we poſſeſs below,

All, all the gay Delights Your Albion can beſtow,

Which rich in You, and Your immortal Fame,

The Title now of Fortunate may claim,

And juſtly be allow’d to glory in ſo great a Name.

The Reſolution.

Yes, dear Philiſtris, in my lov’d Retreat

I will the Malice of my Stars defeat:

I’ve not deſerv’d my Fate, and therefore dare

To brave my Fortune when ’tis moſt ſevere:

While Innocence and Honour guard my Breaſt,

I ſhall in ſpite of my worſt Foes be bleſt:

In ſpite of all the Rage the Furies can inſpire,

When into mortal Breaſts they breath infernal Fire,

With Eyes that dart malignant Horrors round,

And D7v 46

And Voices which affright with their tremendous Sound,

They fiercely may the cruel Fight begin,

And hope by Violence the Day to win;

But all in vain; I’ll ſmiling ward each Blow,

And where my Duty calls undaunted go:

Secure within, their Shock I dare ſuſtain,

My Souls impaſſive, and can feel no Pain:

I’ve ſecret Joys, Delights to them unknown,

In Solitude I never am alone:

Books are the beſt Companions I can find,

At once they pleaſe, at once inſtruct the Mind.

Fam’d Rocheſter, who Athen’s Plague has writ

With all the Charms of Poetry and Wit,

Does Honour on his ſacred See beſtow;

At once its Glory, and its Bleſſing too:

Him I with Pleaſure read, each well weigh’d Line,

Delights my Soul, his Thoughts are all Divine.

With awful Fear on Stillingfleet I gaze,

His wondrous Knowledge and deep Senſe my raviſh’d Soul amaze:

Smooth Tillotſon affords no leſs Delight,

None ever did with more Exactneſs write,

Or with more Clearneſs each dark Text unfold,

He ſacred Truths intelligibly told:

Strong are his Reaſons, and his Language fine,

And like his Subjects, ev’ry where Divine;

Much the learn’d Sarum’s pompous Stile do’s pleaſe,

His Thoughts, tho’ lofty, are expreſs’d with Eaſe:

What e’er he writes ſo captivates the Mind,

We there the Strength of pow’rful Reaſon find:

See D8r 47

See human Nature to its Zenith rais’d,

And Virtue with a winning Sweetneſs prais’d;

So charming made, and ſo majeſtick too,

We’re forc’d to Love, what awfully we view:

Thou wondrous Man! who can enough admire

The amazing Force of that celeſtial Fire,

Which thro’ each Line do’s ſacred Warmth inſpire?

To darkeſt Minds clear dazling Light convey,

Refulgent Beams of intellectual Day!

Th’ingenious Norris in a flowing Strain,

With various Scenes of Wit do’s entertain;

Sometimes in Proſe he ſweetly do’s invite,

And then in Verſe takes an unbounded Flight:

Plato reviv’d, we in his Writings find,

His Sentiments are there, but more refin’d.

’Twould be too tedious if I all ſhould name,

Who have a juſt, unqueſtion’d Right to Fame.

O happy Albion! in thy Clergy bleſt,

In Sons that are of ev’ry Grace poſſeſt!

May they increaſe, and like aſcending Light

Chaſe hence thoſe Spectres that are pleas’d with Night,

Nor can endure a Glory ſo divinely bright:

Thoſe reſtleſs Troublers of the Churches Peace;

May their Attacks, and their Reproaches ceaſe;

While ſhe ſupported by Almighty Love,

Securely on the wat’ry Deep do’s move;

In ſacred Pomp on ſwelling Surges riſe,

And all the Monſters of the Main deſpiſe.

Philoſophers next theſe, are my Delight;

O let me learn from them to think aright:

Con- D8v 48

Contending Paſſions timely to reſtrain,

And o’er my ſelf a happy Conqueſt gain:

To ſtand unalter’d at the Turns of Fate,

And undejected in the worſt Eſtate.

With Secret Pleaſure I the Lives ſurvey

Of thoſe great Men who Virtue did obey,

And went unweary’d on in her ſteep painful Way;

Their bright Examples fortifie my Mind,

And I within both Strength and Calmneſs find:

When I am wrong’d, or treated with Neglect,

I on the patient Socrates reflect;

That virtuous Man, who was ſeverely try’d,

Who injur’d liv’d, and much more injur’d dy’d:

Methinks I ſee him laugh’d at on the Stage,

And made Victim to the Poets Rage;

Expos’d, and ridicul’d, while he ſits by,

And calmly bears their ſpiteful Calumny:

In him none coul’d the leaſt Emotion find,

He bore Reproaches with a conſtant Mind,

And bravely met that Fate, which Fate for him deſign’d;

That Fate, which he perſuaded was to ſhun;

But he reſolv’d to keep the Glory he had won:

His Fame, to him than Life, was much more dear,

And Death was what he ne’er had learnt to fear:

Brave to the laſt, and to his Virtue true,

Without Concern he bid his Friends adieu,

And with a free, untroubl’d, cheerful Air,

Did for another, better State prepare,

And ſmiling drank the welcome Cure of all his Care:

That happy Draught, that Balm for all his Grief,

His beſt, his laſt, his only ſure Relief.

O who E1r 49

O who wou’d live, that with ſuch eaſe could go

From this vile World, this diſmal Scene of Woe,

Where moſt are falſe, and no Compaſſion ſhow,

Where our Misfortunes but a Jeſt are made,

Where by pretended Friends we’re moſt betray’d:

Where Men are to their Int’reſt wholly ty’d,

Slaves to their glitt’ring Gold, and to their Pride,

And where Ambition, and Self-love as ſovereign Lords preſide:

Where Kindneſs only do’s to Words extend,

And few are truly that which they pretend,

And where the greateſt Prodigy’s a Friend.

Thrice happy Times when Riches were deſpis’d,

And Men for innate Worth were only priz’d:

When none to Titles their reſpect did pay,

Nor were to Bribes a mercenary Prey:

When all to rural Cares their Thoughts did bend,

And on their harmleſs Flocks with Peace atttend;

When underneath ſome cool delightful Shade,

They to their Nymphs their artleſs Courtſhip made,

And were with kindeſt Vows, and unfeign’d Truth repaid:

When Conſtancy their higheſt Boaſt became,

And Friend was held the moſt endearing Name;

When nothing ill was harbour’d in the Mind,

But all were pious, gen’rous, juſt and kind.

But that bleſt Age, alas! was quickly paſt,

What’s eminently good can never laſt:

Short was the peaceful Saturn’s Golden Reign:

But oh! this Iron Age do’s ſtill remain.

E Betimes E1v 50

Betimes the Vicious their Inſults began,

And fatal was Integrity to Man:

The virtuous ſtill to Hardſhips were inur’d,

And ſtill the Drudgeries of Fate indur’d:

Saw Fools admir’d, and wealthy Fops careſt,

And Rebels with Imperial Purple dreſt:

Knaves made the Props of an unthinking State,

When Truth and Juſtice ſhou’d ſupport the Weight:

Ill Men ador’d, and praisd’d above the Skies,

While at their Feet neglected Merit lies,

And Regulus amidſt his Tortures dies:

An Ariſtides from his Athens ſent,

From his ungrateful Town to Baniſhment:

A Cato bleeding in the nobleſt Cauſe,

A Victim to his Honour, and the Laws:

He reads with Pleaſure of th’immortal State,

And then with haſt anticipates his Fate;

With the ſame Courage he for Rome had fought,

He for his Soul a welcom Paſſage ſought.

A Petus ſtrugling with a Tyrant’s Rage,

A ſuff’ring Arria, Wonder of her Age!

The beſt of Wives, the kindeſt, trueſt Friend;

Her Spouſe in all his Troubles did attend:

His Grief was hers, and ſo was all his Care;

Well pleas’d ſhe was with him the worſt of Ills to ſhare.

When he was doom’d by his own Hand to die,

She beg’d him with the Sentence to comply;

Told him a wretched Life deſerv’d no Care,

And that a Roman never ought to fear:

Bid E2r 51

Bid him remember with what noble Pride

The valiant Curtius, and the Decii dy’d;

And how th’immortal Brutus Death’s grieſly Form defy’d:

But when ſhe ſaw her Reaſons could not move,

She gave a vaſt, a woundrous Proof of Love:

With haſt ſhe ſnatch’d his Poniard from his Side,

And with her deareſt Blood the fatal Weapon dy’d;

Then drawing it undaunted from her Breaſt,

And with a Look that no Concern expreſt,

She ſmiling gave it to his trembling Hand,

And ſaid, O Petus, thus, thy Fate command:

Thus, Cæſar’s Malice, and thy Stars defie;

Believe me, ’tis not difficult to die.

She ſaid no more; he ſighing clos’d her Eyes,

And taught by her, with conſcious Bluſhes dies;

Aſham’d to think for ſuch a noble Deed

He ſhou’d th’ Example of a Woman need.

An Epictetus in a Nero’s Court,

The beſt of Men, a Slave, and Fortune’s Sport.

A Beliſarius, blind, deſpis’d, and poor,

Seeking precarious Alms from Door, to Door;

And meanly ſtriving to prolong his Breath,

To ſave a Life more to be fear’d, than Death:

While Earth-born Monſters, a degen’rous Race,

Riſe from their Slime, and fill the heav’nly Space;

Where, for a while, like Meteors they amaze,

And fright the World with their portentous Blaze;

Till having waſted all their Stock of Light,

They fall unpity’d from their tow’ring Hight,

And lie deſpis’d in the dark Shades of Night.

E2 Thus E2v 52

Thus Hiſt’ry Shews the World in its rude Infant State,

And does the Progreſs of Mankind relate;

By what ſlow Steps they firſt to Greatneſs roſe;

Does all their Arts, their Policies diſcloſe:

There, I behold th’ Aſſyrian Empire riſe,

And Babel’s lofty Tow’rs inſult the Skies:

See mighty Cyrus all their Hopes defeat,

And place himſelf in the Imperial seat:

From whence I ſee the great Darius fall,

And the Pellean Youth poſeſeſt of all:

Him, full of Glory, full of God-like Fire

I ſee amidſt adoring Crouds expire:

Young Ammon all his boaſted Conqueſts quit,

And early to the Laws of Fate ſubmit:

He, whoſe Ambition towr’d above the Skies,

Now with a Spot of Earth ſcarce cover’d lies;

And in a dark, a narrow, ſilent Grave,

Sleeps undiſtingusiſh’d from his meaneſt Slave.

I next obſerve the Weſtern Empire riſe,

The Roman Eagles wanton in the Skies:

Thoſe Birds of Jove clap their extended Wings,

While with the clattering Sound the wide Expanſum rings:

See Royal Shepherds an Uſurper chaſe,

And on his Throne their injur’d Grandſire place;

With happy Omens the Foundations lay

Of that great City which the World muſt ſway:

See Rome’s raſh Builder, the Derider kill,

And a dear Brother’s Blood relentleſs ſpill.

O what E3r 53

O what is Man, if by his Paſſion led!

Lions and Tigers with leſs cauſe we dread:

They much the gentler, much the kinder prove,

Whom nothing can againſt their Species move:

But Men each other’s Ruin ſtill deſign,

They break thro’ all the Ties, the Laws Divine:

Nor Blood, nor Friendſhip, can their Rage reſtrain,

Intreaties all are loſt, and Tears are ſhed in vain:

Slaves to their Will, they ev’ry Vice obey,

And on their Actions no Reſtriction lay.

This fatal Truth the ſad Lucretia found;

Methinks in Tears I ſee her almoſt drown’d;

Confus’d ſhe ſits among her grieving Friends,

While each to her diſtreſsful Tale attends:

Trembling and Pale, with Sighs, and downcaſt Eyes,

The moving Rhetorick of her Sorrow tries:

And then by her own Hand with wondrous Corrage dies.

Pride of they Sex! thy Glory ſtill ſhall live,

To thee we will our loudeſt Plaudits give:

My Muſe with Joy ſhall celebrate thy Fame,

And make the Groves reſound with thy immortal Name.

Th’ amaz’d Beholders view the breathleſs Fair,

And for a juſt, a quick Revenge prepare:

The proud Tarquinius with his guilty Race

They from his undeſerv’d Dominions chaſe:

Govern’d by Conſuls then, with Freedom bleſt,

And of the nobleſt Parts of Earth poſſeſt,

Rome long enjoy’d the Glories ſhe had won;

But was inthrall’d at length by her victorious Son,

E3 To E3v 54

To his ſuperior Fortune ſhe gave way,

But did not long his Tyranny obey:

The Roman Soul exerts it ſelf once more,

T’aſſert loſt Rights, and Liberty reſtore;

The mighty Cæſar to their Rage did yield,

Nor could the Goddeſs her lov’d Off-ſpring ſhield.

See, full of Wounds, the Hero gaſping lies,

And fiercely rolling his Majeſtick Eyes,

Seems to call Vengeance from his Kindred Skies.

How vain is Greatneſs, and how frail is Pow’r!

Thoſe who above their Fellow Mortals tow’r,

Who with a Word can ſave, or with a Word deſtroy,

Can’t to themſelves inſure one Moment’s Joy:

But ſoon may tumble from their ſlippery State,

And feel the Preſſures of an adverſe Fate.

Sure for our ſelves if we our Terms could make,

We ſhould not Life on ſuch Conditions take;

Life, which ſubjects us to Ten thouſand Ills,

And ev’ry Minute with new Trouble fills:

By which to Fortune we’re ſtill Captives made,

And to the worſt of Tyrannies betray’d;

Captives to her, who makes Mankind her Sport,

Who ſlights the beſt, and does the baſeſt court;

Who low with Earth the mighty Pompeys lays,

And from the Duſt does Aniello’s raise.

When ſuch Reflections, ſuch ſad Thoughts as theſe

On my dejected Soul begin to ſeize,

To pleaſant Studies I my ſelf apply,

And feaſt upon the Sweets of Poetry;

Thoſe E4r 55

Thoſe luſcious Banquets which the Mind invite,

Where all is to be found that can delight.

Sometimes in Homer I the Grecians view,

See, what the King, and injur’d Husband do;

See, tow’ring Ilium compaſs’d round with Foes,

And for her ſake her Sons their Lives expoſe;

Her valiant Sons, who prodigal of Blood,

Long in Defence of their lov’d Country ſtood:

See, from their Seats ſuperior Pow’rs deſcend,

And on the Phrygians and the Greeks attend,

And with indecent warmth among themſelves contend.

View fierce Achilles full of Grief and Rage,

Victorious Hector with redoubl’d Strength engage:

Revenge to ev’ry Blow new Force does give;

The Hopes of Ilium muſt no longer live:

Fate ſigns his Doom; the Godlike Hero falls,

And thrice his Body’s drag’d around the Trojan Walls:

The Cyprian Goddeſs mourns her Favourite ſlain,

And loud Laments fill all the Idalian Plain.

The wiſe Ulyſſes does my Wonder raiſe,

Who can enough his prudent Conduct praiſe?

With his ill Fortune he did long conteſt,

And was not with the ſight of his lov’d Princeſs bleſt:

The Royal Mourner for his Abſence wept,

And from her Heart intruding Princes kept;

In vain they ſigh’d, in vain Addreſſes made,

They cou’d not by their utmoſt Arts perſuade:

To her firſt Vows ſhe ſtill did conſtant prove,

Doubly ſecur’d by Honour, and by Love.

E4 The E4v 56

The Prince of Lyricks, full of heav’nly Fire,

Well pleas’d I read, and as I read, admire;

Of Gods and Heroes, and of God-like Kings,

He with unequal’d Strength, and Sweetneſs ſings:

Sometimes his Muſe flies near, and keeps in Sight,

Then on a ſudden takes a towring Flight,

And ſoars as high as the bright Realms of Light.

The help of mean and ſervile Art diſdains,

While in each charming Line luxuriant Nature reigns:

His pregnant Fancy from its Boundleſs Store,

Selects the richeſt, and the nobleſt Oar,

Which his unerring Judgment ſo refines,

That thro’ the whole a pleaſing Luſtre ſhines;

Virtue’s the darling Subject of his Lays,

In ev’ry Ode he Piety diſplays,

And to the Gods due Veneration pays.

Great was the Pow’r of his immortal Song,

That could his Fame in ancient Greece prolong:

Twice ſave his Houſe, when Thebes was made a Prey

Untouch’d that ſtood, while Thebes in Aſhes lay.

The Force of Numbers warlike Sparta knew,

For her what Wonders did Tyrtæus do!

He ſung the Glories which on Fame attend;

And Honour gain’d by thoſe who ſhall the State defend:

Who full of Courage, full of Heat Divine,

No Hazards for their Gods, and Laws, decline;

Who fear not Death, when the Reward is Praiſe,

That bleſt Exchange for all their coming Days:

The E5r 57

The liſtning Soldiers with freſh Ardor fir’d;

As if they were by Mars himſelf inſpir’d,

With furious Tranſports to the Field repair’d,

And met thoſe Dangers, which before they fear’d:

Nothing Meſſene from their Rage could ſhield,

She to her former Lord was forc’d to yield:

She who to Martial Pow’r would not ſubmit,

Was made a Prey to all-commanding Wit.

Theocritus in ſoft harmonious Strains,

Deſcribes the Joys of the Sicilian Swains,

When with their Flocks they grace the flow’ry Plains,

And on their Pipes to liſtning Beauties play,

Who with their kind Regards the lov’d Muſicians pay:

He, Nature in her native Plainneſs drew,

He, who the Springs of tender’ſt Paſſions knew,

Did Love in all its Infant Graces ſhew;

Love, unacquainted with deceitful Arts,

And only aiming at Exchange of Hearts.

Lucretius with his Philoſophick Strains,

My Mind at once delights, and entertains:

Thro’ Paths untrod, I ſee him fearleſs go;

His Steps I tread, with eager haſt to know:

With him explore the boundleſs Realms of Chance,

And ſee the little buſie Atoms dance:

See, how without Direction they combine,

And form a Univerſe without Deſign,

While careleſs Deities ſupremely bleſt,

Enjoy the Pleaſures of eternal Reſt,

Reſolv’d that nothing here their Quiet ſhall moleſt.

Strange E5v 58

Strange that a Man of ſuch a Strength of Thought,

Could think a World was to Perfection brought

Without Aſſiſtance from the Pow’rs above,

From the bleſt Source of Wiſdom, and of Love!

All frightful Thoughts he from my Soul does chaſe,

And in their room glad, bright Ideas place:

Tells me that Happineſs in Virtue lies,

And bids me Death, that dreaded Ill, deſpiſe:

That Phantom, which if we but judg’d aright,

Would never once diſturb, not once affright;

The ſhocking Proſpect of a future State,

Does in our Souls an anxious Fear create;

That unknown Somewhere which we muſt explore,

That ſtrange, that diſtant, undiſcover’d Shore,

Where we muſt land, makes us the Paſſage dread:

But were we by inlightned Reaſon led,

Were falſe Opinions baniſh’d from the Mind,

And we to the ſtrict Search of Truth inclin’d,

We ſure ſhou’d meet it with as much Delight

As the cool Pleaſures of a ſilent Night,

And to our Graves with Cheerfulneſs ſhould run,

Pleas’d that our tedious Task of Life were done.

Virgil with ſacred Raptures fills my Mind,

In him I unexhauſted Treaſures find:

While he my raviſh’d Soul does entertain,

Malice and Rage employ their Shafts in vain:

Easie and pleas’d, by him I’m led along,

And hear the wiſe Silenus’s charming Song:

Among his Nymphs and Swains with Pleaſure live,

And to their Muſick glad Attention give:

Then hear his Shepherds for ſome Prize contend,

And ſee his Husbandmen their much lov’d Toil attend:

Next E6r 59

Next with him to the burning Ilium go,

Where he diſplays Ten thouſand Scenes of Woe:

Amidſt the Flames the pious Prince I View,

Fearleſs, unmov’d, his great Deſigns purſue:

Like great Alcides he with Toil and Pain,

To th’utmoſt Height of Glory did attain,

And unrelenting Juno’s Hate ſuſtain;

A due Reward at length his Virtue found,

And he with Glory and with Love was crown’d.

Horace is full of Wit, and full of Art,

My Mind he pleaſes, and inflames my Heart,

And fills my Breaſt with his Poetick Fire:

O that he cou’d his wondrous Heat inſpire:

But mine’s a pale, a languid, feeble Flame,

Wholly unworthy ſuch a Poet’s Name:

My humble Muſe her Eyes can only raiſe,

Pleas’d that ſhe has the Liberty to her Gaze,

And Leave to offer up the Tribute of her Praiſe.

When by ſoft moving Ovid I am told,

Of thoſe ſtrange Changes which were wrought of old,

When Gods in Brutal Shapes did Mortals court,

And unbecoming Actions made their Sport,

When helpleſs Wretches fled from impious Pow’rs,

And hid themſelves in Birds, Beaſts, Trees, and Flow’rs:

When none from Outrage cou’d ſecurely dwell,

But felt the Rage of Heav’n, of Earth, and Hell:

Methinks, I ſee thoſe Paſſions well expreſt,

Which play the Tyrant in the Mortal Breaſt:

They to Ten thouſand Miſeries expoſe,

And are our only, and our deadly Foes:

They E6v 60

They like the Vultur on our Entrails prey,

And in our Path the Golden Apple lay,

But from us ſnatch our dear Euridices away.

Up the ſteep Hill the pond’rous Torment roll,

And cheat with empty Shews the famiſh’d Soul:

Thoſe who are ſtill ſubmitted to their Sway,

Muſt in the gloomy Realms of Pluto ſtay,

And never more re-viſit cheerful Day:

But thoſe who’re from their earthly Droſs calcin’d,

Who taſt the Pleaſures of a virtuous Mind,

Who’d rather chuſe to die, than once their Conſcience ſtain,

Who midſt Temptations Innocence retain,

And o’er themſelves an undiſputed Empire gain:

In th’Elyſian Fields ſhall be for ever bleſt,

And with the Happy, there enjoy the Sweets of Reſt.

How well does he expreſs unhappy Love!

Each Page does melt, and ev’ry Line does move.

The fair Oenone does ſo well complain,

That I can’t chuſe but blame her faithleſs Swain:

Good Hypermneſtra much laments her Fate,

Forſaken Phyllis her deplor’d Eſtate;

Her abſent Lord ſad Laodamia mourns,

And Sappho for her perjur’d Phaon burns:

O wondrous Woman! Prodigy of Wit!

Why didſt thou Man to thy fond Heart admit?

Man, treacherous Man, who ſtill a Riddle proves,

And by the Dictates of his Fancy moves,

Whoſe Looks are Snares, and ev’ry Word a Bait,

And who’s compos’d of nothing but Deceit?

What Pity ’twas thou ſhouldſt to Love give way,

To Love, to vicious Love, become a Prey,

And E7r 61

And by a guilty, inauſpicious Flame,

Eclipſe the Splendor of ſo bright a Name.

On Juvenal I look with great Delight,

Both he and Perſius with much Keeneſs write,

They gravely teach, as well as ſharply bite.

Think not that to th’ancient Bards I am alone confin’d,

They pleaſe, but never ſhall ingroſs my Mind;

In modern Writers I can Beauties find.

Phœbus has been propitious to this Iſle,

And on our Poets ſtill is pleas’d to Smile.

Milton was warn’d by his enliv’ning Fire,

Who Denham, Waller, Cowley did inſpire,

Roſcommon too, whom the learn’d World admire:

The tuneful Dryden felt his hotteſt Rays,

And long with Honour wore his freſheſt Bays:

The Arts, the Muſes, and the Graces try

To raiſe his Name, and lift him to the Skie,

And bleſs him with a Fame that ne’er ſhall die:

But he is gone! extinguiſh’d is that Light,

Which with its Luſtre so long charm’d our Sight:

Yet at his Loſs we dare not once repine,

While we ſee Dorſet with ſuch Glory ſhine,

While we ſee Normanby adorn the Skies,

And Halifax with dazling Brightneſs riſe:

That fam’d Triumvirate of Wit and Senſe,

Who Laws to the whole Under-world diſpence;

Whoſe Praiſe for me t’attempt, would be a Fau’t,

So much are they, beyond the higheſt flight of Thought.

Granville E7v 62

Granville the Charms of Virtue does rehearſe,

Bright it appears in his majeſtick Verſe:

Forſaken Honeſty’s his chief Delight,

To That, and Honour, he does all invite:

Commends that Peace, that Quiet of the Mind,

Which thoſe enjoy, who to themſelves confin’d

Forſake the noiſie World, and leave its Cares behind,

Who live in Shades, where true Contentment’s found,

And fly from Courts, as from unhallow’d Ground.

How wondrous good has he Chryſeis made!

How full of Charms is that fair Captive Maid!

What noble Proofs of Kindneſs does ſhe give!

For her Artides ſhe can wretched live!

Whom ſhe ſo much above her ſelf does prize,

That when his Safety in the Balance lies,

From his lov’d Sight, and all her Bliſs ſhe flies;

And rather than his Happineſs deſtroy,

Will take an everlaſting leave of Joy.

Such an Affection, ſuch a gen’rous Flame,

Sure, the ſevereſt Cenſor cannot blame.

As firm, as laſting, would our Friendſhips prove,

If, as we ought, we knew but how to love:

Did Honour chuſe, and Truth unite our Hearts,

If we were free from ſordid wheedling Arts,

From Av’rice, Pride, and Narrowneſs of Mind,

We ſhou’d to others, as our ſelves be kind,

And all the Pleaſures of a virtuous Union find.

The lov’d Commerce would more and more endear,

We with our Friends in all Concerns ſhould ſhare,

With them rejoice, and grieve, and hope, and fear;

And E8r 63

And by Degrees to ſuch an Ardor riſe,

That we for them ſhould Life it ſelf deſpiſe,

And much above our own, their Satisfaction prize.

Than Dennis none with greater Judgment writes,

Fancy with Vigor in his Stile unites.

A Place with theſe, Vanbrook may juſtly claim,

His Thoughts are full of Wit, and full of Flame:

Inſtructing Sharpneſs runs thro’ ev’ry Page;

His Æſop’s the Therſites of our Age.

Than Garth none can with greater Smoothneſs write,

Juſt is his Stile, his Satyr is Polite:

Not rude like thoſe which in the Woods are bred,

Each piercing Truth’s with courtly Softneſs ſaid:

But when he glorious Actions does rehearſe,

And makes the Great the Subject of his Verſe,

He ſoars aloft above the Reach of Thought,

And all’s with wondrous Art, with wondrous Fancy wrought.

Like him, methinks, I mighty Heroes view;

See fam’d Camillus flying Gauls purſue,

The prudent Fabius Rome from Danger ſhield,

And Carthage to victorious Scipio yield:

The great Naſſaw unwith’ring Lawrels gain,

Unmov’d the Shock of Gallick Force ſuſtain,

Fierce as the God of War on the Phlegrœan Plain:

But he’s no more: The Fair aſcends Throne,

And we with Joy the lov’d Minerva own;

Pleas’d that we Heav’ns peculiar Care are grown.

Congreve E8v 64

Congreve to ev’ry Theme does Beauty give,

His fair Almeria will for ever live.

