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The Sigh, which fent forth that last tender word, Up towards the Heaven's like a bright Meteor

foar'd,

And the kind Nymph bereft of all her Charms,

Fell cold and breathlefs in her Lover's Arms; Which fhews, fince Death could deny him relief. That 'tis in vain we hope to die with grief.

Goddess, who now my Fate has understood, Spare but my Tears, and freely take my Blood; Here let me end the Story of my Cares,

My Dismal Grief enough the reft declares.
Judge thou by all this Mifery difplay'd,
Whether I ought not to implore thy aid:
Thus to furvive, reproaches on me draws,
And my fad wishes have too juft a Cause.

Come, then, my only hope; in every place Thou vifiteft, Men tremble at thy Face,

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And

And fear thy Name; once let thy fatal hand

Fall on a Swain, that does the blow demand.
Vouchsafe thy Dart: I need not one of those,
With which thou doft unwilling Kings depofe;
Thy weakeft, my defir'd release can bring,
And free my Soul already on her wing.

But fince all Prayers and Tears are vain, I'll try,
If, fpite of thee, 'tis poffible to die.

A PA

A

PARAPHRASE

On the CXLVIII.

PSALM.

By the Earl of Roscommon.

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Azure Vaults! O Crystal Sky!

The World's transparent Canopy,

Break your long filence, and let Mortals know, With what contempt you look on things below.

Wing'd Squadrons of the God of War,
Who Conquer wherefo'er you are,

Let

Let Ecchoing Anthems make his Praises known

On Earth,his Footstool,as in Heav'n his Throne.
Great Eye of All, whofe Glorious Ray
Rules the bright Empire of the Day.

O praise his Name, without whofe purer Light, Thou hadst been hid in an Abyss of Night:

་་

Ye Moon and Planets who difpence,

By God's Command your Influence,

Refign to him, as your Creator, due,
That Veneration which Men pay to you;
Faireft, as well as first of things,

From whom all Joy, all Beauty fprings.

O praise the Almighty Ruler of the Globe,
Who ufeth thee for his Empyreal Robe:
Praise him ye loud harmonious Spheres,
Whofe Sacred Stamp all Nature bears.

Who

Who did all Forms from the rude Chaos draw,

And whofe Command is th' univerfal Law;

Ye wat❜ry Mountains of the Sky,

And you fo far above our Eye.

Vaft ever-moving Orbs, Exalt his Name,
Who gave its being to your Glorious Frame:
Ye Dragons, whofe Contagious Breath
Peoples the dark Retreats of Death,

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Change your fierce hiffing into joyful Song, And praife your Maker with your forked Tongue. Praise him ye Monsters of the Deep.

That in the Seas vaft Bofoms fleep,

At whofe Command the foaming Billows roar, Yet know their Limits, Tremble, and Adore Ye Mifts and Vapours, Hail and Snow,

And you who through the Concave blow.

Swift

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