Homer looks great in his rich Engliſh Dreſs;

So well he Priam’s Sorrow does expreſs,

That I with him for valiant Hector grieve;

His Suff’rings on my Mind a deep Impreſſion leave.

With ſad Andromache a part I bear,

With her in all her Lamentations ſhare:

With Hecuba bewail a darling Son,

Who for his Country glorious Things had done:

His Country, which its Prop thus ſnatch’d away,

She knew muſt to the Græcians fall a Prey;

And ſhe with all her Houſe muſt foreign Lords obey.

Rowe to the Skies does his great Hero raiſe;

His Tamerlane deſerves immortal Praiſe:

No Pen but his cou’d ev’ry Feature trace,

No Pen but his deſcribe each Martial Grace:

With noble Ardor to the War he goes,

And all aound commanding Glances throws,

And fearleſs views Ten thouſand thouſand Foes:

Unwilling to deſtroy, he mourns their Fate,

Th’enſuing Slaughter does his Thirſt of Fame abate:

When he from Bajazet has won the Field,

And all to his ſuperior Virtue yield,

He’s ſtill the ſame; ſtill humble, juſt, and kind;

In him we ſtill the God-like Scythian find,

The ſame compaſſionate, forgiving, gen’rous Mind.

Who F1r 65

Who for Arpaſia can from Tears abſtain?

Or hear unmov’d, her much wrong’d Prince complain?

With melting Softneſs they their Woes expreſs;

Their Sorrows charm in his attracting Dreſs.

Ovid himſelf could not with greater Art

Deſcribe the tender Motions of the Heart,

The Grief they feel, who muſt for ever part.

Who beauteous Selima expos’d can ſee

To her inhuman Father’s Cruelty

Without Concern? And when in ſuch Diſtreſs

Not her Axalla, her Deliv’rer bleſs?

May he go on, ſtill thus adorn the Stage,

Still ſhow ſuch bright Examples to our Age,

Till he to us loſt Virtue ſhall reſtore,

And we ſee Honour flouriſh here once more:

Till Juſtice all her ancient Rights regains,

And in her once lov’d Albion unmoleſted reigns.

When theſe have for ſome time employ’d my Mind,

In other Authors I freſh Pleaſures find,

And meet with various Scenes of Thoughts behind:

Loſt Montezuma in Accoſta view,

See what for Gold the barb’rous Spaniards do:

See the good Inca’s bend beneath their Fate,

And dying mourn the downfal of their State:

Then with him lofty Andes Height aſcend;

See the fam’d Amazon her Streams extend,

And to the Sea her wide-ſtretch’d Current bend.

F Then F1v 66

Then view in others Aſiatick Pride,

See a few Men the ſpacious Eaſt divide:

Whoſe hard Commands poor Wretches muſt obey,

Doom’d to the Miſchiefs of Tyrannick Sway:

To Toil condemn’d, they paſs their Time in Pain,

But dare not of their rig’rous Fate complain:

Nothing is theirs, their Lives are not their own,

To them no Pity, no Regard is ſhown:

Like Beaſts they’re us’d, and little more they know,

And ev’ry Place like them, does Signs of Slavery ſhow:

Their Plains once fruitful, now neglected lie;

And glorious Structures which once brav’d the Skie,

Can hardly now their awful Relicks show,

We ſcarce can their majeſtick Ruins know,

While China govern’d by the wiſeſt Rules,

And all her Nobles bred in great Confutius Schools,

Shews me what Art and Induſtry can do:

Pleas’d I their Morals and Politeneſs view:

Delighted ſee how happy they remain,

Who ſtill the Love of Learning entertain,

And where, pure uncorrupted Reaſon ſtill does Reign.

Then look on their Reverſe, whom all deride,

Who ſeem deſign’d to pull down human Pride:

Thoſe rude inhabitants of Africk’s Shore,

Who ſeek no future Good, no God adore:

Whoſe Ornaments are nauſeous to the Sight,

And who ſeem made with a Deſign to fright:

From ſuch loath’d Objects I divert my Eyes,

And pity thoſe I did at firſt deſpiſe,

Why, F2r 67

Why, O ye Heav’nly Pow’rs, I ſighing ſay,

Are Souls condemn’d to ſuch vile Loads of Clay,

To Bodies which their Faculties confine,

Thro’ which not one celeſtial Ray can ſhine?

We ſhou’d, alas! as deſpicable prove,

Were we not made the Care of unexhauſted Love:

To That the diff’rence we muſt ſtill aſſign,

And ev’ry proud aſpiring Thought decline:

When we by Flatt’rers are rais’d too high,

And Man, vain Man, beyond his Sphere does fly,

Narciſſus-like on’s own Perfections gaze,

He ought to turn his Vanity to Praiſe,

And ſtudy to be grateful all his Days.

While thus employ’d, I no Misfortunes fear,

And can unmov’d the greateſt Troubles bear:

Quiet, and pleas’d, on my own Stock I live,

And to my ſelf Content, and Riches give.

F2 A Pin- F2v 68

A Pindarick Ode.


Pleasures, like Syrens, ſtill invite,

And with deluſive Charms,

Bewitching Baits of ſoft Delight,

Allure th’unwary to their Arms:

The thoughtleſs Many drawn away

By ſweet inticing Lays,

Soon fall a voluntary Prey,

And meanly end their Days;

While the more manly, and the brave,

Themſelves by Reſolution ſave:

As on the boiſt’rous Sea of Life they ſail,

With watchful Eyes,

A Vigilance which ne’er can fail,

They mark the Skies, the Rocks, the Sands:

Still at the Helm their Reaſon ſtands,

When ſhe the fatal Iſle deſcries,

And each Inchantreſs ſees prepare

To tune her Voice, and lay her Snare.

She loudly cries, O my lov’d Charge, beware:

Fly, quickly fly that dang’rous Shore;

O ſee! with Bones ’tis cover’d o’er:

Let others Ruin make you wiſe;

Remote from them your Safety lies:

They none but thoughtleſs Fools ſurprize.

2. They F3r 69


They can’t to you now wing their Way,

Their Plumes the Muſes now adorn;

They only can by Wiles betray:

You their united Force may ſcorn.

Be like the wiſe Ulyſſes bound,

Pernicious freedom ſhun,

Be deaf to ev’ry flatt’ring Sound;

The moſt are by themſelves undone:

How few like Orpheus dare depend

On their ſuperior Skill,

How few with good Succeſs atttend

The fickle Motions of their Will!

None but exalted Souls who move

By the Direction of celeſtial Love:

Who ſoar aloft, and full of heav’nly Fire,

To the Perfection of their kind aſpire,

Who with Contempt view ev’ry thing below,

And to the Source of Pleaſure go,

That pure, unmix’d, eternal Spring,

From whence thoſe muddy Rivers flow,

With which we ſtrive to quench our Thirſt;

To which we rav’nous Cravings bring;

And are with wiſh’d Repletion curſt:

When we the largeſt Draughts obtain,

We but oppreſſing Burthens gain;

Which only ſwell the Mind,

And when they’re gone, leave an uncomfortable Void behind.

F3 3. Such F3v 70


Such Souls alone with Airs Divine

Always themſelves delight:

In vain their Skill the Tempters try,

They both the Tempters, and their Skill defie;

Their Notes are loſt in Strains more bold and high,

Aſham’d they quit their vain Deſign,

And full of anxious Spight,

With drooping Heads repine;

While th’ joyful Victors onward move,

And chaunt the Praiſe of him above,

Of him, who does their Art beſtow,

From whom harmonious Numbers flow:

Thrice happy they who thus can live,

Can on the mounting Billows ride,

Can to themſelves Contentment give,

And void of Fear, and void of Pride,

To lofty Heights themſelves can raiſe,

And ſweetly warble out their Days,

Regardleſs of deſigning, meaner Lays.


Whilſt Icarus his Wings prepar’d

His trembling Father for him fear’d:

And thus to him he ſighing ſaid,

O let paternal Love perſuade:

With me, my deareſt Son, comply,

And do not proudly ſoar too high:

For, F4r 71

For near, Apollo’s ſcorching Heat,

Will on thy Wings too fiercely beat:

And ſoon diſſolve the waxen Ties.

Nor loiter in the lower Skies,

Leaſt Steams ſhould from the Land ariſe,

And damp thy Plumes, and check thy Flight.

And plunge thee into gloomy Night.

Th’ ambitious Youth led on by Pride,

Did all this good Advice deride;

And ſmiling, raſhly ſoar’d on high;

Too near the Source of Light did fly;

A while, well pleas’d, he wanton’d there,

Rejoicing breath’d Æthereal Air:

But ah! the Pleaſure ſoon was paſt,

The Tranſport was too great to laſt:

His Wings dropt off, and down he came

Into that Sea which keeps his Name.

His grieving Father ſaw him drown’d,

And ſent loud moving Crys around:

Ah! wretched Youth, he weeping ſaid,

Thou’rt now a dire Example made,

Of thoſe who with ungovern’d Heat

Aſpire to be ſupremely great;

Who from obſcure Beginnings riſe,

And ſwoln with Pride, Advice deſpiſe;

Mount up with haſt above their Sphere,

And no ſuperior Pow’rs revere.

O may thy Fall be uſeful made,

May it to humbler Thoughts perſuade:

To Men th’ avoidleſs Danger Show

Of thoſe who fly too high, or low;

F4 Who F4r 72

Who from the Paths of Virtue ſtray,

And keep not in the middle Way:

Who ſinge their Wings with heav’nly Fire;

Amidſt their glorious Hopes expire:

Or with a baſe and groveling Mind

Are to the Clods of Earth confin’d.



As vainly wiſhing, gazing, dying,

The fond Narciſſus lay,

Kind Echo, to his Sighs replying,

Theſe words was heard to ſay;

Ah! wretched Swain, by Pride betray’d:

That Poiſ’ner of the Mind;

That Voice by none but Fools obey’d,

That Teſt of Souls deſign’d:

That dang’rous Ill which ne’er is found,

In ſuch as with Minerva’s Gifts are crown’d.


What will you do when Time decaying

That lovely beauteous Face,

And you the Laws of Fate obeying,

Muſt to old Age give place?

Old Age, which comes with Swiftneſs on:

Your haſty Minutes fly;

Some part of what you were is gone,

Deforming F5r 73

Deforming Death is nigh:

When Time and Pain your Charms abate,

How will you then this Chryſtal Mirror hate?


The God of Love you’re now offending,

He looks with Anger down;

And while you’re on your ſelf attending,

Regardleſs of his Frown,

He’ll make you curſe that fatal Hour

In which you hither came:

When he makes known his wondrous Pow’r,

You’ll your indiff’rence blame:

And wiſh to me you’d kinder prov’d,

And leſs, much leſs, your own Perfections lov’d.


Be gone, be gone, he ſtill replying,

Felt an inward Anguiſh:

And ſtill the wat’ry Image eying

For himſelf did languiſh:

The pitying Nymph ſtood grieving by

To ſee his vain Deſire:

With out-ſtretch’d Arms ſhe heard him cry,

O why doſt thou retire?

Why does this dear attracting Shape,

From my Embrace with ſo much haſt eſcape?


While thus he was himſelf admiring,

The cruel Sportive Pow’r,

Who F5v 74

Who ſaw his Reaſon was expiring,

Transform’d him to a Flow’r:

The Nymph amaz’d, the Wonder view’d,

And wou’d not thence remove;

At length ſhe by her Grief ſubdu’d,

An empty Voice did prove:

Both were to Folly Victims made,

She by her Fondneſs, he by Pride betray’d.

A Dialogue between Virgil and Mævius.


Where are thoſe ſacred Lawrels now

Which did above adorn thy Brow?

And where the mighty Maro’s Fame?

Here Mævius is as great a Name.


Tho’ me the Ghoſts will not obey,

Yet thoſe Above due Honours pay:

There I’m by all the Wits rever’d,

And ſtill by ev’ry Mævius fear’d.

Mine, and Homer’s awful Shade,

By the learn’d World ſupreme are made;

There, like th’ infernal Judges, we

Can puniſh, or Rewards decree.


Can this a real Good beſtow?

Or make you happier here below?

A ſtarving Man may dream of Meat,

May in his Sleep choice Viands eat:

And F6r 75

And Beggers, ſhivering with Cold,

May dream of Robes, of Fires, and Gold:

And Men, when toſt on raging Seas,

May dream of Safety, Calms, and Eaſe:

But when they wake, are ſtill the ſame,

Their Bliſs from Sportive Fancy came.


Immortal Praiſe does feed the Mind.


You, that an airy Food will find.


’Tis what the Heroes ſtill have ſought,

What with their Blood and Lives they’ve bought:

For This the Men of Senſe contend;

In This their Toils of Thinking end:

’Tis This the Rich, the Proud, the Vain,

With ſo much Labour ſtrive to gain:

For This the Fair their Charms employ,

In This they place their higheſt Joy:

In This all with one Voice combine;

All own it is a Gift Divine.


How can a Puff of fleeting Air

Deſerve to be a Wiſe Man’s Care?

Or who’d be fond of empty Praiſe,

Of what the noiſie Rabble ſays?

Men fickle as th’ inconſtant Wind,

Who but by Starts are Juſt, or Kind.

See thoſe who when you were above

Did treat you with Reſpect and Love,

Do now by you regardleſs ſlide

With a ſtiff and ſullen Pride,

Not one obliging Look will give:

Now all alone you here muſt live,

A poor F6v 76

A poor forſaken wandring Shade,

By none deſir’d, by none obey’d;

And to your ſelf a Burthen made.


The Man who is by Phœbus fir’d,

Can never with himſelf be tir’d:

He ſtill within new Trophies raiſes,

Himſelf both entertains, and praiſes:

He ev’ry noiſie Fool deſpiſes,

Good Senſe and Learning only prizes:

And while he is of theſe poſſeſt,

When moſt alone is chiefly bleſt.

My Thoughts, the Springs of pure Delight,

Still to internal Views invite;

Scenes charming, gay, and ever new;

To me the Works of Nature ſhew,

And all the Mimick Art can do:

Me and my Muſe they ſtill employ,

To us are conſtant Funds of Joy:

We paſt and preſent Ages ſee,

And pry into Futurity;

Then thro’ the glorious Fields of Light

We take a bold and towring Flight,

View all the happy Seats above,

The ſhining Court of thund’ring Jove;

Thence downward wing our eaſie Way,

And ev’ry Sea, and Land ſurvey;

Then to theſe Realms deſcend again,

Where ſoft Delights for ever reign;

And where I ſomething always find

Fit to divert and feaſt my Mind.

While F7r [ 77 ]

While thus employ’d, I here below

The Height of Bliſs, and Pleaſure know:

I neither need, nor value praiſe,

And ſcorn a with’ring Wreath of Bays.

To the Learn’d and Ingenious Dr. Muſgrave of Exeter.


Thoſe who like me their Gratitude would ſhow,

Are griev’d to think they ſtill muſt owe:

Be ſtill oblig’d, and never know the way

The ſmalleſt part of the vaſt Sum to pay:

A Sum beyond th’ Arithmetick of Thought,

And which does daily higher riſe:

To be your Debtor is no more my Fault,

The whole that I can give, will not ſuffice:

I am too poor Returns to make,

Unleſs you’ll Thanks as a Requital take:

Thanks are the whole that I can bring:

My Muſe ſhall of Your wondrous Bounty ſing;

Your gen’rous Temper to the World make known,

That gen’rous Temper you’ve ſo often ſhown,

And which I ſtill muſt with the higheſt Praiſes own.

2. But F7v 78


But what, alas, is it I ſay!

Can I with Thanks for a lov’d Daughter pay?

Can her dear Life that’s owing to your Care,

Any Proportion to ſuch Trifles bear?

With weeping Eyes I ſaw her fainting lie,

Gaſping for Breath,

But ſaw no Safety nigh.

As ſome poor Wretch who from the diſtant Shore,

And with inſulting Waves quite cover’d o’er,

With piteous Crys does for Aſſiſtance pray,

And ſtrives t’ eſcape the liquid Death;

Thus almoſt loſt your helpleſs Patient lay,

To the devouring Waters left a Prey,

Till ſhe was reſcu’d by your Hand:

By ſuch amazing Skill, and Depth of Thought,

Once more into the Number of the Living brought:

Where ſhe the Trophy of Your Art do’s ſtand,

That pow’rful Art, which hitherto does ſave

A Life, which long ſince ſeem’d determin’d to the Grave.


Under Your Care while ſhe remain’d,

Each Day ſhe Strength and Spirits gain’d:

Her Health ſuch quick Advances made,

That all with Wonder did its Progreſs view,

And when they look’d on her, applauded you:

But ſince ſhe from your Care was ſnatch’d away

Like Plants which want reviving Rays,

She withers in the Shade,

And hourly does decay:

Had F8r 79

Had Heav’n deſign’d her Length of Days,

She ne’er had been from you remov’d,

But Fate to her has inauſpicious prov’d:

Weak as ſhe is, ſhe ſtill does Thanks repay,

Does ſtill your former Favours own,

Thoſe Kindneſſes you’ve in her Sickneſs ſhown;

And in the fitteſt Words that ſhe can frame,

She ſtrives to pay her Homage to your Fame,

And add a worthleſs Mite to th’Glory of your Name.


But by a Child, and one ſo young,

There can be no becoming Praiſes ſung:

I’ll undertake the Task, and try

If I can her Defect ſupply:

My Muſe ſhall ſtrive to make your Virtues known;

Thoſe virtues which you modeſtly conceal,

She ſhall to th’ applauding World reveal:

Your Prudence, Truth, and Juſtice ſhall rehearſe,

Tho’ each alone

Would prove a copious Subject for her Verſe:

And you to all Mankind ſhall recommend,

For the ſincereſt, moſt obliging Friend,

For one in whom they may confide, on whom they may depend:

For one who’s bleſt with all they can deſire,

With whatſoever can Eſteem engage;

With all thoſe Qualities in one combin’d,

Which ſingly they admire,

And can but ſeldom find:

Who to the Coolneſs of delib’rate Age,

Has added all that ſprightly youthful Fire,

Which do’s the nobleſt Thoughts inſpire:

To F8v 80

To ſolid Judgment, elevated Senſe,

And all the Knowledge Learning can diſpence,

Has join’d the Charms of pow’rful Eloquence.


You like a ſecond Æſculapius riſe,

Before you Fame, that noiſie Goddeſs, flies,

And Muſgrave’s Name is echo’d thro’ the Skies:

Th’ obſequious Mountains anſwer to the Sound,

And friendly Winds diſperſe the glorious Accents round.

Diſeaſes yield; they to your Art ſubmit,

And Health does on your Steps attend;

When you appear, Death muſt her Conqueſt quit;

She dares not touch what you defend:

Murm’ring ſhe flies, griev’d at her Loſs of Pow’r;

And finds ſhe muſt not now with ſo much Eaſe devour.

Long may you live the Bleſſing of this Iſle,

From ev’ry Pain, and ev’ry Ill ſecure;

On you may fortune ever ſmile,

And ſtill your Happineſs enſure.

O may we long your Converſation have,

And with the Sweets of Friendſhip bleſt,

For num’rous Years defeat the Grave,

And keep you back from everlaſting Reſt;

Till tir’d with Length of Days, and crown’d with Fame,

You the great Privilege of Dying claim,

Pleas’d to live only here in an immortal Name.

The G1r [ 81 ]

The Obſervation.


No State of Life’s from Troubles free,

Grief mixes with our vital Breath:

As ſoon as we begin to be,

From the firſt moment of our Birth,

We have ſome taſt of Miſery:

With Sighs and Tears our Fate we mourn,

As of our Infant Reaſon did preſage

Th’ approaching Ills of our maturer Age,

And wiſh’d a quick Return.

When Souls are firſt to their cloſe Rooms confine’d,

Nothing of their Celeſtial Make is ſeen,

Obſcuring Earth does interpoſe between:

Like Tapers hid in Urns they ſhine.

The Life of Senſe and Growth we only ſee,

Which Beaſts enjoy as well as we:

But th’active Mind

Which bears the Image of the Pow’r Divine,

Cannot exert its Energy:

The ſtreiten’d Intellect immur’d does lie,

Shut up within a narrow place,

Till Nature does enlarge the Space,

And by degrees the Organs fit,

For thoſe great Operations which are wrought by it.

G 2. Thus G1v 82


Thus for ſome Years we live by Senſe,

Happy in nothing but in Innocence:

But when our feebler Age is paſt,

And we to ſprightly Youth arrive,

The Race of Life we run ſo faſt,

As if we thought our Strength would always laſt:

Hurry’d by Paſſion, and by Fancy led,

We all the various Paths of Folly tread:

Reaſon we ſlight, and her Commands deſpiſe,

In vain ſhe calls, in vain adviſe,

And ev’ry gentle Method tries:

Againſt her kind Endeavours ſtill we ſtrive,

And run where ever Head-ſtrong Paſſions drive:

Thoſe Ills we court, which we as Plagues ſhou’d ſhun,

And are by ev’ry falſe Appearance won:

But wiſer Thoughts when riper Years inſpire,

We at the Follies of our Youth admire;

And wonder how ſuch childiſh Things as theſe

Cou’d Minds endu’d with Reaſon pleaſe;

Yet while we proudly our paſt Actions blame,

We do as fooliſh Things, tho’ not the ſame;

Our Follies differ only in the Dreſs and Name.


Self-love ſo crouds the human Breaſt,

That there’s no Room for any other Gueſt;

By it inſpir’d we all Mankind deſpiſe,

And think our ſelves the only Good and Wiſe:

Fond Thought! a Thought that only can

Become the vaineſt Part of the Creation, Man:

That G2r 83

That haughty Creature, who puff’d up with Pride,

And fill’d with airy Notions ſoars on high,

And think himſelf the Glory of the Sky,

Where for a while in Fancy’s flatt’ring Light

Th’unkindl’d Vapour plays,

Much pleas’d with its imaginary Rays;

Till having waſted its ſmall Stock of Flame,

The heavy Lump, the thing without a Name,

Falls headlong down from its exalted Height

Into Oblivion’s everlaſting Night.



Happy are they who when alone

Can with themſelves converſe;

Who to their Thoughts are ſo familiar grown,

That with Delight in ſome obſcure Receſs,

They cou’d with ſilent Joy think all their Hours away,

And ſtill think on, till the confining Clay

Fall off, and nothing’s left behind

Of droſſy Earth, nothing to clog the Mind,

Or hinder its Aſcent to thoſe bright Forms above,

Thoſe glorious Beings whoſe exalted Senſe

Tranſcends the higheſt Flights of human Wit;

Who with Seraphick Ardor fir’d,

And with a Paſſion more intenſe

Than Mortal Beauty e’er inſpir’d;

G2 With G2v 84

With all th’endearing Extaſies of Love,

Will to their bleſt Society again

The long loſt Wand’rers admit,

Where freed from all their former Pain,

And cleans’d from ev’ry Stain,

They bask with Pleaſure in eternal Day,

And grow as pure, and as refin’d as they.


But few, ah! few are for Retirement fit;

But few the Joys of Solitude can taſte;

The moſt with Horror fly from it,

And rather chuſe in Crouds their time to waſte;

In buſie Crouds, which a Reſemblance bear

To th’ unſhap’d Embryo of the World,

That formleſs Maſs where all things were

Without Diſtinction rudely hurl’d:

Tumult and Noiſe the Empire there had gain’d,

Unrival’d there Diſorder reign’d:

The thoughtleſs Atoms met by chance,

Without Deſign they mov’d, Confuſion led the Dance:

Sometimes the earthly Particles aſpir’d,

And upward forc’d their way,

While the ſpirituous Parts retir’d,

And near the Centre lay

Depreſs’d and ſunk, till by the next Remove

They diſengag’d, and got above,

But cou’d not long th’ impelling Shock ſuſtain,

By Turns they riſe, by Turns they fell again.

3. We G3r 85


We in our ſelves a ſecond Chaos find;

There is a Tranſcript of it in the human Mind:

Our reſtleſs Paſſions endleſs Wars maintain,

And with loud Clamors fill the Breaſt:

Love often there the Sov’reignty does gain,

As often is by Hatred diſpoſſeſs’d:

Deſire the Soul with anxious Thoughrts does fill,

Inſatiate boundleſs Thoughts inſtill:

Some diſtant Good we view,

Which we, by Hope puſh’d on, purſue,

Breathleſs, and faint, the toilſom Chaſe renew:

And when ’tis ours, tumultuous Joy does riſe,

Ungovern’d Tranſport Sparkles in our Eyes;

And we all Extaſie, all Fire,

The darling Prize admire,

And hug the Bleſſing till it does expire:

Then to deſpair our ſelves reſign,

And ſigh, and grieve, and ſtill repine,

Curſe Heav’n, our ſelves, our Friends, our Fate,

And new, more pungent, Woes create:

But if the Sportive Goddeſs lay

A bright Temptation in our way,

All is forgot, and full of Heat,

Our former Toils we ſoon repeat;

Again purſue the airy Game;

And fond of Grandeur, Fond of Fame,

Of Glory, Pow’r, and glitt’ring Clay,

We in laborious Nothings waſte our ſhort Remains of Day.

G3 4. When G3v 86


When diſtant Ills we ſee,

The diſmal Proſpect us affrights,

The ſad Futurity

Fear in our Minds excites:

And by a mean diſhonourable Dread

Of Evils which may never be,

Our ſelves we fright, our Sprits waſte,

And often our Misfortunes haſte:

When they are preſent, then we rage,

Impatient, hot, and furious grow,

Nothing our Fury can aſſwage;

No Limits, no Reſtraints we know:

But by the Headlong Paſſion led,

Without the leaſt Demur obey;

And like ſome mighty Torrent force our Way:

Some mighty Torrent which no Limit knows,

But with a rapid Courſe ſtill onward goes,

Deſtroys the ſnowy Flocks, and lays Majeſtick Structures low:

But if a glimm’ring Hope ariſe,

If but a Gleam of Bliſs appear,

Again we’re eaſie, pleas’d, and gay:

Forgetful of what paſt before,

Above the Clouds we vainly ſoar:

Impending Dangers we deſpiſe,

And preſent Evils dread no more:

And while we proudly hover there,

Look down with Scorn upon the Phantom Fear.

5. Thus G4r 87


Thus they alternately do loſe and win,

And all is Anarchy within:

Reaſon her native Right may claim,

And ſtrive to re-aſcend the Throne,

But few, alas! her Pow’r will own:

The moſt to Folly their Alllegiance pay,

Pleas’d with her eaſie, and her childiſh Sway:

Their Paſſions rule, and they contentedly obey:

Slaves to themſelves they without Murmurs prove,

And with the meaneſt, worſt of Servitudes in Love,

By the ſtrong Impulſe of their Vices move:

Their Chains they hug, and Wiſdom’s Aid refuſe,

And will not her for their Director chuſe:

Her Paths they ſhun, her Yoke they will not bear,

And think her Precepts too ſevere:

Deaf to the Calls of Virtue and of Fame,

They madly wander thro’ the Maze of Life,

Employ’d in Trifles, or engag’d in Strife:

Inſlav’d by Intereſt, fond of glitt’ring Toys,

And much more pleas’d with Bubbles, than with ſolid Joys.

G4 On G4v 88

On the Death of my Honoured Mother Mrs. Lee:

A Dialogue between Lucinda and Mariſſa.


What, my Mariſſa, has Lucinda done,

That thus her once lov’d Company you ſhun?

Why is’t from her you thus unkindly fly,

From her, who for your Sake cou’d freely die?

Who knows no Joy but what your Sight does give,

And in your Heart alone deſires to live?

I beg you by that Zeal I’ve ſhewn for you,

That Tenderneſs which is to Friendſhip due,

By thoſe dear ſacred Bonds our Souls have ty’d,

Thoſe Bonds, which Death it ſelf ſhall ne’er divide;

By what ſo e’er you love, or I can name,

To let me know from whence this wond’rous Strangeneſs came

Remember by your Vows you’re wholly mine,

And I to you did all my Thoughts reſign:

My Joy was yours, and yours was all my Grief,

In your lov’d boſom ſtill I ſought Relief:

When you were chearful, I was truly bleſt,

And now your Sorrow deeply wounds my Breaſt:

I view it thro’ the thin Diſguiſe you wear,

And ſpite of all your Caution, all your Care,

Hear ev’ry riſing Sigh, and view each falling Tear.

Mar. G5r 89


Permit me, dear Lucinda to complain,

That your Unkindneſs do’s augment my Pain:

How could you think that one who lov’d like me

Would ever let you ſhare her Miſery?

To ſee you mourn would bring me no Relief,

No, that would rather double all my Grief:

For Love’s a Paſſion of the nobleſt kind,

And when ’tis ſeated in a gen’rous Mind,

’Twill be from mean Deſigns and Intereſt free

Not interrupt a Friend’s Felicity.

Had I been happy, with a ſmiling Face,

I long e’er now had run to your Embrace,

And in your Arms been eager to relate

The welcom Favours of propitious Fate:

But ſince ill Fortune do’s me ſtill purſue,

O let my Griefs remain unknown to you.

Free from ſad Thoughts may you for ever live,

And all your Hours to Mirth and Pleaſure give:

May no Concern for me your Peace moleſt;

O let me live a Stranger to your Breaſt:

No more, no more my worthleſs Name repeat,

Abandon me to this obſcure Retreat;

Make haſte from hence, my Sight will damp your Joy,

And the bleſt Calmneſs of your Soul deſtroy.


Think not I’ll leave you to your Griefs a Prey:

No! here with you I will for ever ſtay,

And weep with you my coming Hours away:

Return each Sigh, and ev’ry moving Groan,

And to repeating Echo’s make my Moan,

And tell them how unkind my lov’d Mariſſa’s grown.

Mar. G5v 90


To baniſh all Suſpicions from your Mind,

And that you may not think me ſtill unkind,

I’ll let you know the Cauſe that makes me mourn,

The Cauſe that does my Joy to Sorrow turn:

But oh! a Loſs ſo vaſt, ſo vaſtly great,

Who can without a Flood of Tears repeat!

It much too ſtrong for my Reſolves does prove,

And do’s my tend’reſt, ſofteſt Paſſions move:

Diſturbs the Peace, the Quiet of my Mind,

And for ſome Minutes makes me leſs reſign’d:

I to my Reaſon willingly would yield,

But ſtrugling Nature keeps by Force the Field;

Compel’d, I ſtoop to her imperious Sway,

And thus each hour, methinks, I hear her ſay,

Wretched Mariſſa! all thy Comfort’s fled,

And all thy Joy with thy lov’d Mother dead:

A Mother, who with ev’ry Grace was bleſt,

With all the Ornaments of Virtue dreſs’d;

With whatſoe’er Religion recommends;

The beſt of Wives, of Mothers, and of Friends.

And ſhould not ſuch a Loſs Complaints inſpire?

Their Apathy let Stoicks ſtill admire,

And ſtrict Obedience to their Rules require:

And on moroſe, ill-natur’d, thoughtleſs Fools,

Impoſe the rigid Notions of their Schools:

Inſenſibility were here a Fault,

And ’tis a Doctrine which I never taught:

Tears are becoming, and a Tribute due

To one ſo worthy, and ſo dear to you.

By her thus urg’d, I gave my Sorrow way,

And did the Dictates of my Grief obey:

In this Receſs, remote from Human Kind,

I thought I ſhou’d not Interruption find:

Moſt G6r 91

Moſt mind themſelves, the Abſent are forgot;

And this had doubtleſs been Mariſſa’s Lot,

Had not the kind Lucinda’s tender Care

Sought out this cloſe Aſylum of Deſpair,

And brought her hither all my Woes to ſhare.


Such as have heard of good Philinda’s Name,

Cannot with Juſtice ſad Mariſſa blame:

A Mother’s Loſs, and ſuch a Mother too,

Can’t, my dear Friend, but be deplor’d by you.

All you cou’d wiſh ſhe was; as Angels kind,

As Nature lib’ral, of a God-like Mind;

Steady as Fate, and conſtant in her Love;

One whom nor Wrongs, nor yet Affronts cou’d move

To mean Revenge, or a malicious Thought:

She liv’d thoſe Truths her holy Faith had taught:

Joy cou’d not raiſe, nor Grief depreſs her Mind,

She ſtill was calm, ſedate, and ſtill reſign’d.


Yes, ſhe was more, much more than you can name,

Cheerful, obliging, gen’rous, ſtill the ſame:

The Good ſhe prais’d, the Abſent did defend,

And was to the Diſtreſt a conſtant Friend:

Full of Compaſſion, and from Cenſure free,

And of a moſt extenſive Charity:

With winning Sweetneſs ſhe did ſtill perſuade,

And her Reproofs were prudently convey’d:

In ſofteſt Language ſhe’d the Vicious blame,

And none e’er lov’d with a more ardent Flame:

Her Friends Concerns ſhe kindly made her own,

For them her greateſt Care, her chief Regard was ſhown:

At no Misfortune ſhe did e’er repine,

But ſtill ſubmitted to the Will Divine:

No G6v 92

No diſcontented Thoughts diſturb’d her Breaſt,

What ever happen’d, ſhe ſtill thought was beſt:

When her laſt Sickneſs came, that dire Diſeaſe

Which did on her with ſudden Fury ſeize,

With utmoſt Rage the Fort of Life aſſail,

Reſolv’d by racking Tortures to prevail;

O with what Patience did ſhe bear her Pain,

And all th’ Attacks of cruel Death ſuſtain!

The dreadful Ill could not moleſt her Mind,

There ſhe did ſtill a happy Calmneſs find,

A well fixt Pleaſure, a ſubſtantial Joy,

Serenity which nothing could deſtroy,

Sweet Antepaſt of what ſhe finds above,

Where ſhe’s now bleſt with what ſhe moſt did love;

That ſov’reign Good which did her Soul inflame,

And whoſe Fruition was her utmoſt Aim;

And in whoſe Preſence ſhe do’s now poſſeſs

A long deſir’d, and endleſs Happineſs.


Since ſhe from all the Pains of Life is free,

And in Poſſeſſion of Felicity,

’Tis unbecoming ſuch a Grief to ſhow,

As can from nothing but ungovern’d Paſſion flow.


’Tis, I confeſs, a Fault; but who can part

From one ſhe loves, without a bleeding Heart?


’Tis hard, I own, but yet it may be done;

Such glorious Victories are ſometimes won:

Time will at length the greateſt Grief ſubdue,

And ſhall not Reaſon do the ſame for you?

Reaſon, which ſhou’d our Actions always guide,

And o’er our Words, and o’er our Thoughts preſide:

Paſſions ſhould never that aſcendant gain,

They G7r 93

They were for Service made, and not to reign:

Yet do not think I your paſt Sorrow blame,

Were the Loſs mine, ſure, I ſhou’d do the ſame,

But having paid the Debt to Nature due,

No more the Dictates of my Grief purſue.

From that dark Grave where her lov’d Body lies,

Raiſe, my Mariſſa, your dejected Eyes,

And view her Soul aſcending to the Skies,

By Angels guarded, who in charming Lays,

Sing as they mount, their great Creator’s Praiſe;

And to celeſtial Seats their Charge convey,

To never ending Bliſs, and never ending Day:

And is’t not cruel, or at leaſt unkind

To wiſh that ſhe were ſtill to Earth confin’d,

Still forc’d to bend beneath her Load of Clay?

Methinks I hear the glorious Viſion ſay,

What is’t, Mariſſa, makes you ſtill complain,

Are you concern’d that I am void of Pain,

And wou’d you have me wretched once again?

Have me t’exchange this Bliſs for Toil and Fear,

And all theſe Glories for a Life of Care?

Or is’t th’Effect of a too fond Deſire,

Do’s Love, miſtaken Love, theſe Thoughts inſpire?

Is it my Abſence you ſo much deplore,

And do you grieve becauſe I’m yours no more,

Becauſe with me you can no more Converſe,

No more repeat your wrongs, or tell me your diſtreſs,

No more by my Advice your Actions ſteer,

And never more my kind Inſtructions hear?

If this do’s cauſe your Grief, no more Complain;

’Twill not be long e’er we ſhall meet again;

Shall meet all Joy in theſe bright Realms of Love,

And never more the Pains of Abſence prove:

Till G7v 94

Till that bleſt Time, with decent Calmneſs wait,

And bear unmov’d the Preſſures of your Fate.


Yes, my dear Friend, I your Advice will take,

Dry up my Tears, and theſe lov’d Shades forſake:

I can’t reſiſt, when Kindneſs leads the Way;

I’m wholly yours, and muſt your Call obey:

With you to hated Crouds and Noiſe I’ll go,

And the beſt Proofs of my Affection ſhow:

But where ſoe’er I am, my troubl’d Mind

Will ſtill to my Philinda be confin’d;

Her Image is upon my Soul impreſt,

She lives within, and governs in my Breaſt:

I’ll ſtrive to live thoſe Virtues ſhe has taught,

They ſhall employ my Pen, my Tongue, my Thought:

Where e’er I go her Name my Theme ſhall prove,

And what ſoe’er I ſay, ſhall loudly ſpeak my Love.

On the Death of my dear Daughter Eliza Maria Chudleigh:

A Dialogue between Lucinda and Mariſſa.


O My Lucinda! O my deareſt Friend!

Muſt my Afflictions never, never End!

Has Heav’n for me no Pity left in Store,

Muſt I! O muſt I ne’er be happy more,

Philinda’s G8r 95

Philinda’s Loſs had almoſt broke my Heart,

From her, Alas! I did but lately part:

And muſt there ſtill be new Occaſions found

To try my Patience, and my Soul to wound?

Muſt my lov’d Daughter too be ſnatch’d away,

Muſt ſhe ſo ſoon the Call of Fate obey?

In her firſt Dawn, replete with youthful Charms,

She’s fled, ſhe’s fled from my deſerted Arms.

Long did ſhe ſtruggle, long the War maintain,

But all th’Efforts of Life, alas! were in vain.

Could Art have ſav’d her ſhe had ſtill been mine,

Both Art and Care together did combine,

But what is Proof againſt the Will Divine!

Methinks I ſtill her dying Conflict view,

And the ſad Sight does all my Grief renew:

Rack’d by Convulſive Pains ſhe meekly lies,

And gazes on me with imploring Eyes,

With Eyes which beg Relief, but all in vain,

I ſee, but cannot, cannot eaſe her Pain:

She muſt the Burthen unaſſiſted bear,

I cannot with her in her Tortures ſhare:

Wou’d they were mine, and ſhe ſtood eaſie by;

For what one loves, ſure ’twere not hard to die.

See, how ſhe labours, how ſhe pants for Breath,

She’s lovely ſtill, ſhe’s ſweet, ſhe’s ſweet in Death!

Pale as ſhe is, ſhe beauteous does remain,

Her cloſing Eyes their Luſtre ſtill retain:

Like ſetting Suns, with undiminiſh’d Light,

They hide themſelves within the Verge of Night.

She’s gone! ſhe’s gone! ſhe ſigh’d her Soul away!

And can I! can I any longer ſtay!

My Life, alas! has ever tireſome been,

And I few happy, eaſie Days have ſeen;

But G8v 96

But now it does a greater Burthen grow,

I’ll throw it off and no more Sorrow know,

But with her to calm peaceful Regions go.

Stay thou, dear Innocence, retard thy Flight,

O stop thy Journy to the Realms of Light,

Stay till I come: To thee I’ll ſwiftly move,

Attracted by the ſtrongeſt Paſſion, Love.


No more, no more let me ſuch Language hear,

I can’t, I can’t the piercing Accents bear:

Each Word you utter ſtabs me to the Heart:

I cou’d from Life, not from Mariſſa part:

And were your Tenderneſs as great as mine,

While I were left, you would not thus repine.

My Friends are Riches, Health, and all to me,

And while they’re mine, I cannot wretched be.


If I on you cou’d Happineſs beſtow,

I ſtill the Toils of Life wou’d undergo,

Wou’d ſtill contentedly my Lot ſuſtain,

And never more of my hard Fate complain:

But ſince my Life to you will uſeleſs prove,

O let me haſten to the Joys above:

Farewel, farewel, take, take my laſt adieu,

May Heav’n be more propitious ſtill to you

May you live happy when I’m in my Grave,

And no Misfortunes, no Afflictions have:

If to ſad Objects you’ll ſome Pity lend,

And give a Sigh to an unhappy Friend,

Think of Mariſſa, and her wretched State,

How ſhe’s been us’d by her malicious Fate,

Recount thoſe Storms which ſhe has long ſuſtain’d,

And then rejoice that ſhe the Port has gain’d,

The H1r 97

The welcome Haven of eternal Reſt,

Where ſhe ſhall be for ever, ever bleſt;

And in her Mother’s, and her Daughter’s Arms,

Shall meet with new, with unexperienc’d Charms.

O how I long thoſe dear Delights to taſte;

Farewel, farewel; my Soul is much in haſte.

Come Death and give the kind releaſing Blow;

I’m tir’d with Life, and over-charg’d with Woe:

In thy cool, ſilent, unmoleſted Shade,

O let me be by their dear Relicks laid;

And there with them from all my Troubles free,

Enjoy the Bleſſings of a long Tranquillity.


O thou dear Suff’rer, on my Breaſt recline

Thy drooping Head, and mix thy Tears with mine:

Here reſt a while, and make a Truce with Grief,

Conſider; Sorrow brings you no Relief.

In the great Play of Life we muſt not chuſe,

Nor yet the meaneſt Character refuſe

Like Soldiers we our Gen’ral muſt obey,

Muſt ſtand our Ground, and not to Fear give way,

But go undaunted on till we have won the Day.

Honour is ever the Reward of Pain,

A lazy Virtue no Applauſe will gain,

All ſuch as to uncommon Heights would riſe,

And on the Wings of Fame aſcend the Skies,

Muſt learn the Gifts of Fortune to deſpiſe.

They to themſelves their Bliſs muſt ſtill confine,

Muſt be unmov’d, and never once repine:

But few to this Perfection can attain,

Our Paſſions often will th’Aſcendant gain,

And Reaſon but alternately does reign;

H Diſguis’d H1v 98

Diſguis’d by Pride, we ſometimes ſeem to bear

A haughty Port, and ſcorn to ſhed a Tear;

While Grief within ſtill acts a tragick Part,

And plays the Tyrant in the bleeding Heart.

Your Sorrow is of the ſevereſt kind,

And can’t be wholly to your Soul confin’d:

Loſſes like yours, may be allow’d to move

A gen’rous Mind, that knows what ’tis to love.

Who that her innnate Worth had underſtood,

Wou’d not lament a Mother ſo divinely good?

And who, alas! without a Flood of Tears,

Cou’d loſe a Daughter in her blooming Years:

An only Daughter, ſuch a Daughter too,

As did deſerve to be belov’d by you;

Who’d all that cou’d her to the World commend,

A Wit that did her tender Age tranſcend,

Inviting Sweetneſs, and a ſprightly Air,

Looks that had ſomething pleaſingly ſevere,

The Serious and the Gay were mingl’d there:

Theſe merit all the Tears that you have ſhed,

And could Complaints recall them from the Dead,

Could Sorrow their dear Lives again reſtore,

I here with you for ever would deplore:

But ſince th’intenſeſt Grief will prove in vain,

And theſe loſt Bleſſings can’t be yours again,

Recal your wand’ring Reaſon to your Aid,

And hear it calmly when it does perſuade;

’Twill teach you Patience, and the uſeful Skill

To rule your Paſſions, and command your Will;

To bear Afflictions with a ſteady Mind,

Still to be eaſie, pleas’d, and ſtill reſign’d,

And look as if you did no inward Trouble find.

Mar. H2r 99


I know, Lucinda, this I ought to do,

But oh! ’tis hard my Frailties to ſubdue:

My Head-ſtrong Paſſions will Reſiſtance make,

And all my firmeſt Reſolutions ſhake:

I for my Daughter’s Death did long prepare,

And hop’d I ſhou’d the Stroke with Temper bear,

But when it came, Grief quickly did prevail,

And I ſoon found my boaſted Courage fail:

Yet ſtill I ſtrove, but ’twas, alas! in vain,

My Sorrow did at length th’Aſcendant gain:

But I’m reſolv’d I will no longer yield;

By Reaſon led, I’ll once more take the Field,

And there from my inſulting Paſſions try

To gain a full, a glorious Victory:

Which till I’ve done, I never will give o’er,

But ſtill fight on, and think of Peace no more;

With an unweary’d Courage ſtill contend,

Till Death, or Conqueſt, does my Labour end.

The Offering.


Accept, my God, the Praiſes which I bring,

The humble Tribute from a Creature due:

Permit me of thy Pow’r to ſing,

That Pow’r which did ſtupendous Wonders do,

And whoſe Effects we ſtill with awful Rev’rence view:

H2 That H2v 100

That mighty Pow’r which from thy boundleſs Store,

Out of thy ſelf where all things lay,

This beauteous Univerſe did call,

This Great, this Glorious, this amazing All!

And fill’d with Matter that vaſt empty Space,

Where nothing all alone

Had long unrival’d ſat on its triumphant Throne.

See! now in every place

The reſtleſs Atoms play:

Lo! high as Heav’n they proudly ſoar,

And fill the wide-ſtretch’d Regions there;

In Suns they ſhine Above, in Gems Below,

And roll in ſolid Maſſes thro’ the yielding Air:

In Earth compacted, and diffus’d in Seas;

In Corn they nouriſh, and in Flow’rs they pleaſe:

In Beaſts they walk, in Birds they fly,

And in gay painted Inſects croud the Skie:

In Fiſh amid the Silver Waves they ſtray,

And ev’ry where the Laws of their firſt Cauſe obey:

Of them, compos’d with wondrous Art,

We are our ſelves a part:

And on us ſtill they Nutriment beſtow;

To us they kindly come, from us they ſwiftly go,

And thro’ our Veins in Purple Torrents flow.

Vacuity is no where found,

Each Place is full: with bodies we’re encompaſs’d round:

In Sounds they’re to our Ears convey’d,

In fragrant Odors they our Smell delight,

And in Ten thouſand curious Forms display’d,

They entertain our Sight:

In luſcious Fruits our Taſt they court,

And in cool balmy Breezes round us ſport,

The friendly Zephyrs fan our vital Flame,

And H3r 101

And give us Breath to praiſe his holy Name,

From whom our ſelves, and all theſe Bleſſings came.


Receive my Thanks, ’tis all that I can pay,

The whole I can for num’rous Favours give;

Their Number does increaſe each Day,

I ſtill on unexhauſted Bounty live:

My Life, my Health, the Calmneſs of my Mind,

All thoſe Delights I in my Reaſon find,

Thoſe dear Delights which are from all the Dregs of Senſe refin’d,

Are Donatives of Love Divine,

The Benefactor in his Gifts does ſhine:

His boundleſs Goodneſs ſtill it ſelf diſplays,

Still warms with kind refulgent Rays:

In it the whole Creation ſhare;

The whole Creation is his Care:

All Beings upon him depend;

To whatſoe’er he made, ſtill his Regards extend:

Nothing’s ſo high, nor yet ſo low,

As to eſcape his Sight,

He do’s the Wants of all his Creatures know,

And to relieve them is his chief Delight,

A Pleaſure worthy that Almighty Mind,

Whoſe Kindneſs like himſelf is unconfin’d.


Ah! thankleſs Mortals, can’t ſuch wondrous Love,

Inſpire you with a grateful Senſe?

Can’t ſuch amazing Favours move?

Muſt he his Bleſſings unobſerv’d diſpence,

H3 Have H3v 102

Have no Return, no Tribute paid,

No Retributions for ſuch Bounties made?

O think, and bluſhing at his Footſtool fall,

There beg his Pardon, proſtrate lie,

And for Forgiveneſs to his Mercy fly:

Remember ’tis to him you owe your All,

He gives you Pow’r upon himſelf to call:

Should he from you his Aid withdraw,

You quickly wou’d have cauſe to mourn,

And ſighing to your Duſt return:

He is your Strength, your Life, your Light,

He to your jarring Principles gives Law,

And the Deſtroyer Death does awe:

His Angels compaſs you around,

And keep off Ills from the forbidden Ground:

By his Command you’re ever in their Sight,

And made at once their Care, and their Delight:

O quickly then your Gratitude expreſs,

And as becomes you, your Creator bleſs:

Before his Throne melodious Off’rings lay,

And in harmonious Strains your long neglected Homage pay.


I’ll ſtrive with you my Zeal to ſhow,

With you I’ll ſtrive to pay

Some little Part of what I owe:

My ſelf before his Throne I’ll lay,

My ſelf, and all he does on me beſtow:

My Reaſon for him I’ll employ,

And in his Favour place my Joy:

His Favour which to me’s more dear

Than all the tempting Glories here:

My Tongue ſhall ſtill extol his Name,

Shall H4r 103

Shall ſtill his wondrous Works proclaim:

My Mem’ry ſhall his Kindneſſes inrol,

And fix them firmly in my Soul:

From him my Thoughts no more ſhall ſtray,

No more my Paſſions I’ll obey,

No more to the raſh Dictates of my Will give Way,

But ſtill to him, and him alone, a glad Submiſſion pay.


To Love I will my ſelf reſign;

But it ſhall be to Love Divine:

That o’er me ever ſhall preſide,

Shall ev’ry Word, and ev’ry Action guide:

To it I will my ſelf unite,

In it I’ll place my ſole Delight,

And ev’ry meaner Object ſlight;

Till one at laſt with it I grow,

And tir’d with treading this dull Round below,

To its bleſt Source with eager Swiftneſs go;

To its bleſt Source, where conſtant Joys are found,

And where ne’er ending Pleaſures ſpread themſelves around;

Where nothing’s wanting that we can deſire,

Where we to nothing greater can aſpire,

And where e’en Thought it ſelf can ſoar to nothing higher.

H4 The H4v [ 104 ]

The Reſolve.


For what the World admires I’ll wiſh no more,

Nor court that airy nothing of a Name:

Such flitting Shadows let the Proud adore,

Let them be Suppliants for an empty Fame.


If Reaſon rules within, and keeps the Throne,

While the inferior Faculties obey,

And all her Laws without Reluctance own,

Accounting none more fit, more juſt than they.


If Virtue my free Soul unſully’d keeps,

Exempting it from Paſſion and from Stain:

If no black guilty Thoughts diſturb my Sleeps,

And no paſt Crimes my vext Remembrance pain.


If, tho’ I Pleaſure find in living here,

I yet can look on Death without Surprize:

If I’ve a Soul above the Reach of Fear,

And which will nothing mean or ſordid prize.

5. A Soul, H5r 105


A Soul, which cannot be depreſs’d by Grief,

Nor too much rais’d by the ſublimeſt Joy;

Which can, when troubled, give it ſelf Relief,

And to Advantage all its Thoughts employ.


Then am I happy in my humble State,

Altho’ not crown’d with Glory nor with Bays:

A Mind, that triumphs over Vice and Fate,

Eſteems it mean to court the World for Praiſe.



Ceaſe, fair Calistris, ceaſe diſdaining;

’Tis time to leave that uſeleſs Art:

Your Shepherd’s weary of complaining;

Be kind, or he’ll reſume his Heart.


Damon, be gone; I hate complying;

Go court ſome fond, believing Maid:

I take more Pleaſure in denying,

Than in the Conqueſts I have made.

Damon H5v 106


Why, cruel Nymph, why, why ſo ſlighting?

Is this the Treatment I muſt have?

Were not your Beauty ſo inviting,

I wou’d no longer be your Slave.


Damon, begon, I hate complying,

Your Heart’s not worth the having;

Were there Ten thouſand Shepherds dying,

No one were worth the ſaving.

The Inquiry.

A Dialogue between Cleanthe and Mariſſa.


Tell me, Mariſſa, by what Rule

May I judge who’s the greateſt Fool?

Is’t he, that in purſuit of Wealth,

Neglects his Eaſe, neglects his Health,

And void of Reſt, and full of Care,

Becomes a Slave to his next Heir;

To him, who does his Thrift deſpiſe,

And from him with Abhorrence flies:

And when he’s dead, with eager haſte

Will ſoon his ill-got Riches waſte?

Or H6r 107

Or he, who ſeeks in bloody Wars,

For Fame, and honourable Scars?

For Fame, that idle, uſeleſs Toy,

Which Fools can give, and Fools deſtroy!

Or is’t the Man, who dully grave,

Is to his Books a willing Slave?

Who, if he has the Claſſicks read,

And talk’d with all the mighty dead;

Knows the much fam’d Atomick Dance

And all the wondrous Works of Chance;

What Particles form th’ active Fire,

And what the wat’ry Parts require;

Which conſtitute th’Earth, and which th’Air,

Which th’ Æſop’s Form, and which the Fair,

Which make the Fools, and which the Wiſe,

And where the grand Diſtinction lies:

Knows all the Vortices on High,

And all the Worlds that grace the Sky;

Can tell what Men, what Beaſts are there,

And what gay Clothes the Ladies wear;

What their fine airy Heroes do,

And how they fight, and how they woo;

And whether like our Beaux below,

They’re pleas’d with Trifles, Noiſe, and Show,

Full of a ſtiff pedantick Pride,

Does all beſides himſelf deride:

If you ſome Syllables miſplace,

And can’t them to their Fountain trace;

Can’t tell among the Words you ſpeak,

Which are Saxon, French, or Greek,

Which to the Roman Tongue belong,

And which to th’ancient Druid’s Song;

Why Names a diff’rent Senſe have gain’d;

Why ſome are ſhun’d, and ſome retain’d;

And H6v 108

And why, ſince Honeſty’s forgot,

The Title Knave ſhou’d prove a Blot;

Why Tyrant, which paſt Princes us’d,

Shou’d by crown’d Heads be now refus’d;

Thoſe guilteſss Names, which juſter Times

That bluſh’d even at the Thought of Crimes,

And were too gen’rous to abuſe,

Did without Scruple freely uſe:

He’ll with a ſupercilious Air

His ſcornful Thoughts of you declare,

And gravely ſwear that you’re unfit

For the Converſe of Men of Wit.


No, no, ’tis none, ’tis none of theſs;

But you, methinks, ſhou’d gueſs with Eaſe:

Think, Cleanthe, think again,

And you’ll find ſome yet much more vain.


Is it that Ape in Maſquerade,

The Gallant by the Tailor made?

The Man who hid with Snuſh and Hair,

And furniſh’d with a modiſh Air;

Who lately made the Tour of France,

And learnt to talk, to dreſs, and dance;

Who, if he can but neatly write,

And moving Billets Doux indite,

Cares nor for Engliſh, nor for Senſe,

He knows we can with both diſpence?

Or is’t the worthy Country Squire,

Who does himſelf, and’s Wealth admire,

Who hunts, and games, and ſwears, and drinks,

But ſeldom reads, and never thinks,

Who, if he can a Warrant write,

Or but a Mittimus indite;

Can H7r 109

Can in Law-terms harangue the Croud,

Call Names, inſult, and talk aloud.

He ſtruts about, and looks as great,

As if whole Armies he had beat?

Or is it he, who thinks he’s able

To direct a Council Table,

To teach the Senate of the Nation,

And inſtruct the Convocation;

Preſumes to judge what’s fit and right,

And when we ſhou’d, and ſhou’d not fight;

Who can on Machiavel refine,

And thinks his Policy Divine;

Who deſcants on the weekly News,

And can both Dutch and French accuſe;

Find fault with Italy and Spain,

And dares the Swede and Czar arraign;

Th’ Emperor’s Conduct too dares blame,

And thinks the German Diet tame;

Cenſures each State, and full of Pride,

Thinks he the buſie World could guide?

Or is’t the Man who waking dreams

Of Nymphs, and Shades, and Hills, and Streams,

Makes Gods and Goddeſſes deſcend,

And on their Creature Man attend;

Who thro’ th’infernal World dares go,

And does their grieſly Monarch know;

Th’Elyſian Fields diſtinctly view;

Knows what departed Heroes do;

Sees how the Beauties are employ’d,

And what Delights are there enjoy’d:

Then quick as Thought can upward fly,

And view the vaſt expanded Skie;

Sees the Celeſtial Monſters there,

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bear.

Hears H7v 110

Hears Canis bark, and Taurus roar,

With many deaf’ning Noiſes more:

Then makes a Tour from Pole to Pole,

And ſees the threatning Billows roll:

Sees Sea-Gods with their wat’ry Train

Riding in Triumph on the Main:

Thence ſees the Paphian Goddeſs riſe

With tempting Looks, and ſparkling Eyes;

Amid the Waves ſhe ſpreads her Fire,

And does each Breaſt with Love inſpire;

Fair, Amphitrite feels the Heat,

And Neptune does his Vows repeat:

The Nereids ſigh, the Tritons burn,

And each does Glance for Glance return:

Then like the glorious Source of Day,

He does both Eaſt and Weſt ſurvey,

Thro’ ev’ry State, each Kingdom goes,

And all their Laws and Cuſtoms knows,

And which are Wits, and which are Fools,

Who bred in Wilds, and who in Schools;

Who with a courtly Neatneſs treat,

And who like Beaſts devour their Meat:

And who of this vaſt Knowledge proud,

Looks with Diſdain upon the Croud,

And thinks he has a juſt Pretence

To the Monopoly of Senſe:

If’s Thoughts he ſmoothly can expreſs,

And put them in a florid Dreſs,

Can to a Poet’s Name pretend,

And laſh a Vice, or praiſe a Friend,

Thinks he’s as happy and as great

As if he fill’d th’Imperial Seat;

And ſtill averſe to Gold and Cares,

The Badges of the Muſes wears,

And H8r 111

And is as fond of being poor,

As others of their boaſted Store?


I’ll tell you, ſince you can’t diſcover,

It is an awkard, whining Lover;

Who talks of Chains, of Flames and Paſſion,

And all the pretty Words in Faſhion;

Words, which are ſtill as true a Mark

Of an accompliſh’d modiſh Spark,

As a long Wig, or powder’d Coat:

Like A, B, C, they’re learnt by rote;

And then with equal Ardor ſaid,

Or to the Miſtreſs, or the Maid:

An Animal for Sport deſign’d,

Both very tame, and very kind:

Who for a Smile his Soul would give,

And can whole Months on Glances live:

Who ſtill a Slave is to your Will,

And whom you with a Frown may kill:

Who at your Feet whole Days will lie,

And watch the Motions of your Eye:

Will kiſs your Hand, and fawn, and ſwear,

That you, and none but you, are fair;

And if he ſees that you’re inclin’d

At length his humble ſuit to mind,

He then all Exstaſie will prove,

Is all Delight, and Joy, and Love:

But if you ſhou’d a Look miſplace,

Or any favour’d Rival grace,

He full of Rage, and of Deſpair,

Nor him, nor you, nor Heav’n, will ſpare,

But challenges the happy Man,

Who whips him thro’ the Lungs, and then

While he is bleeding, begs your pity,

In H8v 112

In ſtrains ſo moving, ſoft and witty;

That they your Heart at length muſt move

To ſome Remorſe, if not to Love,

Which he ſoon gueſſes by your Eyes,

And in an amorous Rapture dies.

The Choice.

A Dialogue between Emilia and Mariſſa.


Virtue ſure’s th’ only Treaſure,

Th’ only ſolid laſting Pleaſure:

It does our Souls, our Thoughts refine,

And gives us Joys almoſt Divine.

It may a while obſcur’d remain,

But ſoon its Luſtre will regain;

Like Phœbus chaſe the Shades away,

And bring again triumphant Day:

Cenſures like Clouds ſometimes appear,

And keep its Rays from ſhining clear:

But having reach’d Meridian Height,

They fly before its conqu’ring Light;

Before that Light whoſe glorious Blaze

Does trembling guilty Souls amaze,

And from its dazling Seat on high

Diſperſes Splendor thro’ the Skie:

Pale Envy ſickens at the Sight,

And full of Shame, and full of Spite,

To I1r 113

To the dark nether World returns,

And there, her Diſappointment mourns:

But oh! my deareſt Friend, I find

That Malice ſtill is left behind:

Alas! that Fury never ſleeps,

But thro’ the World ſtill ſlily creeps,

Each Day a new Diſguiſe ſhe takes,

Each Day ſome diff’rent Figure makes:

Like Zeal and Pity ſhe appears,

And drown’d in falſe diſſembling Tears,

Often the Mask of Friendſhip wears,

And with a Shew of Love inſnares,

On me ſhe’s bent to wreak her Spite,

And with her dire Attacks affright:

From her to this Receſs I fled,

And here my Life obſcurely led;

Suppoſing She with Crouds wou’d ſtay,

Or with the Great, the Rich, the Gay,

With the Young, the Fair, the Wiſe,

And me, poor worthleſs me, deſpiſe;

But now too late, alas! I find

She will not, will not ſtay behind,


Since Virtue’s ſeated in her Breaſt,

Mariſſa ne’er can be diſtreſt:

Malice may you perhaps aſſail,

But never, never can prevail:

Fortune too may take her part,

Exert her Strength, and ſhew her Art;

With theſe the Vicious may combine,

And favour their unjuſt Deſign;

But Virtue will the Shock ſuſtain,

And you’ll unvanquiſh’d ſtill remain:

I Your I1v 114

Your inward Joys will be ſecure,

And you’ll no Loſe, nor Ill endure.


Virtue has, ever had my Love,

And ſtill my Choice my Guide shall prove;

To me ſhall ſtill point out the Way,

Until I reach eternal Day,

That dear, that welcome, bliſsful Shore

Where I ſhall never ſuffer more;

No more the Toils of Life ſuſtain,

but live ſecure from Sin and Pain.

Hark! hark! I’m call’d! I’m call’d away!

I cannot, will not, longer ſtay:

My Guardian Angel ſee appear,

See! ſee! he cuts the yielding Air:

Celeſtial Muſick ſweetly plays,

I hear! I hear Seraphick Lays!

O! the ſoft enchanting Sound!

Nothing here’s ſo charming found!

Adieu, vain World, vain World, adieu:

I come, ye bleſt! I come to you!

Fortune’s Gifts I ne’er could prize,

And now her Trifles I deſpiſe:

If at my Feet her Bounties lay,

And Crowns were ſcatter’d in my Way,

I’d ſcorn ’em all, and onward go;

There’s nothing tempting here below.


O! ſtay my Friend! O! ſtay for me,

I ſtill will your Companion be:

My Love to Virtue, Love to you,

Was ever ſtrong, and ever true;

And ſtill the ſame ſhall ever prove;

Nothing my fixt Reſolves ſhall move.

The I2r 115

The Sun may ſooner ceaſe to ſhine,

And it may freeze beneath the Line;

Mountains may ſink, and Plains may riſe,

Beaſts chuſe the Seas, and Fiſh the Skies;

Birds their lov’d airy Region leave,

And flatt’ring Men no more deceive,

Than my Mariſſa ſhall e’er find

Emilia faithleſs, or unkind:

O! do not then her ſuit diſdain,

O! let her not implore in vain:

She longs, ſhe longs with you to die;

Thus, Hand in Hand we’ll upward fly;

Thus, thus, my beſt, my deareſt Friend,

Thus, thus embracing we’ll aſcend.


No, thou lov’d Darling of my Heart,

We’ll never, never, never part:

Thoſe Virtues which our Souls combine,

Shall ever in our Union ſhine:

Together we’ll lay down our Clay,

Together throw the Load away;

And bright as Fire, and light as Air,

To the ſuperior World repair;

To glorious Seats, and Realms Divine,

Where Love do’s in Perfection ſhine:

Love undiſguis’d, without alloy,

Noble, pure, and full of Joy,

Sincere, and ſtrong, and ſtill the ſame,

One ſteady, bright, immortal Flame:

There, there our Friendſhip we’ll improve,

Together taſt the Sweets of Love;

Still in each other’s Bliſs rejoice,

And prove one Soul, one Thought, one Voice;

In nothing ever diſagree,

Throughout a bleſt Eternity.

I2 The I2v [ 116 ]

The Fifteenth Pſalm Paraphras’d.

Who. on thy Holy Hill, my God, ſhall reſt,

And be with everlaſting Pleaſures bleſt?

The Man who blameleſs is, and ſtill ſincere,

And who no Judge do’s but his Conſcience fear:

Whoſe Practice is a Tranſcript of thy Law,

And whom thy Omnipreſence keeps in awe:

Who ſpeaks the Truth, and wou’d much ſooner die,

Than owe his Life to the loath’d Refuge of a Lie.

Whoſe Soul is free from Falſhood and Deſign,

And in whoſe Words Integrity do’s ſhine:

Who ſcorns to flatter, and by little Arts

To purchaſe Treaſures, or inveagle Hearts:

Who to his Neighbour has no Miſchief done,

Do’s ſpiteful Actions with Abhorrence ſhun,

And cannot be to what’s Inhuman won:

Who thinks the beſt, and none will e’er defame,

But as his own, preſerves another’s Name:

Who’s ever humble, and is ſtill inclin’d

T’inſpect himſelf, and his own Failings find:

Who loves Reproofs, and a Reſpect do’s pay

To thoſe who kindly guide him in his Way,

Who loves the Good, thoſe who to Virtue true,

Its Dictates always cheerfully purſue;

And a Regard for Honour in their Actions ſhew:

Who when he ſwears, true to his Oath will prove,

And whom nor Fear, nor Int’reſt e’er can move,

(No, not tho’ it to’s Prejedice ſhould be,)

To diſappoint his greateſt Enemy:

Much I3r 117

Much leſs, tho’ to his Ruin it ſhould tend,

Once to deceive a kind confiding Friend:

Who bravely avaricious Thoughts diſdains,

And is a Stranger to baſe ſordid Gains:

Who’d rather ſtarve, than th’Innocent betray,

Or to baſe undermining Thoughts give way:

He who lives thus, who this his Buſ’neſs makes,

And never once the Paths of Life forſakes,

Like ſome ſtrong Tow’r unſhaken ſhall remain,

And all the Batteries of Fate ſuſtain.

One of Lucian’s Dialogues of the Dead Paraphraſd.


O Pollux, when

thou next reviſit’ſt Light,

Menippus to theſe nether Realms invite;

Tell him, if he’s not tir’d with Fools above,

Where all that’s ſaid, and done, his Mirth does move,

He’ll here fit Subjects for his Laughter find,

New Scenes of Madneſs to divert his Mind:

For tho’ blind Mortals no Ideas have

Or any thing beyond the ſilent Grave,

But vainly fancy, as their Toil and Care,

So too their Souls find equal Periods there,

And all the diſlodg’d Atoms mingle with the Air.

Yet here are no ſuch impious Scepticks found,

Each Place does with complaining Ghoſts abound:

He ſure with me would full of Wonder gaze

On mighty Men whoſe glorious Acts amaze,

I3 Who I3v 118

Who conquer’d Kingdoms, and who Thrones did grace,

And left their Sceptres to their God-like Race,

Here, undiſtinguiſh’d from the meaneſt Shade,

Depriv’d of Grandeur, and by none obey’d:

They by no other marks can now be known,

But Sighs, and Groans, and ſad Complaints alone:

But bid him with him ſome Proviſions bring,

A Cruſt were here a Preſent for a King:

He’ll here find nothing Nature to ſuſtain,

Throughout the vaſt Extent of this dark empty Plain.


I’ll readily perform what you deſire;

But tell me where I ſhall for him inquire;

Deſcribe his Perſon, Humor, and Attire.


He’s old and jolly, and to Bacchus kind,

To Fools averſe, to Satire ſtill inclin’d:

A Cloak he wears the pooreſt Wretch wou’d ſcorn,

And which Ten thouſand Patches wretchedly adorn:

At Athens, or at Cornith him you’ll find,

Lampooning the whole Race of Human Kind:

He ſtrikes at all, both th’ Ugly and the Fair,

Nor Young, nor Old, nor yet the Great does ſpare,

But on Philoſophers is moſt ſevere:

Their vain Pretences, and their towring Flights,

Their myſtick Terms, and all thoſe little Slights,

By which they ſtrive their Ignorance to hide,

Thoſe Cobweb Cov’rings for their nauſeous Pride,

Are ſtill the Subjects which his Laughter move

The chief Diverſion that he finds above.


By this Deſcription he’ll with eaſe be known:

But is your Meſſage ſent to him alone?

Can I4r 119

Can you not think of ſomething that is fit

To be deliver’d to thoſe Men of Wit,

Thoſe high Pretenders to gigantick Senſe,

To boundleſs Knowledge, matchleſs Eloquence?


Bid them lay all their vain Diſputes aſide,

No longer Truth from their Diſciples hide:

No more thro’ Nature’s puzling Labyrinths ſtray,

No more of her myſterious Motions ſay:

No more with an affected haughty Air,

Their Thoughts of Things beyond their reach delare,

Things far remote from the moſt piercing Sight,

Beyond the Ken of intellectual Light.


Such a Diſcourſe as this wou’d not be born,

’Twou’d both expoſe me to their Hate, and Scorn:

They’ll gravely tell me, I my Ign’rance ſhow,

And rail at what I want the Senſe to know.


Tell them from me th’important Meſſage came;

’Tis I their Pride and Ignorance proclaim:

I bid them with Remorſe paſt Follies view,

And their Repentance by their Bluſhes ſhew.


I with exacteſt Care your Order will obey,

Without being mov’d at what the noiſie Boaſters ſay.


When this is done, then to the Great repair,

And ſpeak to them with a comanding Air:

Say, What ye mad Men, makes you thus in vain,

To heap up Honours, and increaſe your Train,

As if you here for ever ſhou’d remain?

I4 Riches I4v 120

Riches and Grandeur do but load the Mind,

And they are Trifles you muſt leave behind:

Naked and poor, you to the Shades muſt go,

Only Deſpair will ſtay with you below:

The more you’ve now, the more you will lament,

When you from all your Pomp, and all your Joys are sent.

Next to th’Effeminate Megilbus go,

And let the brawny Damoxenus know

That none below are handſom, ſtrong, or brave;

All are meer Phantoms when they’re paſt the Grave:

None here their Youth and boaſted Charms retain,

None here the fam’d Olympick Prizes gain:

No killing Eyes bewitching Glances dart,

No flowing Treſſes win an amorous Heart:

No bluſhing Cheeks, not one inticing Smile,

Can here be ſeen th’unwary to beguile:

Nothing is lovely, nothing pleaſing here,

Nothing but Duſt and Aſhes does appear.


This I with Speed, and with Delight will do,

Since ’tis a Meſſage worthy me, and you.


Inform the Poor, of whom vaſt Crouds you’ll ſee,

That here they’ll find a juſt Equality;

Tell ’em, they’ll here unhappy Partners find,

Afflictions are not to one State confin’d:

Millions of Suff’rers throng the Stygian shore,

And there for ever will their Fate deplore,

Then bid them to complain and weep no more;

Since none will here their former Pomp retain,

But on a humble Level all remain:

None here will richer, greater, happier live,

No flatt’ring Titles to each other give:

No I5r 121

No Room is left for Av’rice, or for Pride,

Where Poverty and Death, and dreadful Night reſide.

And then from me, degen’rate Sparta blame,

Tell them they’ve tarniſh’d their once glorious Fame;

They now no longer breath that Martial Heat,

Which made them once ſo formidably Great.


Such Words as theſe, Diogenes, forbear,

I can’t with Patience ſuch Reproaches hear:

My Country’s Honour, as my own, I prize,

And cou’d for it my Share of Life deſpiſe.

All your Commands, but this, without Delay

I’ll e’er to morrow Night with Care obey.


’Tis kindly ſaid; I will no more deſire:

May Hermes his perſuaſive Skill inſpire,

And may your Voice be ſweet as th’Orphean Lyre.

That liſt’ning Mortals, by your Precepts taught,

May to the Knowledge of their Faults be brought,

Reclaim’d from Ill, and made themſelves to know:

A Leſſon they too late will learn below!

To the Queen’s moſt Excellent Majesty.

When Heav’n deſigns ſome wondrous Prince to raiſe,

Deſerving Empire and eternal Praiſe;

It chuſes one of an illuſtrious Line,

In whom Hereditary Graces ſhine:

Who I5v 122

Who good and great by his Deſcent is made,

And by the Rules of native Honour ſway’d:

Him it expoſes to th’ Inſults of Fate,

To all the Blows of Malice and of Hate,

Before it raiſes him to an exalted State.

The pious Trojan, its peculiar Care,

Did num’rous Hardſhips, num’rous Trials bear;

Ten thouſand Toils with Patience he ſuſtain’d,

Before he undiſturb’d in Latium reign’d:

To pains inur’d, with Diſappointments croſt,

Wan’dring thro’ Flames, on mounting Surges toſt:

Suff’rings and War to Grandeur led the Way,

And fitted him for independent Sway.

Happy that People whoſe bleſt Monarch owes

Unto himſelf the Wiſdom which he ſhows,

Whoſe Prudence from his own Experience flows.

Who has in Shades ſeen dark’ning Vapors riſe,

And gloomy Horrors over’caſt the Skies:

Neglected liv’d in ſome obſcure Retreat,

And learnt in ſecret to be truly great;

To rule within, his Paſſions to ſubdue,

And all his Souls moſt hidden Movements view:

Thoſe Springs of Thought, which when they are refin’d

Beſtow a dazling Brightneſs on the Mind:

Who diſengag’d from Buſ’neſs and from Noiſe,

To nobleſt Purpoſes his Hours employs:

Searches paſt Records, and with vaſt Delight

Preſents fam’d Heroes to his raviſh’d Sight:

Sees them the ſhining Paths of Honour tread,

By Praiſe puſh’d on, and daring Courage led:

With eag’reſt Haſt to lofty Heights aſcend,

And their Renown beyond the Grave extend:

Sees I6r 123

Sees pious Kings with Joy and Zeal obey’d,

And cheerful Homage to wiſe Princes paid:

Who’re ſtill the Objects of a filial Love,

Whom all admire, whoſe Actions all approve.

Such was that Virgin Glory of our Iſle,

On whom Apollo long was pleas’d to ſmile:

Who was with Wiſdom and with Science bleſs’d,

By ev’ry Muſe, and ev’ry Grace careſs’d:

She knew Afflictions, felt a Siſter’s Hate,

And learnt to reign, while in a private State;

By adverſe Fortune taught her ſelf to know,

That Knowledge chiefly requiſite below.

And ſuch the Queen who now the Throne does grace,

The brighteſt Glory of her Royal Race:

In whoſe rich Veins the nobleſt Blood does flow

That God-like Kings, and Heroes could beſtow:

Like her ſhe bravely ſtood the Shock of Fate,

And liv’d ſerene in a dependent State:

Bore unconcern’d the Calumnies of thoſe

Whom their Ill-nature only made her Foes:

Who thought her Merit too divinely bright,

And ſtrove t’eclipſe the overflowing Light:

Merit, in narrow Minds does Envy raiſe,

Large gen’rous Souls are moſt inclin’d to Praiſe.

Like her ſhe ſtem’d the dang’rous ſwelling Tide,

And ſoar’d aloft with a becoming Pride:

Like her a gen’ral Approbation found,

And was with joyful Acclamations crown’d:

Ev’n Heav’n it ſelf her Unction did approve,

And by auſpicious Omens ſhew’d its Love:

Refreſhing Breezes fan’d the balmy Air,

The fertile Earth a florid Green did wear:

No I6v 124

No Clouds obſcur’d the Sun’s refulgent Light,

He never ſhone more eminently bright:

All things conſpir’d her Welcom to proclaim,

Who the Protectreſs of her People came,

By Heav’n deſign’d, and her propitious Fate,

To be the Bulwark of a tott’ring State.

Britannia now all glorious does ariſe,

And ſhoots her Head above the ſtarry Skies:

Her ſacred Guardian, all the Sons of Light,

With Shouts of Joy behold the pleaſing Sight:

The liſt’ning Goddeſs hears the cheerful Sound,

From Hill to Hill, from Vale to Vale rebound:

On all her Plumes at once, ſublime ſhe flies,

At once employs her num’rous Tongues and Eyes:

To diſtant Lands our Happineſs makes known;

Tells them a Heroin fills the Britiſh Throne:

A Heroin greater than Romance can frame,

And worthy of the Line from whence ſhe came;

In whom the Great and Brave, the Soft and Kind,

In One are by the firmeſt Ties combin’d:

Where nothing’s wanting that we can deſire,

And where we ſee each Minute ſomething to admire.

The trembling Nations aw’d by Gallick Arms,

Imploring come, drawn by reſiſtleſs Charms:

To her they ſue, and beg from her Relief;

She looks with God-like Pity on their Grief:

Exerts her Pow’r, and makes th’ Iberian Shore;

The Spaniards hear her murth’ring Canon roar?

Her Fleet dilates a panick Terror round,

And Britiſh Valor’s once more dreadful found:

Her Troops deſcend with noble Ardor fir’d,

By Heav’n, and their Heroick Queen inſpir’d:

In I7r 125

In vain they ſtrive their darling Gold to ſave,

What can reſiſt the Daring and the Brave?

Thoſe Sons of War thro’ Dangers force their Way,

And from the Dragons ſnatch the ſhining Prey:

Fame ſpreads the News thro’ all th’incircling Air;

Aloud proclaims the Triumphs of the Fair:

The drooping Eagles prune their Wings and riſe,

With joyful Haſte they cut the ſounding Skies;

Secure once more of that auſpicious Fate

Which on them did ſo many Ages wait:

The Belgick Lion caſts his Fear away,

And with new Strength purſures the deſtin’d Prey:

All the Diſtreſt with Raptures of Delight,

In ſweeteſt Songs of grateful Praiſe unite:

Bleſt Albion’s Queen their only Theme does prove;

Like Pallas ſprung from all-commanding Jove,

She comes, they ſing, to give us timely Aid,

Is kind, and wiſe, as that celeſtial Maid:

As able to adviſe, and to defend,

And does her Care to ev’ry Part extend:

Like Phœbus darts reviving Beams of Light,

And diſſipates the Horrors of the Night.

O that I cou’d the beſt of Queens attend;

Cou’d at your Feet my coming Moments end:

I paſt Misfortunes ſhou’d not then deplore,

And preſent Evils wou’d afflict no more:

But fill’d with Joy, with Tranſport, and with Love,

My Hours wou’d in a bliſsful Circle move:

And I the nobleſt Buſ’neſs ſtill wou’d chuſe,

Both for my ſelf, and my ambitious Muſe,

Be ſtill employ’d in Service, and in Praiſe,

In glad Attendance, and in grateful Lays,



of the
Three Children

Thus wing’d with Praiſe, we penetrate the Skie, Teach Clouds and Stars to praiſe him as we fly; The whole Creation, by our Fall made groan, His Praiſe to Echo, and ſuſpend their Moan. For, that he reigns all Creatures ſhould rejoice, And we with Songs ſupply their want of Voice. The Church triumphant, and the Church below In Songs of Praiſe their preſent Union ſhow: Their Joys are full, our Expectation long; In Life we differ, tho’ we join in Song. Angels and we, aſſiſted by this Art, May ſing together, tho’ we dwell apart. Waller.
Benedicite omnia Opera Domini Domino.
I8v K1r

The Preface.

The retir’d Life I live in the Country, affording me much Leiſure, I thought I could not employ it more advantageouſly, or to better purpoſe, than in Paraphraſing the Hymn of the Three Children; which I think to be a very fit Subject for a Pindarick Ode, becauſe it Comprehends all the Works of Nature, and excites not only Angels and Men, the nobleſt and moſt exaltted Parts of the Creation, but alſo Brutes, Plants, and inanimate Beings, to pay a grateful Tribute of Praiſe to their bountiful Creator.

The Reaſon why I chuſe this ſort of Verſe, is, becauſe it allows me the Liberty of running into large Digreſſions, gives a great Scope to the Fancy, and frees me from the trouble of tying my ſelf up to the stricter Rules of other Poetry.

K How K1v

How theſe Verſes will pleaſe I know not, neither am I very ſolicitous about it. I writ ’em with no other deſign than that of exerciſing and enlarging my Thoughts, and of heightning and refining thoſe Ideas which I had already fram’d, of the infinite Goodneſs, Wiſdom, and Power of God, to whoſe Service I think my ſelf oblig’d to devote my Time, my Faculties, and all that ſmall Stock of Underſtanding which it has pleas’d his Divine Goodneſs to beſtow upon me.

I have in this Poem taken the liberty to mention ſome Notions which are not generally receiv’d, but they being only Matters of Speculation, and not Articles of Faith, I thought I might be permitted to make uſe of them as often as I pleas’d. Among theſe, is the Doctrine of Pre-exiſtence , which ſuppoſes, that all Souls were created in the beginning of Time, before any material Beings had their Exiſtence, and that they being united to Ætherial Bodies, were made Poſſeſſors of as much Happineſs as they were capable of enjoying. From their ſublime Station, and Bliſs unexpreſſibly great, being by the Solicitation of their lower Faculties, unhappily drawn to a Love of Pleaſure, and by K2r by adhering too much to the Delights of the Body, enervating and leſſening the Activity and Strength of their nobleſt and moſt perfect Powers, which proportionably abated, as the other increas’d, they ſunk by degrees into an Aerial State , from whence, ſuch as by repeated Acts of Diſobedience, and the too eager Gratification of their ſenſitive Appetites, are render’d unfit for the Exerciſe of their more exalted Faculties (which by diſuſe, being almoſt laid aſleep, and the Senſitive ones being quite tir’d by too long Exerciſes) fall lower yet, and lie in a State of Silence and Inactivity, till they are awaken’d into Life in ſuch Bodies as by their previous Diſpoſitions they are fitted for: So that no ſooner is there any Matter of due vital Temper prepar’d, but preſently a Soul that is ſuitable to ſuch a Body, is ſent into it. This is, according to the Notion I have of it, a true, tho’ ſhort Account of that Hypotheſis, which has not only been aſserted by Plato and his Diſciples , by the Pythagoreans , the Jewiſh Rabbins , and ſome of the Fathers, but alſo by ſeveral modern Writers, Men of Wit and Learning, and by others as much decry’d. Its Advocates tell us, that ’tis contrary to the K2 Idea K2v Idea we have of the Juſtice and Goodneſs of God, to believe that he would condemn innocent Spirits, ſuch as had never committed any Sin, nor done any thing that could juſtly Occaſion their forfeiting his Favour, to ſuch Bodies as muſt unavoidably rob them of their Native Purity, and render them obnoxious to his Wrath, and its dredful Conſequence, eternal Puniſhment. Thoſe who will not allow this Hypotheſis to be probable, ſay among other things, that had we liv’d in a Pre-exiſtent State, ’tis very likely we ſhould ſtill have ſome Remembrance of our paſt Felicity, and retain a Conſciouſneſs of our paſt Actions, and that to believe that God will puniſh us for Faults which we have wholly forgotten, is not agreeable to thoſe Sentiments it becomes us to entertain, of his infinite Juſtice and Goodneſs. The Sacred Scripture tells us, that at the great Day, when every one ſhall receive according to his Works, the Secrets of all Hearts ſhall be laid open, the Sentence ſhall be juſtified by the Conſciouſneſs all Perſons ſhall have, that they themſelves in whatſoever Bodies they appear, or what Subſtances ſoever that Conſciouſneſs adheres to, are the ſame that committedmitted K3r mitted thoſe Actions, and deſerve that Puniſhment. And methinks ’tis highly rational to conclude, that, that way of proceeding which the infinitely Juſt and Merciful God will then make uſe of, has always been practis’d by him, as being moſt ſuitable to his adorable Perfections, and the unalterable Rectitude of his Divine Nature. But, yet I dare not rely ſo much on my own Judgment, as to preſume to paſs any Cenſure on an Opinion which has had the good Fortune to be eſpous’d by ſuch a Crowd of ancient and modern Authors, Men of great depth of Thought, and ſolid Learning. To me ’tis indifferent which is true, as long as I know I am by the Laws of Poetry allow’d the Liberty of chuſing that which I think will ſound moſt gracefully in Verſe.

In Paraphraſing that part of the Hymn which mentions the Stars, I have made uſe of the Carteſian Hypotheſis , that the Fixt Stars are Suns, and each the Center of a Vortex; which I am willing to believe, becauſe it gives me a noble and ſublime Idea of the Univerſe, and makes it appear infinitely larger, fuller, more magnificent, and every way worthier of its great Artificer. We know very little of our K3 ſelves, K3v ſelves, leſs of the World we inhabit: And of thoſe few things with which we pretend to be fully acquainted, we have but very imperfect and confus’d Notions. This Earth on which we live, and which by being divided into ſo many mighty Empires, and ſpacious Kingdoms appears ſo vastly big to our imagination, is but a Point, a Nothing, if compar’d with the other Parts of the Univerſe: How numerous are thoſe huge Globes which roll over our Heads! And how many more may there be in thoſe boundleſs Spaces above us, which we cannot poſſibly diſcover! And yet ſome are ſo vain, or rather ſo arrogant, as to ſuppoſe, that thoſe glorious Orbs were made wholly for our Uſe; doubtleſs the wiſe Author of Nature deſign’d them for nobler Purpoſes than to give us Light and Heat, to regulate and diverſifie our Seaſons, and render our Nights agreeable: ’Tis highly probable that as many of them are Suns, ſo others are habitable Worlds, and fill’d with Beings infinitely ſuperior to us; ſuch as may have greater Perfections both of Soul and Body, and be by the Excellency of their Nature, fitted for much more rational and ſublime Employments.

My K4r

My Lord Roſcommon tells us a great Truth in his excellent Eſſay on tranſlated Verſe, when he ſays, that, Pride, (of all others the moſt dangerous Fault,)Proceeds from want of Senſe, and want of Thought. For did we but accuſtom our ſelves to think, and employ our Time in endeavouring to paſs a true and impartial Judgment on things, we ſhould quickly have humbler thoughts of our ſelves, and be ready to own, that what we falſely call Knowledge, upon a ſtrict and ſevere enquiry, proves to be nothing but Conjecture. We are very much in the Dark, and the greateſt part of our time is ſpent in the purſuit of Shadows; but when Death draws up the Curtain, we ſhall have a full, clear, and diſtinct view of all thoſe amazing Scenes, of which we can hardly now be truly ſaid to have ſo much as a tranſient Glimps. The whole Oeconomy of Nature will then be viſible to us, and we ſhall know the Truth of thoſe things about which we now ſo eagerly and K4 vainly K4v vainly diſpute: In the mean time, it becomes us with profound Humility and an entire Submiſſion to acquieſce in, and yield a full aſſent to all thoſe Divine Truths which the infinitely Wiſe God hath vouchſaf’d to reveal to us; but in all other things to ſuſpend our Belief, and make it our Buſineſs to avoid being impos’d on, either by our ſelves or others; which we cannot otherwiſe prevent, but by endeavouring to gain a generous Liberty of Mind, a large and univerſal Spirit, a Soul free from popular Prejudices, and a meek and teachable Temper.

I fear, what I have written of the Formation of the Earth will not pleaſe an Age ſo accurate, ſo inquiſtive and knowing as this wherein we live: But ’tis not reaſonable to expect that a Woman ſhould be nicely skill’d in Phyſicks: We are kept Strangers to all ingenious and uſeful studies, and can have but a ſlight and ſuperficial Knowledge of things: But if any thing in that Part of the Poem which mentions the Creation of the World, is thought to be contradictory to the receiv’d Principles of Philoſophy, or the Moſaick Account of the Creation, I ſhall readily acknowledge my Errour, K5r Errour, and take it as a Favour to be better inform’d: I know but one particular which relates to this Matter, that is liable to Exception, and that is, my ſuppoſing the Face of the Ante-diluvian Earth to be ſmooth, regular and uniform, without Mountains or Hills. This, I know, is with great appearance of Reaſon, deny’d by the learned Mr. Ray , but ſince ’tis aſſerted by both ancient and modern Writers, particularly by the ingenious Dr. Burnet , in his Theory of the Earth, and ſince Mountains are not mention’d in Scripture till the Water was riſen to its utmoſt height, I thought in a Pindarick Ode, I might chuſe which Opinion I wou’d, without troubling my ſelf, nicely to examine all the Reaſons that might be given for each. The like Apology I may make for my ſelf, in reference to what I have ſaid of a new habitable Earth, the Pleaſures of a happy Millennium, and the Reſidence of ſeparate Spirits before their re-union with their Bodies at the general Reſurrection, and the Conſummation of their Bliſs in the Enjoyment of the Beatifick Viſion; of each of which, learned Men have entertain’d very different Sentiments, and which of them are in the right God only knows; K5v knows; ’tis not becoming ſuch weak-ſighted Creatures as we are to be too poſitive, nor to rely too much on our own Judgment: Theſe, and things of the like Nature, are part of the Divine Arcana; Myſteries which we ſhould be contented to view at an awful Diſtance, and not preſume to prophane by too near an Approach.

But I ſhould quite tire my Reader, as well as my ſelf, if I ſhould make a Defence for every thing that needs it in this Poem: therefore to avoid giving either him, or my ſelf any uneceſſary Trouble, I will only mention one Particular, and ſo conclude, and that is, the Freedom I take to adviſe the Clergy: I beg them to do me the Juſtice to believe, that I would not have aſſum’d ſo great a Boldneſs, had not my Subject led me to it: ’Tis impoſſible for any Perſon to have a greater Honour for them than I have; and I am ready to own to all the World, that I believe the Church of England was never bleſs’d with a more Learned, Orthodox, and Ingenious Clergy than now; Perſons who make doing Good the Buſineſs of their Lives, who have no other Deſign, no other Aim, but that of imitating their great Maſter, and making themſelves ſhining Examples of Piety and Virtue:tue: K6r tue: Such among them as anſwer this Character, will not, I hope, miſconſtrue my Words, and take that ill, which I’m ſure is well deſign’d. The pretending to be religious, the being bigotted to a Party, the placing Devotion either in a ſtrict and nice Obſervance of the Punctilios of Publick Worſhip, or in a flying from, and an abhorrence of eſtabliſh’d Forms, will not give us an Intereſt in the Divine Favour, or entitle us to a future Reward: All vicious Extremes muſt be avoided, all Violences and Heats, all uncharitable Cenſures, all Dependances on external Performances, all Diſputes about trivial unneceſſary Matters, about things in themſelves indifferent, which being no Eſſentials of Worſhip, may be us’d, or not us’d without Sin, and are no longer Obligatory than they are made ſo by the Sanction of a Law, and the great, the indiſpenſable Duties of Life made our Buſineſs. We ſhould ſtudy to be really good, as well as to appear ſo; and be more concern’d ito approve our ſelves to God, and our own Conſciences, than to the World: We ought to conſider, that the inward Applauſes of the Mind, carry with them the trueſt, the higheſt Satisfaction, and that nothing can K6v can be more acceptable to the Deity, than a holy blameleſs Converſation, a ſpotleſs Innocency, a true ſubſtantial Integrity, a ſteady unſhaken Honeſty, a firm unbyaſs’d Juſtice, a conſtant un-yielding Temperance, an humble, ſincere, undeſigning, compaſſionate, and forgiving Temper: In a word, a Life regulated by the Divine Precepts, and govern’d by an inward Principle, not by a ſlaviſh Fear, a Dread of Puniſhment, or the Proſpect only of a future Recompence, but from an innate Love of Virtue, an ardent Deſire of being united to the ſupreme Good, and of imitating all his communicable Perfections. From what I have ſaid, I would not have it thought, that I am an Enemy to outward Obſervances, to publick Demonſtrations of Reverence: I aſſure my Reader, I am ſo far from being guilty of a Fault of that kind, that I think I may truly ſay, none can be more conformable to the Cermonies of the Church than I am: I look on them as decent Significations of Zeal, as neceſſary Helps to raiſe our Devotion: All that I aim at is, to prove, that external Teſtimonies of Reſpect and Homage will be of little uſe, unleſs they are join’d with internal Honours, and an univerſal Obedience: unleſs K7r unleſs the Mind is purify’d, the Will intirely ſubjected to the Divine Pleaſure, and all our Paſſions, Affections, and Appetites devoted and conſecrated to the Service of God: There muſt be an inſeparable Union, an inviolable Agreement between them; and we may aſſure our ſelves, there will be ſo in all ſuch as by a conſtant Contemplation of the Divine Nature, of his infinite, amazing, and adorable Excellencies, and of their own Imperfections, Weakneſſes, and Defects, have fram’d in their Minds awful, noble, and reverential Ideas of him, and have by ſuch ſublime Exerciſes, rais’d their Souls above the little Concerns of Earth, the trifling Amuſements of a worthleſs deceitful World. But it being a Truth too well known to be deny’d, that the generality of Mankind have falſe Notions of Religion, and are apt to fancy if they devote themſelves to the Worſhip of God, and employ a conſiderable part of their Time in his Service, if they can talk plauſibly, devoutly, and warmly for the Perſuaſion they eſpouſe, and ſtrongly calumniate, and abuſively ridicule thoſe whoſe Opinions are contrary to theirs, ’tis no matter what their Morals are; whether they are virtuous,tuous, K7v tuous, honeſt, temperate, ſincere, and charitable. ’Tis ſuch as theſe I beg them to inſtruct: and I think they cannot do the Church a greater Service, or employ themſelves in any thing more worthy their ſacred Character, than in aſſuring theſe hypocritical Pretenders to Piety, that ’tis not Talking, but Living well, not the being of this or that Denomination, of this or that Sect or Party, that will make them eternally happy; but the being exactly conformable to thoſe Divine Rules which are preſcribed in the Holy Scriptures, thoſe unerring Precepts, of which that ſacred Volume is full.

The K8r [ 1 ]

The Song of the Three Children Paraphras’d.


Ascend my Soul, and in a ſpeedy Flight

Haſte to the Regions of eternal Light;

Look all around, each dazling Wonder view,

And thy Acquaintance with paſt Joys renew.

Thro’ all th’ Æthereal Plain extend thy Sight,

On ev’ry pleaſing Object gaze;

On rolling Worlds below,

On Orbs which Light and Heat beſtow:

And thence to their firſt Cauſe thy Admiration raiſe

In ſprightly Airs, and ſweet harmonious Lays.

Aſſiſt me, all ye Works of Art Divine,

Ye wondrous Products of Almighty Pow’r,

You who in lofty Stations ſhine,

And to your glorious Source by glad Approaches tow’r:

In your bright Orders all appear;

With me your grateful Tribute pay,

Before his Throne your joint Devotions lay.

Ye charming Off-ſprings of the Earth draw near,

And for your Beauties pay your Homage here,

Let all above, and all below,

All that from unexhauſted Bounty flow,

To Heav’n their joyful Voices raiſe,

In K8v 2

In loud melodious Hymns of Praiſe.

When Time ſhall ceaſe, and each revolving Year,

Loſt in Eternity ſhall diſappear,

The bleſt Employment ever ſhall remain,

And God be ſung in each immortal Strain.


O ye bright Miniſters of Pow’r Divine,

In whom the Deity in Miniature does ſhine;

Ye firſt Eſſays of his creating Skill,

Who guard his Throne, and execute his Will,

Adore his Goodneſs, whoſe unweary’d Love

Call’d into Act that great Deſign,

That kind Idea to Perfection brought,

Which long had lain in his eternal Thought;

Who, when of all Felicity poſſeſt,

And in himſelf ſupremely bleſt,

To make his wondrous Bounty known,

Was pleas’d to raiſe

From nothing mighty Monuments of Praiſe:

Such as convincing Evidences prove

Of the Benignity Divine,

And in their bliſsful State above

With a reſplendent Luſtre ſhine:

Forms much more beautiful than Light,

And full of Charms to us unknown,

Of charms peculiar to themſelves alone:

Adorn’d with Glory not to be expreſs’d;

With Glory much too bright,

To be the Object of a mortal Sight.

Active as Air, as Æther pure,

Exempt from Paſſions, and from Pain ſecure,

From cumb’rous Earth, and all its Frailties free,

Happy, L1r 3

Happy, and crown’d with Immortality,

And knowing as created Minds can be.

Bleſſings like yours, extatick Euges claim;

Thro’ the celeſtial Courts your Thanks proclaim;

In higheſt Raptures, loudeſt Songs of Joy,

And Hallelujahs, your Eternity employ.


Ye glorious Plains of pure unſhaded Light,

Which far above the gloomy Verge of Night

Extended lie, beyond the ſharpeſt Ken of Sight;

Whoſe Bounds exceed the utmoſt Stretch of Thought,

Where vaſt unnumber’d Worlds in fluid Æther roll,

And round their radiant Centers move,

Making by Steps unequal, one continu’d Dance of Love:

Extol his Wiſdom, who ſuch Wonders wrought,

Who made, and like one individual Soul

Fills ev’ry Part, and ſtill preſerves the Mighty Whole.


Ye Products of condenſing Cold,

Ye Clouds, who liquid Treaſures hold,

Who from your wat’ry Stores above,

(Where wafted by concurring Winds you move)

On the glad Earth your Bounties pour,

And make it rich with each prolifick Show’r:

Not ſo you fall, as when you were deſign’d

To puniſh the rebellious Race of human Kind:

Then, with impetuous haſte ſtupendous Cataracts fell,

Deſcending Spouts, aſcending Torrents met;

L And L1v 4

And mingled Horrors did the Vict’ry get:

Nature could not their mighty Force repel;

Beauty and Order from her Surface fled,

While o’er the Ball the liquid Ruin ſpread:

Now in mild Show’rs you make your kind Deſcent,

Refreſh the Earth, and all our Wants prevent;

From lofty Mountains in Meander’s ſlide,

And roll by graſſy Banks your Silver Wealth along;

Let thoſe celeſtial Springs from whence you are ſupply’d

Their ſilent Homage pay;

And till that fatal Hour the grateful Task prolong,

When fierce devouring Flames ſhall force their dreadful Way,

And make this beauteous Globe their Prey;

From which ſulphureous Steams ſhall riſe

And chaſe the congregated Vapors from the Skies.


Ye bleſt Inhabitants of Light,

Who from your ſhining Seats above,

Are often ſent on Embaſſies of Love:

To diſtant Worlds you take your willing Flight,

And in the nobleſt Charity delight:

From the bleſt Source of Good, like Rays you flow,

And kindly ſpread your Influence below:

In vain the Great their mighty Deeds proclaim,

And think the higheſt Praiſe their Due,

And to themſelves aſcribe that Fame

Which wholly owing is to you:

In vain the grave conſidering Wiſe

Unto themſelves Applauſes give,

And think they by their own Endeavours riſe,

And rich and honour’d live:

The L2r 5

The whole unto your Care they owe,

From it each proſp’rous Turn, each bleſt Event doth flow:

That tender Care, which over all preſides,

And for the common Good of Man provides.

Your high Prerogatives with Joy confeſs;

In lofty Strains your kind Creator bleſs:

In unforc’d, grateful, and exalted Lays:

You know him beſt, and ought him moſt to praiſe.


Thou glorious Sun, bright Author of our Day,

Whoſe dazling Beams around themſelves diſplay,

And to the frozen Poles thy needful Heat convey.

From their long Night the ſhiv’ring Natives riſe,

And ſee vaſt Trains of Light adorn their Skies.

Before thy Fire the vanquiſh’d Cold Retires,

And Nature at the ſudden Change admires:

Then their loſt Verdure Woods and Fields regain,

And Seas and Rivers break their Icy Chain.

How bleſt are they who in Warm Climes are born!

Thoſe happy Climes thy Rays do moſt adorn!

Where balmy Sweets their fragrant Off’rings pay,

And warbling Birds ſalute the riſing Day:

Where vital Warmth does ſprightly Thoughts inſpire,

Thoughts brisk, and active as thy Rays:

Th’immortal Homer felt thy Fire,

That wondrous Bard! whom all ſucceeding Ages praiſe.

To the firſt Cause, the uncreated Light,

The radiant Source of everlaſting Day,

The Center whence thy Glories flow,

Thoſe dazling Splendors we admire below,

L2 With L2v 6

With us thy Adoration pay.

And thou, fair Orb, whoſe Beauties ſtill invite;

Who with thy paler Beams of borrow’d Light,

Bring’ſt back the Solar Rays to bleſs our Night:

From thee reflected, on the Earth they ſhine,

And make the awful Proſpect ſeem Divine:

Thy welcom Light the Northern Climates ſee,

Their tedious Night is pleaſant made by thee:

From that exalted Walk above,

Where round our Globe thou ſolemnly doſt move,

Admire and laud thy mighty Maker’s Love.


Ye glitt’ring Stars, who float in liquid Air,

Both ye that round the Sun in diff’rent Circles move,

And ye that ſhine like Suns above;

Whoſe Light and Heat attending Planets ſhare:

In your high Stations your Creator praiſe,

While we admire both him and you;

Tho’ vaſtly diſtant, yet our Eyes we raiſe,

And wou’d your lofty Regions view;

Thoſe immenſe Spaces which no Limits know,

Where pureſt Æther unconfin’d doth flow;

But our weak Sight cannot ſuch Journies go:

’Tis Thought alone the Diſtance muſt explore;

Nothing but That to ſuch a Height can ſoar,

Nothing but That can thither wing its Way,

And there with boundleſs Freedom ſtray,

And at one View Ten thouſand ſparkling Orbs ſurvey,

Innumerable Worlds and dazling Springs of Light.

O the vaſt Proſpect! O the charming Sight!

How full of Wonder, and Delight!

How mean, how little, does our Globe appear!

This L3r 7

This Object of our Envy, Toil and Care,

Is hardly ſeen amidſt the Croud above;

There, like ſome ſhining Point, do’s ſcarce diſtinguiſh’d move.


Yet Man by his own Thoughts betray’d,

Curſt with Self-love, not with Reflexion bleſt,

If of a great Eſtate poſſeſt,

Is to his Vanity a Victim made;

No longer he himſelf does know,

And looks with Scorn on all below:

But if by chance a Kingdom is his Share,

And he a Diadem does wear,

Full of himſelf, and heightned by his Pride,

He to Divinity does tow’r,

And from his viſionary Sphere of Pow’r

Commands his Subjects with imperious Sway,

And forces them his Paſſions to obey:

Humor, not Reaſon, is moſt times his Guide:

Too great to be advis’d, by Vice and Folly led,

He will the dang’rous Paths of ſlippery Grandeur tread,

And raſhly mount that ſteep Aſcent he ought to dread.

Miſtaken Wretch! what is this worthleſs All

Which does thy heated Fancy move?

If thou the whole thy own couldſt call,

’Twere but a Trifle if compar’d with thoſe above;

Which may, perhaps, the happy Manſions be

Of Creatures much more noble, much more wiſe than we.

L3 9. Ye L3v 8


Ye Exhalations that from Earth arise,

Whoſe minute Parts cannot be ſeen,

Till they’re aſſembled in the lower Skies;

Where being condens’d, they fall again

In gentle Dews, or Show’rs of Rain.

To you we owe thoſe Fruits our Gardens yield,

And all the rich Productions of the Field:

But Oh! how much are you by thoſe deſir’d,

Who are with ſcorching Sun-beams fir’d?

The ſwarthy Natives of the Torrid Zone,

Who live expos’d to the fierce burning Rays,

And wou’d in dazling Brightneſs waſte their Days,

Did you not ſometimes caſt a Shade between,

And from their Sight th’ exceſſive Glory skreen:

Your well tim’d Bounty they muſt ever own;

On them you annual Kindneſſes beſtow,

Their Air you cool, and all their Ground o’erflow.

As you deſcend, that God adore,

Unto whoſe Pow’r you owe your unexhauſted Store.


Ye bluſt’ring Winds, who ſpacious Regions ſway,

As thro’ your airy Realms you force your Way,

High as the ſtarry Arch your Voices raiſe,

And with loud Sounds your great Creator praiſe,

Whoſe wondrous Pow’r your Motion does declare:

Strange! that ſuch little Particles of Air,

Such Nothings as eſcape our Sight,

With ſo much Strength, ſuch wondrous Force ſhou’d move,

So pow’rful in their Operations prove!

Sometimes L4r 9

Sometimes impriſon’d in the Vaults below,

You all the dreadful Marks of Fury ſhow;

The Earth you ſhake, make mighty Cities reel,

And ev’ry Part the dire Concuſſion feel.

Chaſms you cauſe, and helpleſs Mortals fright,

Who trembling ſink int’ everlaſting Night:

With dying Accents on their Friends they call,

They hear, and in one common Ruin fall:

The pale Survivors panting fly,

And with loud Screeches rend the Skie;

To neighbouring Hills they take their haſty Flight,

But Hills, alas! can no Protection yield,

They can’t themſelves from the devouring Miſchief ſhield:

Purſu’d by Terrors, loſt in wild Amaze,

They on ſurrounding Horrors gaze:

With Sighs and Groans, and with repeated Cries,

They proſtrate fall, and with imploring Eyes,

All bath’d in Tears, from Heav’n they beg Relief,

From Heav’n which ſees, and only can aſſwage their Grief.


Sometimes diſturb’d, they ruffle all the Air,

And neither Earth, nor Ocean ſpare:

The mounting Waves with loud Confuſion roar,

And furious Surges daſh againſt the Shore:

The ſtately Cedar bends her awful Head;

The meaner Trees can no Reſiſtance make;

Their broken Branches all around are ſpread,

And all their leafy Honours ſhed:

The frighted Birds their ſhatter’d Neſts forſake:

Their verdant Food the trembling Cattle ſhun,

And urg’d by Fear to gloomy Coverts run.

L4 12. Bleſt L4v 10


Bleſt be that God who doth our Good deſign,

Whoſe Kindneſs do’s in each Occurrence ſhine:

Who makes the boiſt’rous Winds declare his Love,

And from our Air the noxious Steams remove,

Thoſe poiſ’nous Vapors which would fatal prove.

By him reſtrain’d, they gently blow,

And friendly Gales beſtow:

To ſultry Climes Relief convey,

Where Sun-burnt Indians faint away,

And curſe th’exceſſive Heat of their tormenting Day.

To them the Greedy, and the Curious owe

A Part of what they have, and what they know.

By them aſſiſted, they new Seas explore,

And viſit ev’ry foreign Shore:

Their Sails they fill; the Ships make ſpeedy way,

And to wiſh’d Ports their precious Freight convey.


Thou kind inlivening Fire,

Which doſt a needful Warmth inſpire;

And Heat which does to all extend,

From Stars above, to Mines below:

Which does on Natures Works attend,

At once to cheriſh, and defend,

And make her tender Embryo’s grow:

The whole Creation ſprings from thee,

Both what we are, and what we ſee,

Are owing to thy wondrous Energy.

Oppreſt with Cold, and void of Day,

The ſluggiſh Matter ſtupid lay,

Till L5r 11

Till that propitious Hour,

When thy invigorating Pow’r

Did firſt its ſelf diſplay:

Then Life and Motion ſoon begun,

And fiery Atoms form’d the Sun.

How various are the Bleſſings you beſtow!

To that great God from whom they flow,

With us your Praiſes ſend;

Let them in pureſt Flames aſcend;

To your bright Centre ſwiftly move,

Th’ eternal Fountain both of Heat and Love.


Ye kind Viciſſitudes of Heat and Cold,

Which thro’ the Year a due Proportion hold;

As on the Wings of Time your Round you move,

Extol that wiſe Almighty Mind,

Who has your diff’rent Tasks aſſign’d;

And from his lofty Throne above

Inſtructs you when to warm, and when to cool,

And does your Order with an undiſputed Empire rule.

Your grateful Changes Health and Pleaſure give;

Bleſt with the dear Variety we live:

Variety which tempts us on

The painful Ills of Life to bear,

And when the cheating Viſion’s gone,

For us does new deluding Scenes prepare:

From Place to Place,

Freſh Pleaſures we purſue,

And the delightful Toil renew,

Till Death o’ertakes us in our thoughtleſs Chaſe,

And puts an End to our phantaſtick Race.

15. Ye L5v 12


Ye Froſts and Ice, and you deſcending Snow,

Adore that God to whom your Pow’r you owe,

While we, well-pleas’d, your chilling cold endure,

And to the friendly Smart our ſelves inure;

And with the pure, the freſh, the ſalutif’rous Air,

The Miſchiefs of the Summers Heat repair;

Then with new Pleaſure wait th’approaching Spring,

And graſp thoſe Bleſſings which th’ increaſing Year does bring.

But Oh! the Rigors of the Northern Air!

What Pains muſt thoſe unhappy Mortals bear,

Who near the Pole, remote from Phœbus Rays

Waſt in uncomfortable Darkneſs half their Days!

There, piercing Winds commence their ſtormy reigns,

And Icy Cold th’ Aſcendant gains:

There, Seas congeal, and Rivers ceaſe to flow,

Where harden’d Earth doth firm as Marble grow,

And where both Hills and Vales are ever hid with Snow.

Nature to them penuriouſly does give;

They on a ſcant Allowance live:

Yet with contented Minds their Lot ſuſtain,

Not knowing better, and inur’d to Pain.


Ye ſilent Nights, who ſacred are to Reſt,

Wherein th’ afflicted, by their Griefs oppreſt,

Are with a ſhort Ceſſation bleſt;

While in the downy Bands of Sleep they lie,

Sorrow can no Impreſſion make,

Slumbers the abſent Joy ſupply;

And L6r 13

And they are happy till they wake.

Where you command, an awful Quiet reigns;

Ev’n Nature ſeems the Bleſſing to partake.

On the ſmooth verdant Plains

The weary Beaſts recline their Heads,

And fall aſleep upon their graſſy Beds:

The drowſie Birds ſit nodding on the Boughs;

To all her Works ſhe ſoft Repoſe allows.

E’er Darkneſs has her Veil withdrawn,

Or Light unbarr’d her radiant Gate,

Before the cheerful Morn begins to dawn;

While you march ſlowly on in ſolemn State,

With gentleſt Whiſpers, Accents ſoft as Air,

The Praiſes of your bounteous God declare.


And ye bright Days, who from the Eaſt ariſe,

And with diffuſive Glories gild the Skies,

With them your early Tribute pay;

While we by kindly Sleep refreſh’d,

Riſe gay and ſprightly from our Reſt,

And ſee, well-pleas’d, the Out-guards of the Night,

The gloomy Shades give way

To your victorious Light;

At whoſe Approach Joy ſpreads it ſelf around,

Pleaſures in ev’ry Place abound:

The buſie Peaſants their lov’d Toil renew,

And active Youths their noiſie Sports purſue:

With loud-mouth’d Hounds the frighted Hare they chaſe,

And with his Spoils their Triumphs grace:

The harmleſs Flocks lie basking in your Beams,

And Birds awaken’d ftrom their Dreams,

From L6v 14

From their ſoft Wings ſhake off the pearly Dew,

And their melodious Strains, in tuneful Notes renew.


Let Darkneſs, whom th’ infernal Pow’rs obey,

And who e’er Time begun, with univerſal Sway

Thro’ the wide Void its Empire did extend,

And ſtill do’s with its younger Siſter Light

In its nocturnal Courſe contend,

And ancient Rights defend:

As round th’ Almighty’s Throne, with ſable Wings display’d,

It forms a venerable Shade,

A Shade, which does from each celeſtial Sight

Such dazling Glories hide,

As did it not a needful Veil provide,

Wou’d with their prodigious Blaze

Attending Seraphims amaze;

For the high Honour thankful prove.

And thou, fair Off-ſpring of eternal Love,

Thou brightest Gift of Pow’r Divine,

Which thro’ the happy Plains above

Didſt with an undiminiſh’d Splendor ſhine:

From whence thou kindly didſt deſcend,

And thro’ the mournful Gloom thy cheerful Beams extend;

(Then beauteous Nature from the Chaos roſe,

And did a thouſand Charms diſcloſe:

With wondrous Pleaſure ſhe receiv’d the Grace,

And blooming Joy ſat ſmiling in her Face.)

To thy bright Fountain on retorted Rays

Send conſtant Tributes of unweary’d Praiſe.

19. Ye L7r 15


Ye tranſient Fires, who with tremendous Light

Ruſh thro’ the dusky Horrors of the Night,

As with a dreadful Sound you force your way

Thro’ thoſe reſiſting Clouds where you impriſon’d lay,

To Heav’n your Adoration pay;

While we your dang’rous Glories view

Glories, whoſe pernicious Blaze

Does the trembling World amaze:

Both Birds and Beaſts with Haſte retire,

And Men the Dictates of their Fear purſue;

From open Fields, and from th’ enkindled Air,

They to the neighbouring Cliffs repair;

But who can ſhun your penetrating Fire?

The ſubtile Miſchief ſpreads it ſelf around,

And tumbles lofty Temples to the Ground;

Rocks feel its Pow’r, Marbles are forc’d to yield,

Nor can the Trees their ſhady Cov’rings ſhield:

Thro’ cloſeſt Pores it makes its ſpeedy Way,

And on the vital Stock does prey.

Unhappy Mortals, thus expos’d by Fate

To the fierce Rage of each impending Ill,

Find in their tranſitory State,

That Death has many Ways to kill:

The Treaſure, Life, is kept with Pains and Coſt,

And ſometimes hardly ſeen, before ’tis loſt.


O let the Earth her great Creator bleſs,

And all the Wonders of his Pow’r confeſs:

From Pole to Pole, let her reſound his Praiſe;

Around L7v 16

Around her Globe let the glad Accents fly,

Till they are echo’d by the neighbouring Skie:

To all the liſt’ning Worlds above

Let her proclaim aloud

The bleſt Effects of his tranſcendent Love,

Who out of nothing did her beauteous Fabrick raiſe.

O Prodigy of Art Divine!

The Deity did in the wondrous Structure ſhine!

Who can in fit Expreſſions the ſublime Idea dreſs,

Or the ſtupendous Marvels of that Work expreſs!

Angels themſelves, whoſe Intellects are free

From thoſe dark Miſts which our weak Reaſon cloud,

Who things in their remoteſt Cauſes ſee,

Whoſe Knowledge like their Station’s great and high,

Above the loftieſt Flights of weak Mortality,

Aſtoniſh’d ſaw the riſing World appear;

The new, the glorious, the tranſporting Sight,

So full of Wonder, and Delight,

With rapt’rous Joys fill’d each celeſtial Breaſt,

With Joys too vaſt to be expreſt;

Such Extaſies as here

We could not feel, and live;

They to our Beings wou’d a Period give:

The killing Pleaſure wou’d be too intenſe,

And quite o’erwhelm our feeble Senſe;

But they who are all Intellect and Will,

And what they pleaſe fulfil,

Whoſe Minds are pure, free from the leaſt Allay,

Serene, and clear, as everlaſting Day,

Imbibe the moſt extatick Joys with eager Haſte,

Nor can th’ immenſe Exceſs immortal Spirits waſte.

21. Zeal L8r 17


Zeal tun’d their Harps, by it inſpir’d they ſung;

The charming Sound thro’ all th’ Empyrean rung:

Their god they with unweary’d Ardor bleſs’d,

And in their ſacred Hymns his Praiſe expreſs’d:

His Wiſdom, Pow’r, and Goodneſs they admire,

Theſe were the conſtant Themes of all th’Angelick Quire:

All theſe they ſaw on his new Work Impreſt:

They ſaw his pow’rful Fiat ſoon obey’d;

He ſpoke, and ſtreight that mighty Maſs was made,

Where Earth and Water, Air and Fire,

Without Diſtinction, Order, or Deſign,

Did in one common Chaos join:

Stupid, unactive, without Form, or Light,

They lay confus’dly huddl’d in their native Night;

Till on the gloomy Deep his Spirit mov’d;

Th’ Emanations of the Power Divine,

Did all its Parts with vital Influence bleſs,

And ſcatter’d thro’ the whole their motive Energies.

Th’ active Warmth did ev’ry Part impell,

The heavieſt downward made their way,

And to a new made Centre fell,

Where, by their Weight together preſt,

They did in one firm Body reſt,

On which a Maſs of Liquids lay:

The lucid Particles together came,

And join’d in one propitious Flame,

Which round the new-form’d Globe did Light and Heat convey,

And bleſt it with the welcom Birth of Day:

But to one Sphere the Fire was not confin’d,

Still L8v 18

Still a ſufficient Stock was left behind,

Which thro’ the Whole in due proportion went,

And needful Warmth to ev’ry Part was ſent.


By Heat excited, Exhalations roſe,

And did the Regions of the Air compoſe:

The thicker Parts our Atmoſphere did frame,

While the more ſubtil took a nobler Flight,

And fill’d with pureſt Æther the celeſtial Height,

Then Land appear’d; th’ obſequious Floods gave way,

And each within appointed Bounds did ſtay;

But rude and unadorn’d the new Concretion lay,

Till by a ſudden Act of Pow’r Divine,

Th’ unſhap’d Maſs a beauteous Earth became;

Charming it look’d in its gay Infant Dreſs;

Goodneſs and Art at once did ſhine,

And both the God confeſs.

Thrice bleſt that Pair, who in the Dawn of Time

Were made Poſſeſſors of that happy Clime:

But wretched they ſoon loſt their bliſsful State,

Undone by their own Folly, not their Fate.


Serene and Calm thoſe early Regions were,

A conſtant Spring was always there,

And gentle Breezes cool’d the Air,

Rough Winds and Rains they never knew,

But unſeen Showr’s of pearly Dew,

(Aereal Streams) their Balmy Drops diſtill’d,

And with prolifick moiſture the ſmooth ſurface fill’d.

The M1r 19

The beauteous Plains perpetual Verdure wore,

With lovely Flow’rs embroider’d o’er.

Flowers ſo wondrous ſweet, ſo wondrous Fair,

Ne’er grac’d our Earth, never perfum’d our Air,

Peculiar to thoſe happier Fields they were;

Thro’ which the winding Rivers make their Way,

The clear unſullied Streams with wanton Play

In Thouſand various Figures Stray;

Sometimes concurring Waters make

A little Sea, a Chryſtal Lake,

Where for a while in their ſoft Bed they reſt,

Till by ſucceeding Currents preſt,

To diſtant Parts they gently flow,

And murmur as they go,

As if they wiſh’d a longer Stay,

And ran unwillingly away:

On their enamel’d banks were ſeen

Plants ever Beauteous, ever Green;

Plants, whoſe odoriferous Smell,

Did the ſince fam’d Sabæan ſweets excell.

Nature profuſely ſpread her Riches there,

The fertile Soil prov’d grateful to her Care,

The new unlabour’d Ground large ſtately Trees did bear,

Trees whoſe Majeſtick Tops aſpir’d ſo high,

They almoſt ſeem’d to touch the Sky;

Loaden with Bloſſoms, and with Fruit at once they ſtood;

At once the Beauties of the Spring and Autumn crown’d the Wood:

At once they did the Bounties of both Seaſons wear.


Such was the Earth ſo Beautious and ſo Gay,

Freſh as the Morn, delightful as the Day:

M Not M1v 20

Not the Heſperian Gardens ſo much fam’d of old,

Where glorious Trees bare vegetable Gold;

Nor that whereof Mæonides has writ,

Alcinous Garden, which its Beauty ow’d

To that great Genius, that tranſcendent Wit,

Who could the loweſt Subject raiſe,

And make the meaneſt things deſerve Eternal Praiſe:

Such was Phæacia, ’till with wondrous Art

He ’mbeliſh’d ev’ry Part:

His Fancy the rich Dreſs beſtow’d:

To future Times it had been little known,

Having no native Luſtre of its own,

Had not his Muſe enroll’d its Name,

And laid it up ſecure within th’ Archives of Fame.

Nor theſe, nor yet thoſe happy Plains,

Virgil deſcribes in his immortal Strains,

Could equal the Perfections of that charming Place,

Which Nature had adorn’d with her exacteſt Care,

And furniſh’d it with every Grace;

Her Skill did every where appear:

All that was lovely, all that lov’d Delight,

Might there be ſeen in its exalted Height:

In it conſpicuouſly did ſhine

Th’ inimitable Strokes of Art Divine,

The God was ſeen in every dazling Line.


Such it continu’d, till deform’d by Sin:

Guilt call’d down Vengeance from above,

And quickly ſpoil’d the Workmanſhip of Love:

Guilt on the Earth a dreadful Deluge brought;

In vain th’ offending Race Protection ſought,

In vain they from the liquid Miſchief fled,

The M2r 21

The fatal Cauſe was ſtill within:

From Mountains Tops they ſaw the floating Dead:

Th’ increaſing Waters did their Steps purſue,

And none eſcap’d but the bleſt Fav’rite few:

Who rode in Triumph on the watry Waſte,

Secure above the ſwelling Surges plac’d:

Amaz’d they ſaw the daring Billows riſe,

They paſs’d the Clouds, and mingl’d with the Skies:

High on th’exalted Waves they look’d around,

But no Remains of their dear Country found;

Th’ inſulting Floods had cover’d all the Ground:

With Pity they their Brethrens Fate deplore,

And then the Mercies of their God adore;

His Mercy, who ſuch wondrous Diff’rence made,

And gave ſuch pregnant Proofs how much he lov’d:

Who, when no human Pow’r cou’d aid,

Himſelf their kind Protector prov’d.

While thus employ’d, they ſaw the Sea ſubſide,

Th’ impetuous Waters gradually withdrew;

Nature for their Reception did provide;

And they cou’d once again their native Regions view.


On ſome bleak Mountains Top they ſighing ſtay’d,

And thence the Horrors of the Plains ſurvey’d:

Thoſe pleaſant Plains, once fill’d with all Delight,

Afforded only now a melancholy Sight:

There Trees lay ſcatter’d, all defil’d with Mud,

And finny Monſters flounc’d where ſpacious Cities ſtood:

The Ground with Heaps of Bones was cover’d o’er,

They ev’ry where found ſomething to deplore:

Long on the ſad Cataſtrophe they gaz’d,

M2 At M2v 22

At once afflicted, and amaz’d;

And the vindictive Juſtice of their God rever’d,

That Juſtice, which ſo dreadfully appear’d.

At length embolden’d, and the Earth grown dry,

They from th’ inhoſpitable Heights deſcend;

Th’ aerial Kind diſperſe themſelves around,

Their Steps the Flocks and Herds attend,

And ſeek their Food upon the ſlimy Ground,

The ſlimy Ground cou’d not their Wants ſupply;

Indulgent Nature pity’d their Diſtreſs,

And did the Fields with uſeful Herbage bleſs:

But Men, unhappy Men, were forc’d to toil,

To plough, to ſow, and cultivate the Soil:

The ſtubborn Earth without their Care,

Nor Fruits, nor Corn, nor the rich Vine would bear:

They to their Labour their Subſiſtance ow’d,

And all their Plenty on themſelves beſtow’d.


We, the curſt Off-ſpring of that wandring Race,

Are ſtill condemn’d to this unhappy Place;

This Earth, where we with Tears are uſher’d in,

And where our Griefs, do with our Years begin;

Where, without Labour, we can nothing gain,

And where the Purchaſe equals not the Pain;

Who wou’d with ſo much Toil th’ Incumbrance Life maintain?

But we muſt live Probationers for Joy,

In noble Deeds our coming Hours employ;

That, when from this bad World releas’d by Fate,

We may be re-admitted to that glorious State,

Where our pure Souls poſſeſs’d ſupreme Delight,

And liv’d within the Verge of everlaſting Light.

What, M3r 23

What, ye bleſt Spirits, what cou’d you excite

To leave your radiant Seats above?

Could mortal Bodies ſuch Attractives prove?

Was Happineſs grown your Diſeaſe?

Or were you ſurfeited with Eaſe?

O dreadful Lapſe! O fatal Change!

Muſt you, who thro’ the higher Orbs could range,

Survey the beauteous Worlds above,

And there adore the Source of Love,

Be here confin’d to Lumps of Clay,

To darkſom Cells, remote from your Ætherial Day?

On this vain Theatre of Noiſe and Strife,

Muſt you be forc’d to act the Farce of Life:

Our Souls, Good God, to their firſt Bliſs reſtore,

And let them actuate dull Fleſh no more.


’Tis granted; Hark! I hear the Trumpet ſound,

The mighty Voice dilates it ſelf around,

And in its Clangor ev’ry leſſer Noiſe is drown’d.

He comes! he comes! with a refining Fire,

The Clouds before him awfully retire:

The parting Skies with haſte give way

And ſhow to trembling Men the bright eternal Day:

Lightning and Thunder on his Triumph wait,

With all the fiery Miniſters of Fate:

Ten thouſand Meteors roll along the Air;

Hot Exhalations waſte their Fury there:

And burning Mountains ſend their Flames on high;

Swift as our Thoughts the ſcorching Miſchiefs fly:

Mixt with thick Smoak the threatning Terrors riſe,

And fill with ſooty Atoms the dark gloomy Skies:

The Earth does ſhake, by fierce Convulſions rent,

M3 And M3v 24

And ſearching Fires to ev’ry Part are ſent.

Hark! how the troubled Sea does roar!

Its ſcalding Waters beat againſt the Shore:

The Fiſhes leave their oozy Bed;

With Haſte they ſwim to Land,

But find no Reſt upon the burning Sand:

Both Land and Water equally they dread,

And on the glowing Beach in mighty Sholes lie dead.

The feather’d Kind forſake their lofty Heights,

And from the ſultry Regions of the Air,

By ſpeedy Flights

For Refuge to the Earth repair,

Where, with ſing’d Wings they gaſping lie;

The lowing Herds fall panting by,

And Beaſts of Prey with ſtrugling Fury die.

The brute Creation one great Holocauſt is made,

And altogether on the burning Altar laid.


By flaming Horrors ev’ry where purſu’d,

From Place to Place, poor frighted Mortals run;

Where e’er they go, their Danger is renew’d,

They can’t the ſwift Deſtruction ſhun:

Tortur’d with Heat they fainting fall,

And caſt deſpairing Glances round;

The Children on their Parents call;

The wretched Parents ſighing lie,

And ſee their tender Off-ſpring die:

With loud Complaints they fill the Air;

The heav’nly Vault returns the Sound,

And ſpreads the mournful Accents round:

In vain they groan, in vain they cry,

In vain their Screeches pierce the Sky,

Alas! M4r 25

Alas! no Help, no Aid is nigh:

The common Vengeance all muſt ſhare,

And with the Earth, the fiery Trial bear;

Both rich, and poor, muſt leave their mingl’d Aſhes there.


See! ſee! ſhe’s now a Sea of Fire,

A vaſt enormous Blaze!

The neighb’ring Worlds the Prodigy admire,

And on the new-form’d Glory gaze:

The Fire has all her Droſs calcin’d,

Ev’ry Part is now refin’d:

Juſtice appeas’d, to Love gives way,

Love will once more its Pow’r diſplay,

And the Foundations of a ſecond Fabrick lay.

’Tis done! ’tis done! an Earth does riſe,

Encompas’d round with purer Skies;

An Earth, much better than the firſt,

Than that, which for our ſake was curſt:

Much more beauteous, much more fine,

Much more of Skill Divine

Does in the charming Texture ſhine:

No inequalities of Air,

No noxious Vapors govern there;

The brighten’d Skies unclouded Luſtre wear.


There Plenty ſpreads her Wings around,

And broods upon the fertile Ground:

Without Expence, or Toil, or Care,

The fruitful Ground does all things bear:

It has an unexhauſted Store;

M4 The M4v 26

The greedy cannot wiſh for more:

Sparkling Gems, and golden Oar,

Uſeful Corn, and gen’rous Wine,

Woods of Cedar, Oak, and Pine,

And lofty Groves for ever green,

With Beds of fragrant Flow’rs between;

Pure chryſtal Springs, ſweet cooling Streams,

Such as were once the Poets Themes.

See! ſee! melodious Birds are there;

They pleaſe the Eye, and charm the Ear;

And inoffenſive Beaſts their Pleaſure mind,

Neither for Labour, nor for Food deſign’d:

They do not on each other prey,

But new, and better Laws obey;

Both Lambs and Lions there together play.


O ye celeſtial Race!

By Providence deſign’d,

The bleſt Poſſeſſors of this happy Place,

You who like us did earthy Bodies wear,

Like us did human Frailties ſhare,

And all the painful Ills of ling’ring Life did bear:

But now to nobler Poſts conſign’d,

Have left your cumbrous Fleſh behind;

And now are cloth’d with radiant Light,

With Bodies active, pure, and bright;

Admire and praiſe that wondrous Love

Which has for you ſuch Joys in Store:

When landed on that glorious Shore,

You’ll think of your paſt Griefs no more:

Divine Munificence will prove

The M5r 27

The bleſt Employment of your happy Hours,

And ſtill exert your moſt exalted Pow’rs.


No more with Trifles you’ll be then in Love,

No more your former vain Purſuits approve:

No more endeavour to be rich and great;

And to your Cares a Prey,

In anxious Thoughts employ the Night,

And in Fatigues the Day:

No more ſuch needleſs Toils repeat;

No more in Luxury delight:

No more be wretched by your Paſſions made,

Nor by your Appetites betray’d:

From all your Follies you’ll abſtain,

No more penurious be, nor vain,

Nor will you ever more complain:

Your former Pleaſures will inſipid prove,

No more than Dreams your waken’d Reaſon move;

New Objects wholly will ingroſs your Love:

Objects of which we can’t Ideas frame,

And Joys, for which we cannot find a Name.


Such Joys as here from Contemplation ſpring;

That beſt, that nobleſt Pleaſure of the Mind,

Which keeps the Soul upon the Wing,

And will not be to any Place confin’d;

But range at large, as unreſtrain’d as Thought, or Wind.

To you Delights ’twill ever yield:

’Twill lead you into Nature’s boundleſs Field;

To you her various Beauties ſhew,

And M5v 28

And let you her Arcanum view:

The Scenes of Providence diſplay,

Before you all the Machines lay;

The whole Oeconomy Divine,

Where Art does in Perfection ſhine,

And where amaz’d you’ll find

Wiſdom and Goodneſs, with Almighty Pow’r combin’d:

Shew you the paſt Occurrences of Time,

From Natures Birth, to her Decay,

From the rude Chaos, to that laſt concluding Day,

Which ſweeps both Men and all their vaſt Deſigns away:

Sights ſuch as theſe, ſo wondrous, and ſublime,

Will higheſt Tranſports raiſe,

And prove fit Matter for eternal Praiſe.


There, with each other you’ll with Joy converſe,

And all the Warmth of ſacred Love expreſs:

Each Breaſt will with a holy Ardor flame,

Your Souls unite, and ever be the ſame:

Without Reſerve, without Diſguiſe you’ll live,

No Artifice, no ſep’rate Int’reſt know;

You Heart for Heart will freely give,

And pay the Kindneſs which you owe.

That Friendſhip which from Virtue ſprings,

Immortal as its Cauſe does prove;

With it, Ten thouſand Joys it brings,

Such Joys as Death cannot remove:

They will beyond the Grave remain,

And ſolace us above;

Where, for the Good we lov’d below,

We our Affection ſhall retain;

Which M6r 29

Which ſtill to greater Heights ſhall riſe,

Shall ſtill more fervent grow,

And like the Glory of the Skies,

Shall no Decay, no Diminution know.


Ye lofty Mountains whoſe aſpiring Heights

Stop riſing Vapors in their airy Flights;

Where when condens’d, from thence they flow,

And water all the Plains below.

To you, the mightieſt Rivers owe their Birth,

And the moſt precious Treaſures of the Earth:

Silver, and Gold, thoſe Darlings of Mankind,

We in your wealthy Bowels find:

On us, you Copper, Iron, Lead and Tin beſtow,

And there, both ſhining Gems, and uſeful Min’rals grow.

When from your airy Tops we look around,

On ev’ry ſide are pleaſing Objects found,

Yonder, large Plains their verdant Beauties ſhow,

And there, with noiſie haſte reſiſtleſs Torrents flow:

Here, various Animals, and Herbs invite,

There, Towns we ſee, here Foreſts yield Delight,

And there, the mighty Ocean bounds our Sight.

As high above the Clouds your Heads you raiſe,

The wondrous Pow’r of your Creator praiſe;

Let thund’ring Blaſts ſpread the loud Accents round,

And let each Hill return the joyful Sound.


Ye lovely Greens, who cloath the Earth,

And M6v 30

And to the Sun, and Moiſture owe your Birth:

All you that are for uſe deſign’d,

The Pride of Meadows, where the bleating Cattle find

Enough their Hunger to ſuffice,

And ſtill are bleſt with freſh Supplies:

Ye tender Herbs, who beauteous Flow’rs produce,

And ye, enrich’d with balmy Juice,

Who are with healing Virtues bleſt,

And you who for Delight were made,

For Ornament, or Shade,

With all th’ odoriferous Kind:

To Heav’n from whence your Beauties came,

Your Thanks in pure Effluviums ſend;

Thither let all your Praiſes be addreſt;

In plenteous Steams let them aſcend,

And with an eager Swiftneſs fly

Thro’ the ſoft yielding Skie.

Ye towring Trees, do you the ſame;

You, that with verdant Honours crown’d

Caſt your wide ſpreading Branches round,

And from the Sun’s too fervent Heat

Afford a welcom cool Retreat.

O ye lov’d Groves! my early dear Delight!

You to a thouſand Joys invite:

Joys known but to a thoughtful Mind,

Which can within true Satisfaction find;

And needs no Foreign Help to maſte it bleſt,

But all-ſufficient in its ſelf can reſt.


Come all ye Fountains your due Tribute pay,

And let each River as it rolls along;

The univerſal Call obey,

And M7r 31

And with the whole Creation join in one harmonious Song:

Thro’ all the bright Expanſe above,

The boundleſs Theatre of Love,

Let the melodious Noiſe reſound,

And ſpread the grateful Tranſports round:

Let Nature too her Homage pay

In ev’ry charming Lay.

Hear, O ye Seas! th’ inviting Sound,

Let all your boiſtrous Roarings ceaſe,

And let your watry Subjects taſte the Sweets of Peace.

See! they attend! a ſacred Silence reigns,

And Quiet ſits triumphant on the liquid Plains.

Ye liſt’ning Waves, with a low murm’ring Voice,

Expreſs your Thanks, and with the reſt rejoice:

With you we’ll join, and the great Subject raiſe:

Almighty Goodneſs claims the higheſt Praiſe.


Ye Monarchs of the finny Race,

Who in the Northern Seas delight;

Where your huge Bodies fill a mighty Space,

And ſhow like living Iſlands to the wond’ring Sight;

As you your Heads above the Waters raiſe,

Speak by your Geſtures your Creator’s Praiſe:

With you let ev’ry leſser Fiſh combine;

Such as in ſcaly Armour ſhine,

With thoſe that near the Surface play,

And to the pleas’d Spectator’s Sight,

Their beauteous Forms, and glitt’ring Finns diſplay;

All ſuch as in the Depths delight,

And thro’ the weedy Lab’rinths ſtray;

Thoſe who themſelves in muddy Coverts hide,

And M7v 32

And ſuch as in ſtrong pearly Shells reſide;

With thoſe that in the Rivers live,

Far diſtant from th’ incroaching Tide;

Let all by Signs their Plaudits give;

Before his Throne their mute Devotion lay,

And, as they can, their ſilent Adoration pay.


Ye pretty Rangers of the Air,

Who, unconfin’d, can at your Pleaſure fly

Thro’ the wide Regions of the lower Sky:

And in purſuit of freſh Delight,

Or weary’d with your towring Flight,

Can to the Earth with Eaſe repair,

And feed on tempting Viands there;

And thence to ſilent Groves retire,

Where, undiſturb’d, you ſit and ſing,

And welcom back the flow’ry Spring;

Or at the Summer’s Warmth rejoice;

That Warmth, to which you owe the Fire

Which does harmonious Strains inſpire.

Well-pleas’d with your delightful Choice,

From Bough to Bough you warbling fly;

While neighb’ring Hills return the Voice,

And to each charming Note reply.

As thus your happy Minutes glide along,

To Heav’n melodious Off’rings pay:

With you an equal Share

Let the whole Species bear;

The wild and tame, the beauteous, ſwift and ſtrong;

Let all contribute to the Song:

And each in his peculiar way

To M8r 33

To Heav’ns eternal King,

With cheerful Haſte his vocal Tribute bring.


Come all ye Beaſts, your Homage pay,

You of the fierce devouring Kind,

Who chiefly live on Prey;

And all the Night intent on Spoil,

Range up and down with reſtleſs Toil,

Where if by chance you wretched Trav’lers find,

Who are by Fate your Prey deſign’d,

On them without Remorſe you ſeize,

And with their Blood your craving Stomachs pleaſe;

But when returning Day

Has chas’d the dusky Shades away,

Back to your Dens with Fear you run,

At once purſuing Men, and hated Light to ſhun:

And you, whoſe Innocence, and Uſe,

Keep you ſecure from all Abuſe;

Ye harmleſs Flocks, who grace the Field,

And you, that milky Treaſures yield:

All you that on the Mountains breed,

And you, that in the Vallies feed:

You, who on craggy Rocks reſide,

And you, that in the Earth abide:

Let ev’ry individual Beaſt,

As well the largeſt, as the leaſt,

Before their bounteous God rejoice,

And pay their Thanks with an united Voice.


Ye Sons of Men, ye choſen Race

Whom M8v 34

Whom God does with tranſcendent Favours grace:

You, who depend on his Almighty Pow’r,

And taſte his Bounty ev’ry Hour;

Return thoſe Thanks which are his Due,

And let the brutal Kind be all out-done by you:

Exert your Reaſon, ev’ry Thought improve,

And let your Faculties be all employ’d on Love:

That Love, to which our all we owe,

And which takes Pleaſure freely to beſtow.

When firſt this beauteous World was wrought,

While we exiſted but in Thought,

Love, even then our Good deſign’d,

Even then in ev’ry Part it ſhin’d:

Each Place had ſomething to invite,

The whole was crouded with Delight.

The Air was calm, the balmy Spring

Did all its fragrant Treaſures bring:

The Beaſts rejoyc’d, and void of Strife,

Enjoy’d a pleaſant, eaſie Life:

Sung the glad Birds, and all conſpir’d

To make the Earth a Place deſir’d,

A Paradiſe, that cou’d not be enough admir’d!


When thus prepar’d, Love ſmiling came,

And did our happy Parents frame:

Beauteous they were as dawning Light,

Their Underſtandings clear and bright.

To you, ſaid he, this Earth I give;

Amidſt unnumber’d Pleaſures live.

Prove but obedient, and your Bliſs ſhall be

As laſting as my own Eternity.

He ſpoke; they liſten’d to the joyful Sound,

Then N1r 35

Then caſt their raviſh’d Eyes around,

Where e’er they gaz’d, they ſome new Wonder found.

Ah! thoughtleſs Pair! how ſoon were you undone!

O cou’d you not the fatal Tempter ſhun!

Accurſed Pride! thou Ruin of our Race,

Thou black Inhabitant of Hell,

How durſt thou enter that forbidden Place,

And prompt them to rebel?

O ’twas the vain Deſire of knowing more,

Of adding to your intellectual Store,

Which made both you, and all your wretched Off-ſpring poor.


Too late, alas! they their ſad Change lament,

And to the Woods their fruitleſs Sorrows vent.

Its dire Effects their Guilt diſplays,

For Innocence once loſt, Content no longer ſtays:

Purſu’d by Vengeance, of themſelves afraid,

They were a Prey to ev’ry Terror made:

The Fear of Death, that unknown worſt of Ills,

Their ſad deſponding Souls with black Ideas fills:

Where e’er they look’d, a diſmal Horror reign’d,

And ev’ry Creature in its turn complain’d:

Full of Deſpair, they ſhun the hated Day,

And in dark Shades ſigh their ſad Hours away:

But they, alas! in vain retire;

Shades cannot hide from Wrath divine;

That all-conſuming Fire

Will thro’ the thickeſt Covert ſhine:

Nor ſubterranean Vaults, nor an Egyptian Night

Are Proof againſt the ſearching Rays of pure Æthereal Light.

N 45. Offen- N1v 36


Offended Juſtice comes to try their Cauſe,

And from their cloſe Receſs the trembling Wretches draws.

Struck pale with Horror, ſelf-condemn’d they ſtood,

And for themſelves ſome vain Excuſes made:

Deceiv’d they were by a pretended Good,

And all the Blame on the falſe Tempter laid:

The Judge incens’d, their Follies wou’d not hear,

The weak Reſults of Shame and Fear.

Their Wills were free, and they had Pow’r to chuſe;

The Good they knew, and might the Ill refuſe:

Felicity was theirs; and if they’d pleas’d

The glorious Treaſure had been ſtill their own;

They cou’d not be by Fraud, or Force diſſeiz’d:

Their Loſs was owing to themſelves alone:

Their Diſobedience to the Law divine

Made Death, eternal Death, their Due:

In vain they at their Puniſhment repine,

Th’ impartial Judge will no Compaſſion ſhew.

Their future Race with them muſt bear a Part,

Involv’d both in the Guilt, and in the Smart.


Love look’d with Pity on their loſt Eſtate,

And ſtrove to mitigate their rig’rous Fate:

But its Attempts all unſucceſsful prove.

Relentleſs Juſtice nought could move:

’Twas deaf to all the ſoft Remonſtrances of Love.

When it in vain all other Ways had try’d,

It put on Fleſh, and for the Guilty dy’d:

Offer’d N2r 37

Offer’d it ſelf in Sacrifice for All,

And did a willing Victim fall.

O wondrous Goodneſs! Kindneſs all Divine!

The God does in the bounteous Action ſhine!


See, he appears! he leaves his glorious Throne!

Puts off his Robes of dazling Light

And all alone

He downward takes his Way

To Realms remote from his eternal Day!

Where all thoſe splendors which our Eyes invite,

Are if compar’d to thoſe above,

Like Lunar Beams, or wandring Fires,

And all as mean, as tranſient Pleaſures prove.

He comes! he comes! our Nature wears!

And all our ſinleſs Frailties ſhares,

And all our Sorrows, all our Suff’rings bears!

Each Angel at the Sight admires,

And ſtooping low, with wondring Eyes,

Into th’ awful Myſt’ry pries.

Gaze on, gaze on, O holy Quire!

And as you gaze, his Praiſes ſing;

Such wondrous Love you can’t enough admire,

A Love which only cou’d from boundleſs Pity ſpring:


But ſtay a while, your heav’nly Muſick ceaſe,

Behold a Scene your Wonder will increaſe:

A Scene, that wou’d, cou’d you be touch’d with Grief,

The deepeſt Sorrow in your Breaſts excite,

N2 A melan- N2v 38

A melancholy, an amazing Sight,

A Prodigy beyond Belief!

A God ſurrounded by inſulting Foes,

And meekly yielding to their barb’rous Rage,

Condemn’d, deſpis’d, and ſcourg’d by thoſe

For whoſe lov’d ſakes he this hard Treatment choſe!

With cruel Men, infernal Pow’rs engage,

And the Variety of Torments try:

No common Suff’rings can their Wrath aſſwage,

He muſt with complicated Tortures die.

View him! O view him on th’ accurſed Wood,

His tender Hands and Feet all ſtain’d with Blood,

Bending beneath an ignominious Fate,

The dire Reſult both of their Guilt and Hate.


See, by his Croſs, the Virgin Mother ſtands

With ſtreaming Eyes, and lifted Hands:

Fixt on the mournful Object ſhe appears,

And only ſpeaks by Sighs and Tears.

Thou wondrous Pattern of maternal Love!

Cou’d Grief like thine no Pity move?

Such Sorrow might ev’n hungry Tigers charm,

And fierce Barbarians of their Wrath diſarm:

But the more ſavage Jews were Stangers grown

To thoſe ſoft Dictates Nature does inſpire;

They did all tender Sentiments diſown,

And were by Helliſh Malice ſet on Fire:

But oh! our Sins ſtrike deeper than their Rage,

And in their Cauſe, celeſtial Wrath ingage:

They pierc’d his Soul with Sorrows more intense,

Than ever ſince were felt by human Senſe.

While N3r 39

While thus he ſuffer’d, the condoling Sun

Withdrew his Light,

That he the diſmal sight might ſhun;

Darkneſs, great as their Crimes, the World o’erſpread,

And ev’ry Ray back to its Center fled.

While they are wondring at the ſudden Night,

His dreadful Agonies increaſe,

Our Sins diſturb’d his inward Peace:

With loud Complaints, and ſtrong pathetick Cries,

He tow’rds his Father’s Throne caſt his expiring Eyes,

To him reſigns his Soul, and full of Anguiſh dies.


See! O thou holy Mourner! ſee!

Commiſerating Nature joins with thee!

The trembling Earth reſounds thy Moans,

And anſwers ev’ry Sigh with loud redoubl’d Groans:

The Beaſts refuſe their Meat, the Birds complain,

And with ſad Notes fill each adjoining Plain;

The neighb’ring Hills return the mournful Sound,

And ſpread the melancholy Muſick round:

The Rivers with condoling Murmurs flow,

And cryſtal Fountains Signs of Sadneſs ſhow:

The Rocks are rent,

And the rough Soldiers wear

Th’ unuſual Badge of Sorrow and of Fear:

Full of Compaſſion each retires;

The moving Sight ſo vaſt Concern inſpires.

All, but the cruel Jews relent;

Their harden’d Hearts cannot of Ill repent.

N3 51. The N3v 40


The kind Redeemer in his Grave is laid;

For us he has a mighty Ranſom paid,

And for our Sins full Satisfaction made.

With livelieſt Colours in our Thoughts we’ll paint

The buried Son, and the lamenting Saint;

By him ſhe ſits, with num’rous Woes oppreſt,

And wrings her Hands, and beats her ſnowy Breaſt:

With Sorrows, ſuch as ſhe ne’er felt before,

And Floods of Tears, ſhe does her Loſs deplore;

Fain wou’d ſhe ſpeak, but Words can find no way,

She muſt the Motions of her Grief obey,

And only by her Sighs her Thoughts convey.

Thoſe thronging Dolors which her Soul moleſt

Are much too great to be expreſt;

They can’t in ſad Complaints a Paſſage find;

By their Exceſs, unhappily confin’d,

They ſtill remain within, the Burthen of her Mind.


Oh! who can ſee the holieſt of her Kind,

With humble Duty to her God reſign’d,

Bear ſuch Afflictions with a Patient Mind,

And not with conſcious Shame

Their own ungovern’d Tempers blame?

Ah! bleſſed Virgin, let us learn from thee

To live from all our ſinful Paſſions free:

Let us no more at Providence repine,

But yield a calm Submiſſion to the Will Divine:

Like thee all Injuries, all Loſſes bear,

And be contented when they’re moſt ſevere.

Thy N4r 41

Thy pious Grief ſucceding Times ſhall praiſe,

And to thy Honour laſting Trophies raiſe:

Where e’er thy Son extends his Heav’nly Laws,

And with his ſaving Precepts vicious Mortals awes;

Thy dear Remembrance ever ſhall remain,

And thou a mighty Veneration gain:

Thy bleſt Example ſhall our Pattern be,

We’ll ſtrive to live, to love, to grieve, like thee.


Now ceaſe to weep, thy Task of Grief is done;

Attend the Triumphs of thy conqu’ring Son:

He ſhall no longer in the Grave remain,

With Eaſe he breaks Death’s adamantine Chain;

O’er it, and Hell, ſee him victorious riſe,

And once again

Reſtore himſelf to thy deſiring Eyes;

Make hakehasſte, make haſte, with eager Raptures meet

Th’ aſcending God, and breath thy Tranſports at his Feet:

Make known thy Troubles, there thy Griefs repeat,

And let thy Joys, be like thy Sorrows, great.


The holy Dead re-viſit Earth again;

Thoſe who whole Ages in their Graves had lain,

Awake from their long ſilent Night,

And croud to ſee the joyful Sight:

With them, the faithful Few on their dear Saviour gaze,

And loſe their Reaſon in the bleſt Amaze:

With doubting Minds on his lov’d Face they look;

N4 The N4v 42

The welcom Viſion ſtrikes them with Surprize;

At once with Joy and Wonder ſtrook,

They trembling ſtand, and disbelieve their Eyes;

Till his known Voice diſpels their Fear,

That Voice, with Tranſports they were wont to hear

Go, my lov’d Followers, graciouſly he ſaid,

Go, and the ſinful World perſuade;

I will my ſelf your kind Endeavours aid:

Firſt to the Jews my righteous Doctrines preach,

And then the Heathen Nation teach;

To them my ſacred Laws make known,

I will by Miracles your Miſſion own:

Go, fearleſs on, and my Commands obey,

And ſlight thoſe Dangers which obſtruct your way.

Purſue thoſe Paths which I have trod,

And boldly ſhare the Suff’rings of your God:

Eternal Glory your Reward ſhall prove,

The dear-bought Purchaſe of your Maſter’s Love.


Theſe charming Accents their glad Souls elate,

And reconcile them to their coming Fate;

To honour him who for their ſakes had dy’d,

They Death, and its preceding Ills, defy’d:

Reſolv’d they wou’d the cruel Jews oppoſe,

And preach Repentance to his barb’rous Foes:

They to remoteſt Countries dauntleſs go,

Thro’ burning Sand, and chilling Snow:

No Pain, no Labour ſpare,

But ev’ry where

His ſacred Truths declare:

Thoſe ſacred Truths which Souls refine,

And N5r 43

And if they his Aſſiſtance have,

The moſt obdurate Sinners ſave.

While fill’d with Pleaſure all Divine,

They gaz’d on the tranſporting Sight,

He his Bleſſing to them gave;

And then before their wond’ring Eyes

Return’d to his deſerted Skies,

And re-aſſum’d his Regal State.

They ſaw him mount cloth’d with refulgent Light:

Th’ incircling Air, made by Reflexion bright,

They ſaw with dazling Splendor ſhine.

And now above the Reach of Fate,

Beyond the narrow Verge of Time,

By his pleas’d Father’s ſide he ſits ſublime;

With him ador’d, encompaſs’d round

With num’rous Crouds, who his due Praiſe reſound:

There, he for ever will his Merits plead,

And with unweary’d Kindneſs intercede,

For ſuch as here his juſt Commands obey,

And at his Feet their darling Int’reſts lay.


While the Diſciples with attentive Eyes

Fixt their Regards on the reſplendent Skies,

And view’d thoſe diſtant Tracts of Light

Which their dear Lord had left behind,

Two glorious Forms appear’d before their Sight,

And with freſh Wonder fill’d each Mind:

Beauteous they were as new created Day,

And did reſiſtleſs Charms diſplay:

Ætherial Splendors compaſs’d them around,

And they with glitt’ring Beams were crown’d:

With wondrous Grace, and a majeſtick Air,

They N5v 44

They to th’aſtoniſh’d Liſt’ners ſaid,

Why, O ye Galileans, stand ye gazing here,

By too much Love betray ’d

To groundleſs Fear?

He is not loſt, for whom you mourn;

You ſhall once more ſee him return:

From Heav ’n he ſhall deſcend again

Attended by a pompous Train:

Myriads of Angels, than the Sun more bright,

Clad all in Robes of ſhining white,

Shall on his radiant Chariot wait,

Reſounding trumpets ſhall proclaim his coming State,

While bending Clouds their glorious Weight diſ close,

And show th’avenging God to his deſpairing Foes.


That God whom they did once deſpiſe,

Shall then become the Terror of their Eyes:

With ſwifteſt Haſte they’ll his dread Preſence ſhun,

And to dark Caves, and cloſeſt Caverns run:

With deaf’ning Clamors to the Hills they’ll call,

And wiſh the Mountains on their Heads wou’d fall;

Beneath the mighty Ruins they wou’d hide,

Or in unfathomable Depths abide:

As They with Horror, ſo the Good with Joy,

Shall on the bright Appearance gaze,

And meet their God with cheerful Songs of Praise:

He comes! he comes! exultingly they’ll ſing,

He comes the wicked to deſtroy!

Those long ſince dead, and those that yet remain,

He dooms! he dooms! to everlasting Pain:

But N6r 45

But from each Land his ſuff’ring Saints will bring:

From their long Sleep his injur’d Servants wake;

They ſhall a Part of the reſplendent Triumph make:

In pure, immortal Bodies they ſhall riſe,

And mount, all-glorious mount the Skies:

Where free from Sin, from Pain, from Fear,

They shall the welcom Euge hear;

Well done, well done, ſhall their pleas’d Saviour say;

Come, and receive a Recompence from me;

You’ve been my Follo’wers in the rugged Way,

And now ſhall taſte of my Felicity.

Go, theſe important Truths make known;

His Resurrection joyfully declare;

Not to the Jews alone;

Let the whole World in the glad Tidings ſhare.

They ſaid; and as a tranſient Flash of Light,

With Swiftneſs glances on Spectators Sight,

And in a moment mingles with the Air,

And loſes all its Splendor there;

Such was the quick Appearance, ſuch the quick Remove,

Of those bright Forms, those Miniſters of Love.


Replete with Joy, by flaming Ardor ſway’d,

The pleas’d Disciples their lov ’d Lord obey’d:

With proſp’rous Haſte his holy Faith they ſpread,

And his Name reſtore’d the Sick, and raiſd’d the Dead;

That awful Name from which the trembling Devils fled!

Th’oppoſing World they for his ſake defy’d,

For N6v 46

For him they liv’d, and in his Service dy’d.

Thrice bleſt are you who ſtill obey his Voice,

And make this dang’rous Proof of Zeal your Choice:

Who, by a Love for your dear Lord inſpir’d,

And by diffuſive Goodneſs fir’d,

Croſs Seas unknown, thro’ pathleſs Deſerts go,

And no Concern for your own Safety ſhow;

Intrepid, and untir’d, no Toils decline

That may advance your great Deſign:

Contemning Dangers, ſtill purſue your Way,

And far as the remoteſt Bounds of Day,

The glorious Enſign of your Suff’ring God diſplay.


Let Iſrael, that diſtinguiſh’d Race,

Thoſe Darlings of almighty Love,

Whom Heav’n has bleſs’d with his peculiar Grace,

To their great Benefactor thankful prove:

To him, who in their infant State,

When they, expos’d and helpleſs, lay,

To ev’ry threatning Ill a Prey:

Obnoxious to the Storms of Fate,

And their inſulting Neighbours Hate,

Kept them from all approaching Harms

Secure, in his all-pow’rful Arms:

And who in their mature Eſtate,

When they Egyptian Fetters wore,

And cruel Preſſures bore,

Then, even then, their Good deſign’d,

Midſt all their Streights his Kindneſs ſhin’d,

And when reſolv’d to ſet them free

By Methods All-divine,

He brought about his great Deſign;

And N7r 47

And let the haughty Tyrant ſee,

That while he multiply’d their Pains,

And faſter ſtrove to tie their Chains,

He but his own Deſtruction wrought,

And on his Land a ſpeedy Ruin brought.


The fav’rite People ſafe remain’d,

While Plagues among his Subjects reign’d;

Such Plagues as with amazing Haſte

Laid all his fruitful Country waſte:

His fertile Nile with Blood made flow,

The ſanguin Miſchief thro’ its Channels ſpread;

While from th’ infectious Stench the poiſon’d Fiſhes fled,

And on the putrid Mud in noiſom Heaps lay dead:

The Crocodiles their watry Haunts forſake,

And to the Land for Shelter go;

Where, all defil’d with Gore, they wall’wing lie,

And ſtretch’d at length, the bulky Monſters die:

The wretched Natives of theſe Ills partake:

Quite parch’d with Thirſt, they all the Land ſurvey’d,

Thro’ ev’ry Field, and ev’ry Deſart ſtray’d;

With wiſhing Eyes they ſearch’d around,

But wholeſom Streams they no where found:

In this Diſtreſs, upon their Gods they call;

Before their Shrines the fainting Suppliants fall:

They to their Iſis, and Oſiris cry’d,

But all in vain; their Wants were not ſupply’d.

61. Frogs N7v 48


Frogs in vaſt Numbers from the Rivers came,

And with loud Crokings their Aſcent proclaim:

With hideous Clamors they the Land invade,

The Temples fill’d, and in the Royal Chambers ſtay’d:

While on their loathſom Gueſts the People gaze,

Succeeding Wonders heighten their Amaze:

Dry earthy Particles prolifick prove,

Each animated Duſt does move:

On Men and Beaſts the eager Inſects ſeiſe,

And with a bloody Feaſt their hungry Stomachs pleaſe:

Theſe ſoon were follow’d by vaſt Swarms of Flies,

Which fill’d the Earth, and darken’d all the Skies;

In Triumph rode the Circuit of the Air,

And play’d, and wanton’d there,

And neither Pharaoh, nor his Gods revere.


A deadly Ill does on their Cattle ſeiſe;

They faint, they ſink, they yield to the Diſeaſe:

From th’ unerring Shaft ’twere vain to fly,

They in the Fields, and at the Altars die:

The ſmall Remain with grievous Boils were ſeis’d:

Nor were the harmleſs Beaſts alone diſeas’d;

With them th’ infectious Ill their Maſters ſhare,

With them, the noiſom Sickneſs bear:

As they were murm’ring at their Fate,

And curſing their abhorr’d Eſtate,

They ſaw new Plagues preparing in the Air,

Black N8r 49

Black dreadful Clouds were gath’ring there;

Loud Thunders roar, and forky Lightnings fly

With glaring Terror croſs the darken’d Sky,

Vapors congeal’d, in mighty Hail deſcend,

And certain Ruin did its Fall attend:

Nor Men, nor Beaſts its Fury cou’d avoid;

The Fields it ſpoil’d, and ev’ry Herb deſtroy’d;

The Trees it rob’d of all their native Green,

And nothing round their Roots but ſcatter’d Boughs were ſeen:

The frighted Peaſants with Amazement ſtrook,

With trembling Haſte their rural Cares forſook,

To cloſeſt Caves, and ſacred Vaults they fled,

And there, remain’d ſecure, among the happier dead.


At all their Ills Pharaoh remain’d unmov’d,

His flinty Heart more hard than Marble prov’d:

He ſtill reſolv’d the Hebrews to detain;

And for their ſakes was plagu’d again:

With fatal Haſte vaſt Flights of Locuſts came.

Their Prince, the ſuff’ring People blame;

And ſee with Grief, the quick Devourers ſhar’d,

That little which the Hail had ſpar’d.

Thick darkning Vapors from the Earth ariſe,

And with their clammy Atoms fill all th’ ambient Skies;

So vaſt their Numbers, no one Ray of Light

Cou’d penetrate the Shades of that black horrid Night:

Three Days they ſate hid from each other’s view,

And all their Sighs, their Tears, their ſad Complaints renew.

Highly N8v 50

Highly provok’d by their obdurate King,

God did on them a greater Judgment bring:

While with ſoft Sleep they ſtrove to calm their Grief,

And hop’d to find in Slumbers ſome Relief,

To ev’ry Houſe he the Deſtroyer ſent,

And bid him all the Firſt-born kill;

With Haſte he on the dreadful Errand went,

And did the dire Command fulfil:

Amaz’d, and griev’d the ſad Egyptians riſe,

And with ſhrill Screeches, and loud diſmal Cries,

Proclaim their Loſs, and to their King repair,

And beg he wou’d his mourning Subjects ſpare:

They ſaw impending Dangers threaten from on high,

And fear’d they ſhou’d like their dear Off-ſpring die:

With Horror ſtruck, they their ſad ſuit renew’d:

Mov’d by their Prayers he did at length relent;

And by their Sighs and Tears ſubdu’d,

From Egypt he the joyful Hebrews ſent.


Their great Preſerver now their Guide became;

By Night he led them with a bright auſpicious Flame;

By Day a Cloud did their Conductor prove,

Thus were they ſtill the Care of his unweary’d Love.

Th’ Egyptian Tyrant ſoon his Rage renew’d,

And with a num’rous Hoſt the frighted Jews purſu’d:

On th’ Erythræan Shore they trembling ſtay’d,

And thence the Sea, and their approaching Foes ſurvey’d:

Inclos’d with Dangers, to their God they cry’d,

To O1r 51

To him, who never yet his Aid deny’d:

When thus diſtreſt, he bid the Sea retire;

Th’ obſequious Sea with Haſte obey’d,

And at an awful Diſtance ſtay’d,

While they were thro’ its Depths from all their Fears convey’d:

With joyful Speed amid the Shades of Night,

They follow’d their directing Fire,

And by its glorious Light,

View’d all the Wonders of the new-form’d Way,

And ſaw their God his mighty Pow’r diſplay.

The raſh Egyptians ſtill their Steps purſu’d,

And thought they might be now with Eaſe ſubdu’d;

Onward they went, puſh’d forward by their Fate,

And ſaw no Danger till it was too late.


When the ſafe Shore the Iſraelites had gain’d,

The Sea no longer was reſtrain’d,

But with tumultuous Haſte its ancient Ground regain’d.

From Place to Place the loſt Purſuers fled,

And vainly ſtrove th’ impetuous Waves to ſhun,

Each Path to ſome new Danger led,

They could not from ſurrounding Waters run:

Strugling and weary to their Gods they cry’d,

And full of Horror, and Confuſion dy’d:

The joyful People, when returning Day

Had chas’d the melancholy Shades away,

Saw on the Shore the dead Egyptians lie,

With Arms and Horſes ſcatter’d by;

Thick as Autumnal Leaves they lay,

To ev’ry rav’nous Bird, and ev’ry Beaſt a Prey.

O 66. Thoſe O1v 52


Thoſe mighty Men, whom they ſo lately fear’d,

Now Objects of Contempt appear’d:

With Joy they gaz’d, and as they gaz’d, they ſung;

The Heav’nly Arch with cheerful Accents rung:

With thankful Hearts they their Protector bleſs’d,

And in ſweet moving Strains their Gratitude expreſs’d.

Then forward march’d, by the ſame Kindneſs led,

Secur’d from Dangers, and divinely fed

With Angels Food, with pure celeſtial Bread:

Thus favour’d, they thro’ trackleſs Deſarts went,

Where from hard Rocks reviving Streams were ſent:

Continu’d Mercies fill’d each circling Hour,

The rich Productions of unbounded Pow’r!

In vain againſt them warlike Nations roſe,

In vain ’gainſt them combine,

In vain their conqu’ring Arms oppoſe;

In vain was ev’ry deep Deſign:

Without Succeſs, their Stratagems they try,

Without Succeſs, to lawleſs Arts they fly:

In vain did Moab Altars raiſe,

In vain deſir’d the Prophet’s Aid,

In vain that he wou’d curſe them pray’d:

In vain the Seer to curſe the Bleſt eſſay’d:

An inward Force, a Pow’r Divine,

Turn’d his intended Curſes into Praiſe:

Compell’d, their Triumphs he fortels,

Long on the hated Subject dwells.

Thus bleſt, and proſper’d by Almighty Love,

In ſacred Pomp their Forces onward move;

And full of Glory, reach’d the happy Soil,

The O2r 53

The kind Reward of their obedient Toil,

The promis’d Canaan; where, the fruitful Ground

Did with rich Nature’s choiceſt Gifts abound,

And where, their Wiſhes were with full Fruitition crown’d.


Ye ſacred Prieſts, who at the Altar wait,

And there, well-skill’d in Rites Divine,

His wondrous Paſſion celebrate,

In whom uprecedented Love did ſhine:

Extol his Name, enlarge upon his Praiſe,

And as it merits, the great Subject raiſe:

With Zeal, and Clearneſs, holy Truths relate;

And ſtrive by Reaſon to convince the Mind:

Let uſeleſs Subtilties, thoſe Tricks of Pride,

Thoſe Masks that Ignorance does chuſe

Her Sloth, and her Deformity to hide,

No Place in your Diſcourſes find:

For ſolid Notions, baniſh empty Shews,

And in the nobleſt Cauſe your Rhet’rick uſe:

No more in vain Diſputes engage;

No more a War with diff’rent Parties wage,

But make it your whole Buſ’neſs to reform the Age:

With Vice alone the Combat try,

To vanquiſh that your Skill apply;

And with a Courage dauntleſs and ſublime,

A Courage, worthy of your Faith, and you,

Exert your utmoſt Strength the Hydra to ſubdue.

Preach Juſtice to the Great, to ſuch as climb

With guilty Haſte the dang’rous Heights of Fame,

And wade thro’ Blood to Grandeur and a Name.

Tell them a Nemeſis Divine,

Does all the Actions of Mankind ſurvey,

O2 Sees O2v 54

Sees each ambitious, each unjuſt Deſign;

And tho’ Oppreſſors proſper for a while,

And Fortune ſeems on their Attempts to ſmile,

Yet in the laſt impartial Day,

God with eternal Vengeance will their Crimes repay.


Tell thoſe whoſe Bliſs is to their Wealth confin’d,

Virtue’s the greateſt Treaſure they can gain,

A Treaſure which for ever will remain.

Perſuade them with a bounteous Mind

To be to the deſerving Needy Kind,

And like that God to whom they all things owe,

Their Riches freely to beſtow.

Th’ unthinking Proud unto themſelves make known;

Tell them they’ve nothing they can call their own:

Thoſe things they boaſt, may ſoon be ſnatch’d away,

They can’t inſure their Bliſs for one ſhort Moment’s ſtay.

Wealth may be loſt, and beauty will decay:

Titles are vain, and what they Honour call,

Does often to the Share of the unworthy fall:

Inconſtant Fortune blindly does beſtow

Promiſcuous Favours with a careleſs Hand;

Sometimes ſhe lifts the Mean on high,

And Sons of Earth again inſult the Sky;

On the bright airy Heights of Pow’r they ſtand,

Prais’d and ador’d by all below;

While ſuch as merit Empires, live obſcure,

And all th’ Indignities of Fate endure.

69. Perſuade O3r 55


Perſuade all ſuch as of their Knowledge proud,

Caſt ſcornful Glances on th’ illiterate Croud,

To look within, and let each haughty Thought

Be to the Teſt of ſober Reaſon brought:

Tell them their Pride from Ign’rance flows,

He’s ever humbleſt who moſt knows:

Thoſe whoſe rich Souls are always bright,

Who live encompaſs’d round with intellectual Light,

Do in their Minds a thouſand Errors ſee,

And ſeldom are from their own Cenſures free:

Their Wiſdom adds but to their Pain,

And they by their Reſearches gain

Only uncertain Notices of Truth:

When they to outward Objects turn their Sight,

They find them all involv’d in Night;

Like fleeting Shadows they eſcape their view:

If at th’ Expence of Health, of Eaſe, and Youth,

They the thin airy Forms purſue,

Themſelves they tire with the long toilſom Race,

And loſe at laſt the Phantoms which they chaſe:

The World of Learning none could yet explore;

The moſt laborious only coaſt it round the Shore;

View Creeks, and Bays, and diſtant Mountains ſee,

The reſt is hid from Human Induſtry.


Teach the luxurious with a noble Scorn

To look on all the glitt’ring Trifles here below:

Tell them they were for higher Buſ’neſs born,

And on their Minds ſhould all their Thoughts beſtow;

O3 There O3v 56

There all their Care, and all their Skill ſhould ſhow.

Tell them the Pomp of Life is but a Snare,

Riches, Temptations which they ought to fear,

Empire, a burthen few have Strength enough to bear.

The true, ſubſtantial Wealth is lodg’d within;

’Tis there the brighteſt Gems are found:

Such as wou’d great and glorious Treaſures win,

Treaſures which theirs for ever will remain,

Muſt Piety and Wiſdom ſtrive to gain:

Thoſe ſhining Ornaments which always prove

Incentives to Reſpect and Love.

Virtue its Splendor ever will retain,

And Wiſdom ſtill an inward State maintain;

Still in the Soul with a Majeſtick Grandeur reign.

In vicious Minds they Admiration raiſe,

What they won’t practice, they are forc’d to praiſe:

With gnawing Envy they their Triumphs view,

But dare not their malignant Rancor ſhew,

Nor undiſguis’d the Dictates of their Spite purſue:

Like Birds obſcene they ſhun th’ offenſive Light,

And hide themſelves beneath the gloomy Veil of Night.

Thrice bleſt are they who’re with interior Graces crown’d,

Whoſe Minds with rational Delights abound,

With Pleaſures more delicious, more refin’d,

Than the voluptous can in their Enjoyments find;

Such Pleaſures as ne’er yet regal’d their Senſe,

Which Earth can’t give, nor mightieſt Kings diſpence,

And whoſe Deſcription far exceeds the Pow’r of Eloquence.

71. To O4r 57


To th’ Intemperate, Abſtinence commend,

Tell them what Miſchiefs vicious Lives attend:

How ſoon Exceſſes will their Health deſtroy,

That chiefeſt Bleſſing here below;

That unexhauſted Spring of Joy,

Without which, all things elſe inſpid grow.

Tell them tho’ now they kind Inſtructions ſlight,

And their unhappy Conduct praiſe;

Yet when they’re to Diſeaſes made a Prey,

They’ll then for their retrieveleſs Follies mourn,

And in Repentance languiſh out each painful Day.

To pleaſe the Taſte is but a mean Delight;

The Bliſs of Beaſts, and not of Men:

And all thoſe Arts by which their Appetites they raiſe,

Are only finer, more compendious Ways

Deſtructive Poiſons to convey.

How happy ſhou’d we be, if we agen

To the firſt rules of Living cou’d return,

By Nature, the beſt Tut’reſs taught,

Her juſt and eaſie Laws obey,

Like thoſe ſhe on th’ early Stage of Action brought?

Who to few Things their Wiſhes could confine,

On Herbs and Fruits contentedly cou’d dine;

To quench their Thirſt of cryſtal Springs cou’d drink;

Pure cryſtal Springs the want of Wine ſupply’d:

No harmleſs Beaſt t’appeaſe their Hunger dy’d.

From Bough to Bough Birds unmoleſted flew.

They ſought no Pomp, no Delicacies knew

Nor Wealth admir’d,

O4 That O4v 58

That greasteſt Plague of Life;

Nor glorious Palaces deſir’d;

But underneath ſome pleaſant Shade,

Strangers to Toil, to Care and Strife,

Did ſweetly ſleep, or calmly think;

To one another kind Diſcourſes made,

With Cheerfulneſs their Conſciences obey’d,

And to their God a joyful Homage paid.


Temp’rance is ſtill Companion of the Wiſe;

They only can thoſe Snares avoid,

By which th’ Imprudent are with ſo much Eaſe deſtroy’d:

They only taſte thoſe Pleaſures which from Abſtinence ariſe;

Thoſe pure Delights, thoſe Banquets of the Mind,

Which from enlighten’d Reaſon ſpring:

Reaſon, when from the Dregs of Senſe refin’d,

From all thoſe Steams, thoſe darkning Vapors freed,

Which from Exceſs proceed;

When no thick Damps of Earth retard its Flight,

Or make it flag the Wing,

Will boldly ſoar on high,

Above the Atmoſphere,

Where all is calm, and all is clear,

And there, at Pleaſure fly,

Bleſs’d with a free, diſtinct, unclouded Sight

Of all thoſe Glories which adorn the happy Realms of Light.

Our Faculties will all awake,

And each will ſprightly grow,

Exert its Pow’r, and its whole Force will ſhow:

Th’ Imagination quick and active prove,

Thro’ O5r 59

Thro’ the whole Compaſs of created Nature rove:

Collect bright Images, from them Ideas make,

From ev’ry Object ſome new Hint will take,

And with them entertain the Mind,

And Buſ’neſs for the Underſtanding find:

The Underſtanding more ſublime will grow,

We ſhall more accurately think, and much more fully know.


To the Revengeful teach the gen’rous Way,

With Kindneſs, Inj’ries to repay:

Tell them ’tis great, and ſhews a noble Mind,

To paſs Affronts regardleſs by,

And look on Contumelies with a careleſs Eye:

The brave an inward Firmneſs find;

They will not from their State deſcend:

Like Rocks they dare the Tide and Wind,

Themſelves from ev’ry Storm defend.

Reproaches from the Earth like Vapors riſe,

And fill with Noiſe the lower Skies.

But cannot to ſuperior Regions fly:

They are above the Sphere of their Activity.

What we call Wrongs would not be ſo,

Nor the leaſt Impreſſion make,

Did we our ſelves not aid each Blow.

’Tis from Opinion we our Meaſures take;

And often rage, complain and weep

For things, which of themſelves would no Offences prove,

Wou’d not our Indignation move,

If we but judg’d aright,

And view’d them in their true and proper Light.

Reaſon, did we its help deſire,

Wou’d O5v 60

Wou’d its Aſſiſtance lend;

Wou’d us impaſſive keep,

Or from Attacks defend:

With pious Sentiments wou’d us inſpire,

Tell us ’tis glorious to forgive;

Bid us all angry Thoughts expel,

And by the beſt of Patterns live;

The ſuff’ring J E S U S, who lov’d thoſe ſo well,

From whom he did the utmoſt Scorn ſuſtain,

By whom revil’d he liv’d, and was unpity’d ſlain,

That in th’ extremeſt Agonies of Death,

He pray’d for them with his departing Breath.


Thou bleſt Example of tranſcendent Love!

O may we in thy ſhining Footſteps move!

By thee inſtructed, to our Foes be kind;

With their Miſtakes, their Frailties bear;

And with a mild commiſerating Mind,

The guilty Sallies of their Paſſions ſee,

Yet keep our ſelves from the Contagion free:

Good, for their Evil let us ſtill return,

And for their Sins, and Follies mourn:

Our ſelves to them by friendly Acts endear;

Not only make our Patience to appear,

But them with gen’rous Tenderneſs purſue,

To them repeated Favors ſhew,

With their Averſion thus a War maintain,

And not leave off, till we the Conqueſt gain;

Till all their Enmities and Quarrels ceaſe,

And we enjoy the Halcyon Calms of Peace.

75. Sincerity O6r 61


Sincerity and Truth to this bad Age

With all your Rhet’rick recommend;

You cannot in a nobler Cauſe engage,

Nor more the Word befriend:

Tell falſe deſigning Men, ’tis much below

Th’ exalted Creature Man, ſuch little Tricks to ſhow:

To fawn, deceive, and cringe, for ſordid Ends,

For worthleſs Gold, or for the Bubble Fame,

For Grandeur, Pow’r, or for the Trifle call’d a Name.

Heroick Souls ſuch Meanneſſes deſpiſe,

They ſcorn to circumvent their greateſt Enemies,

And wou’d much ſooner die than once delude their Friend;

Honour and Conſcience are to them more dear,

Than all the Gifts which fortune can beſtow,

Themſelves they more than all the World revere,

Still to themſelves the higheſt Def’rence pay,

And Reaſon as their Lord obey:

Unworthy Actions they diſdain to do,

Are juſt to others, to themſelves are true;

One uniform, direct, and ſteady Courſe purſue;

Intrepid and unmov’d ſtill onward go,

And no concern for Cenſures, or Applauſes ſhow;

Deſire no Gain, but what from Virtue ſprings,

Nor wiſh for any higher Praiſe, than what ſhe brings.

76. Thus O6v 62


Thus to your Auditors their Duty ſhew,

Teach them their Paſſions to ſubdue,

To ſhun each Vice, and ev’ry Good purſue:

And that your Precepts may ſucceſsful prove,

Practice thoſe Virtues you wou’d have them love:

Strict blameleſs Lives, will more than Words, perſuade;

We’re by Examples chiefly ſway’d:

Like beauteous Pictures they invite;

At once they fix, and entertain the Sight,

And yield us both Inſtruction and Delight.

Hapyy! O happy they

Who like the lucid Spring of Day,

At once both Life and Warmth convey;

Who to Mankind ſuch pious Leſſons give,

And univerſal Bleſſings live:

Their holy Labours due Rewards ſhall find,

And Wreaths of Glory their immortal Temples bind.


Ye Servants of the Lord your Homage pay;

To your great Maſter thankful prove,

Before his Throne th’ expected Tribute lay

Of Gratitude and Love:

Obſerve his Laws, and let each stubborn Thought

Be a Submiſſion to his Precepts taught:

In your Diſcourſes praiſe his holy Name,

And let your Actions at his Glory aim:

Since all that’s yours you to his Bounty owe,

Be O7r 63

Be grateful, and your ſelves on him beſtow,

No other Good, no other Joy, no other Buſ’neſs know.


Ye holy Souls, who from your Bondage free,

Have reach’d th’ inmoſt Manſions of the Skie,

And there, thoſe dazling Glories ſee,

Which lie

Beyond the utmoſt Ken of a weak mortal Eye:

Adore his Goodneſs who has broke your Chains,

And put a Period to your Pains;

And gives you leave in Vehicles more fine,

More active, more divine,

To live at large in the ſoft balmy Air,

And feaſt on ev’ry Pleaſure there;

Pleaſures adapted to your nobler Taſte,

And ſuch as will not in th’ Enjoyment waſte,

How vaſtly diff’rent is your preſent State,

From that which you once liv’d below!

Here, Sickneſs did your Joys abate,

And Diſappointments, Injuries and Fears,

Render’d uneaſie your long tedious Years;

With Toil you gain’d that little you did know;

Laborious was the Task, and your Advances ſlow:

But now your Underſtandings are refin’d;

Your Reaſon ſtrong, your Knowledge unconfin’d;

Vaſt is your Proſpect, and enlarg’d your Sight,

At once you view this Earth, and all the Worlds of Light.

79. But O7v 64


But yet your Happineſs is not compleat;

There are reſerv’d for you Joys much more great;

Felicities proportion’d to a higher State:

To that bleſt State to which you ſhall aſcend,

To that bleſt State which ſhall your Wandrings end:

Where you no more ſhall Revolutions ſee,

But live from Dangers, and Temptations free:

Whither in glorious Bodies you ſhall go;

Not ſuch as you inform’d below;

But in immortal Bodies, which ſhall ever be

From Pains, from Death, and all Diſorders free:

Which ſhall be Proof againſt th’ Attacks of Fate,

Againſt th’ Aſſaults of Envy and of Rage,

And all th’ Efforts of dull deforming Age:

Whoſe Beauty ſtill ſhall in its Bloom appear,

Which ſtill Ten thouſand Charms ſhall wear;

Like Suns ſhall ever, ever ſhine,

But be than Suns more bright, their Luſtre all Divine:

With theſe lov’d Part’ners you ſhall ever ſtay,

And with the beatifick Viſion bleſt,

Employ your everlaſting Day

In Tranſports much too vaſt to be expreſt;

In Pleaſures which from boundleſs Goodneſs flow;

Which boundleſs Goodneſs only can beſtow,

And which none but the bleſt Poſſeſſors of thoſe Regions know.

80. Thoſe O8r 65


Thoſe happy Seats, where Love Divine

Does with refulgent Brightneſs ſhine:

Where, the great Suff’rer ſits inthron’d,

And is with univerſal Plaudits own’d:

Where his bleſt Mother her Reward has found,

And by him ſtands, with beamy Glories crown’d:

Where, on their golden Harps rejoicing Angels play,

And in melodious Strains their pleaſing Homage pay:

Where, ev’ry Object Extaſies do’s raiſe,

And where, with them, you’ll ſing your bounteous Maker’s Praiſe.

O bleſt Employment! O ſupreme Delight!

O wondrous Place! and O more wondrous Sight!


Look, deareſt Saviour, with a pitying Eye,

On thoſe for whom thou didſt with ſo much Kindneſs die:

Raiſe our dull Souls above the Joys of Senſe,

Above thoſe Trifles Earth can give:

And when by Death we’re ſummon’d hence,

Let us for ever in thy Preſence live;

In thy lov’d Preſence, where is all Delight,

All that can charm the Mind, or pleaſe the Sight,

All, all that can the moſt aſpiring Soul invite:

And ye bleſt Spirits who have liv’d below,

And who our Miſeries by your own Experience know,

Add your Requeſts, and beg that we may ſhare

Your O8v 66

Your Pleaſures and with you immortal Glories wear;

Then we’ll together join in Hymns of Praiſe,

Together Trophies to our dear Deliv’rer raiſe,

Together at his Feet our Joys make known,

And with one Voice his unexampl’d Kindneſs own.


Ye holy Men, whoſe humble Hearts are free

From ſwelling Pride, and childiſh Vanity:

Who know your ſelves, and all thoſe Arts deſpiſe,

Which others uſe, to make themſelves thought wiſe:

Who own your Faults, and without Anger bear

Reproofs, and never think them too ſevere:

Who judge your ſelves, and ſtill employ’d within,

Have neither Leiſure, nor Deſire,

To cenſure thoſe with whom you live:

Their Failures, Pity in your Breaſts inſpire,

And you Allowances for human Frailties give:

The vicious you with Kindneſs ſtrive to win,

And in the ſofteſt Language tell them of their Sin;

But while you their immoral Actions blame,

You with the niceſt Care conceal their Shame,

Their Perſons you eſteem, and ſtill preſerve their Fame:

O praiſe that God from whom theſe Virtues flow;

Him, for your heav’nly Tempers bleſs;

Diſcharge ſome Part of that vaſt Debt you owe,

In fervent, and unweary’d Thankfulneſs.

83. Ye P1r 67


Ye Jewiſh Heroes, whoſe unſhaken Zeal

Was Proof aginſt the ſtrong Efforts of Pow’r;

Who in that trying Hour,

When the Aſſyrian Monarch menac’d high,

And Death ſtood threatning by,

Would not your holy Faith conceal:

Before the Idol you refus’d to fall,

And wou’d not on the glorious Nothing call.

With noble Scorn you to the Tyrant ſpoke,

And did his utmoſt Rage provoke:

Seize them he cry’d, and let them feel that Pain,

And meet that Fate which they ſo much diſdain:

Heat hotter yet the Furnace they deſpiſe,

And let its Flames with frightning Horror riſe:

You dauntleſs ſaw the dire Command obey’d,

And by his mightieſt Men were to the Fire convey’d,

By thoſe, who with their Lives, for their Obedience pay’d.


Safe in the burning Furnace you remain’d,

And walk’d unmov’d, and calmly there:

The Fire on your impaſſive Bodies gain’d

No more Advantage than on fluid Air:

The lambent Flames incircling Glories prov’d,

Round you the waving Splendors play’d;

And that th’ admiring Croud might ſee

How much you were belov’d,

The God you ſerv’d, whoſe Laws you ſtill obey’d,

Did to your Aid a glorious Angel ſend,

P And P1v 68

And bid him your Companion be:

Th’ obſequious Miniſter of Light

Did from ſuperior Joys deſcend,

And hither came your Triumphs to attend:

Th’ aſtoniſh’d King beheld the dazling Sight,

And wonder’d at a Form ſo bright:

With eager’ſt Haſte he call’d you from the Fire,

And did th’ amazing Pow’r of your great God admire.


O bleſs, for ever bleſs his holy Name,

From whom your wondrous Courage came:

That Courage, which was your Support

Amid the tempting Glories of a vicious Court:

Which kept you firm, when both the Great, and Wiſe,

Were by their Fear, to mean Submiſſions led;

You did ev’n then the Tyrant’s Threats deſpiſe,

And brav’d thoſe Dangers they ſo much did dread:

Life, on vile impious Terms you did refuſe,

And, unconcern’d, did all your Honours loſe:

Inclos’d with Terrors, you intrepid ſtood,

And durſt amidſt a guilty Croud be good.

Now you the Purchaſe of your Faith enjoy,

And in a State Divine,

Among the bleſt Confeſſors ſhine,

In grateful Retributions all your Time employ:

Recount with Joy the Wonders wrought for you,

And with continu’d Zeal the pleaſing Theme purſue;

His Favours to admiring Saints rehearſe,

And cloth your Raptures in harmonious Verſe;

With charming Numbers their Attention move,

And loudly ſing the Triumphs of his Love.

86. To P2r 69


To God the Father let us Glory give,

Unto th’ immortal King,

The great Original of all,

In whom we center, and in whom we live,

With never ceaſing Ardor ſing:

The Benefits which he beſtows,

For conſtant Praiſes call,

A gen’rous Soul no higher Pleaſure knows,

Than paying what he owes.

Let narrow Minds, let grov’ling Sons of Earth,

Stick to that Dirt from whence they have their Birth;

On glitt’ring Duſt let them with Tranſports gaze,

And never their dull Eyes to nobler Objects raiſe:

While we by better Principles inſpir’d,

Will learn to think aright;

And having a due Senſe of things acquir’d,

To the all-bounteous Giver turn our Sight:

The diſtant Streams we’ll paſs regardleſs by,

And to the Source of Bleſſings ſwiftly fly,

There quench our Thirſt, and then replete with Joy,

In Hallelujahs all our Hours employ.


Th’ eternal son let all the World revere,

With his great Father let him equal Glory ſhare:

And let us ſtill, with thankful Hearts, retain

A grateful Senſe of Favours paſt,

Long as our Lives, may the Remembrance laſt.

O Love, thou ſweeteſt Paſſion of the Mind,

P2 Thou P2v 70

Thou gentleſt Calmer of the Storms within,

Where didſt thou ever find,

A kinder welcom, a more noble Seat,

Than in his Breaſt, who by Compaſſion led,

And by the tender’ſt Sentiments poſſeſt,

Left undeſir’d, his everlaſting Reſt,

Left that bright Place, where Light Divine has ſpread

Its glitt’ring Beams around,

Where all that’s charming, all that’s good is found,

And where unutterable Joys abound:

Left it for us, when all deform’d with Sin,

And for our ſakes with Patience did ſuſtain

Th’ intenſeſt Sorrow, and the ſharpeſt Pain.

O who, unmov’d, ſuch Goodneſs can repeat!

Or who enough the dear Obliger praiſe!

Such wondrous Kindneſs a Return does claim,

And in us equal Flames ſhould raiſe.

Of all the Virtues we can boaſt,

’Tis Gratitude becomes us moſt,

It gives a Grace, a Varniſh to our Fame,

And adds a Splendor to the brighteſt Name.

But where, O where, can it a Subject find!

Like this among the Race of human Kind:

Who ever did ſuch Obligations lay!

O let us ſtrive the mighty Debt to pay:

Let meaner Objects now no more delight,

Nor leſſer Favours entertain the Mind,

For to our Love he has a double Right,

Both by his Merit, and by being kind.


To that bleſt Spirit who does us inſpire

With every grateful, every good Deſire,

Let P3r 71

Let us due Honour pay,

And with attentive Heed, and reverential Fear,

His holy Motions entertain,

And all his gentle Whiſpers hear:

Now he his Gifts in ſecret does convey;

On Minds prepar’d, like Morning Dews they fall;

Thro’ unreſiſting Air they make their ſilent Way,

And unobſerv’d, Admittance gain:

Not ſo of old th’ Inſpirer did deſcend;

Then wondrous Pomp his coming did attend;

With a loud ruſhing Sound amisdſt the faithful Few

The God his bright Appearance made,

And on each ſacred Head the glorious Viſion ſtay’d:

The num’rous Gazers trembl’d at the Sight,

An awful Horror ſeiz’d on all,

But ’twas a Horror mingl’d with Delight;

At once their Pleaſure, and their fear they ſhew’d,

And with fixt Eyes the dazling Wonders view’d.


But O, how great was their Surprize,

To what a Height did their Amazement riſe,

When by the bleſt Apoſtles they were told

Important Truths till then unknown,

In Languages peculiarly their own!

Parthians and Medes, and thoſe whoſe fruitful Land

Betwixt Euphrates and ſwift Tygris lies;

With thoſe who heard the ſtormy Euxine roar;

Natives of Aſia, and Pamphylia’s fertile Soil,

With ſuch as dwelt nigh the Ægean Shore,

Near that fam’d Place, where Ilium ſtood of old,

And where, by flow’ry Banks, divine Scamander roll’d:

Egyptians, P3v 72

Egyptians, Cretans, and that warlike Race

Who liv’d in Tents amid the barren Sand;

With thoſe who breath’d ſcorch’d Lybia’s ſultry Air,

Where fond of Toil,

And pleas’d with rural Care,

They dwelt ſecure; of Eaſe and Peace poſſeſt,

Envy’d by none, and with Contentment bleſt:

Inhabitants of Rome, that auguſt Place,

That glorious Seat of independent Sway,

Which to the proſtrate World gave Law,

And ſtill does Sovereign Princes awe,

And the moſt haughty makes obey:

All theſe they taught; to each themſelves addreſt;

And with a ſudden Elocution bleſt,

In ev’ry diff’rent Tongue, their flowing Notions dreſt.


O let ſuch Glory ſtill be given

To theſe eternal three,

This great united one,

By the Poſſeſſors both of Earth and Heav’n,

As was by Infant Nature pay’d

As ſoon as Time begun to be,

And God, no longer pleas’d to live alone,

His mighty Pow’r had ſhown,

And for his Honour noble Creatures made;

Creatures, deſign’d to celebrate his Fame,

To build immortal Trophies to his Name,

And make his Service their immediate Aim:

And ſuch as is by all the grateful here,

And by the num’rous Hoſts above,

Who think they never can enough revere

Amazing Goodneſs, and unbounded Love,

With 73

With Ardor pay’d in Strains Divine:

And ſuch as ſhall, when Time ſhall be no more,

But vaſt Eternity, like ſome high ſwelling Flood,

Shall paſs its long confining Shore,

Paſs all thoſe Banks which its Inſults withſtood;

And o’er the whole extend its mighty Sway,

And ſweep both us, and all our towring Thoughts away,

The joyful Buſ’neſs prove

Of thoſe bleſt Souls, who in the Realms of Light

Shall on the beatifick Viſion gaze,

And then with Tranſports of Delight,

In one harmonious Song combine,

And in the nobleſt Flights of Love and Praiſe,

Employ with an unweary’d Zeal, their everlaſting Days.