And the dear paffion may remain
Fix'd as your own eternal reign.
Daphnis, dearest youth, excufe
The roving transports of the mufe;
If, while fantaftic joys the feigns,
To cafe her real, mighty pains,
Joys too glorious to conceive,
Too vaft to hope, or to believe,
Unmindful for a while fhe be
Of facred friendship, and of thee.
Friendship's holy link, that binds
In ftricteft ties the nobleft minds,
My grateful foul fhall never break:
For thee a thousand vows I make,
And for thy blifs, my conftant care,
I tire the gracious Gods with pray'r.
Thro' all thy life may'st thou poffefs
Uninterrupted happiness:
Serene may ev'ry fun arife,
To light thee to fucceffive joys;
May ev'ry hour glide smooth away,
And smiling as a fummer's day.
No anxious thoughts diftract thy breast,
And no unpleafing dreams infeft
Thy downy fleep and filken reft.
Whene'er thou lov'ft, be light thy chain,
And gentle thy fair tyrant's reign;
Soft and melting may she be,
Artlefs, innocent, and free;
And in one word, to fum the reft,
That thou may'st be completely bleft;
In mind, in form, in mien, and air,
As near with Delia to compare,
As Heav'n can make another fair.
Ye Pow'rs, (if any Pow'rs there be,
That mind fo mean a wretch as me)
From your exalted stations hear,
And listen to my humble pray'r.
Your choiceft gifts on Anna fhed,
Deck with fresh laurels Marlbro's head
Let the vast minds that guide the ftate,
Be without crimes or envy great:
In lower spheres my wishes move,
I ask no other bliss but love.
Let fullen ftars refuse to blefs
My meaner aims at happiness;
Let envious fortune blast my toil,
And all things frown, if Delia fmile.
Tremble, mean fouls, when lightnings fly,
And thunders rend the diftant sky,
Secure the rifing ftorm I'll wait,
And crave the malice of my fate:
Only let the tender fair
Eafe the fuff'rings I must bear,
With gentle pity cure my fmart,
Appease each horror in my heart,
Indulge my hopes, allow my fires,
And own the paffion fhe infpires;
While I eternal vows repeat,
And die in raptures at her feet.
Pardon, Daphnis, ftill I rove;
Whatever subject I would prove,
Still I return to her, and love.
Delia's my everlasting theme,
My waking thought, my nightly dream :
For her alone I touch the ftring,
For her in artless numbers fing;
I neither court, nor hope the bays,
Too bleft, if she accept my lays,
Pity the weak unable mufe,
And what the cannot praife, excufe.
Thou too, my friend, content receive
The wretched presents I can give.
The feeble mufe unpractis'd fings
In humble notes of humble things.
Perhaps when the black storms blow o'er,
When the waves gently kifs the shore,
And wars and tumults are no more ;
When peace with balmy wings shall smile,
And brood aufpicious on our isle;
My foul with the bright profpect fir'd,
With nobler warmth fhall be infpir'd,
With new-born ftrength fhall dare to rise,
And in bold flights attempt the fkies;
Paint all the gay tranfporting scene,
And fing the Hero, and the Queen :
Then with just fires, and loftier lays,
I'll speak my friendship, and thy praise :
Great as thy theme my force fhall be,
And all my numbers worthy thee.
DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER SAUL
OFFSPRING of Ifrael, by peculiar grace
Distinguish'd from the rest of human race,
With fplendid names and haughty titles proud,
Fav'rites of Heav'n, the chofen feed of God;
Too bleft while Saul your conqu'ring armies led,
And Jonathan commanded at their head;
With a long train of fhining glories crown'd,
The envy and the dread of all the nations round
Now prefs'd beneath a lofs without relief,
And only great and eminent in grief;
In all the pomp of moving forrow come,
To pay vain honours at your prince's tomb.
Your beauty and your glory loft deplore;
The great are fall'n, the mighty are no more,
Let all mankind the glorious dead bemoan,
From pole to pole be wide the ruin known.
Ye gentle streams, with your kind waves diffuse
Throughout the realms you bless, the dismal news,
And bid th' unbounded waters, as they flow,
Convey to worlds unknown the mighty woe.
Winds, that in tempests Heav'n s just wrath declare,
And
you that in foft murmurs fan the air,
In all your fleeting courfes thro' the sky,
Bear on your wings our lofs, and spread it as you fly:
Only of Gath and Ascalon beware,
Nor whisper out the fatal secret there;
Left the detefted race, our ancient hate,
Hear the fad found, and triumph in our fate.
Ah! 'tis in vain, the long untasted joys
Already fill their minds with glad surprise,
Glow on their cheeks, and sparkle in their eyes.
The vile idolaters the temples crowd,
With coftly spices ev'ry altar load;
And while the sky's obfcur'd with fragrant smoke,
Their senseless fancied deities invoke,
Their impious madness openly proclaim,
And loud blafpheme th' unutterable name.
With nicest art, the unbelieving fair
Give a new luftre to each tempting air,
Point ev'ry dart, and level all their charms,
To win some haughty warrior to their arms,
O'er fome great chief an easy conquest gain,
And drag the conqu'ror in a willing chain.
The barb'rous poets tune their loftiest lays,
To reach in aukward notes the victor's praise ;
In artless numbers celebrate the day,
And boast of vict'ry and of Gilboa.
Gilboa curft mount! thou ever hated ground,
To after-times by our defeat renown'd!
No more on thee let facred incenfe rife,
Perfume the neighb'ring plains, and glut the greedy skies:
No more on thee let gentle dews defcend,
Nor heav'n of fruitful fhow'rs the fuccour lend;
The defart earth nor fruits, nor herbage know,
But all be wild and barren as our woe!
Since upon thee our princes fell, the fhield
Vilely abandon'd on thy guilty field!
Thou faw'f the dreadful ruin we deplore;
On thee the great are fall'n, the mighty are no more.
O Saul! O Jonathan! illuftrious pair!
How great! how good! how excellent you were!
In peace our only pleasure and delight,
Our only fafety and defence in fight!
Philiftia oft' has felt Saul's mighty hand,
Scatt'ring wide defolation o'er the land;
Nor lefs the force of Jonathan has mourn'd,
Whose sword ne'er empty to his fheath return'd;
But deeply ftain'd, and glutted well with gore,
The nobleft and the best the hated nation bore.
Lefs fwift the eagle bears his prize away,
Lefs fierce the lion rends his panting prey.
Alike their fkill, alike their matchless art,
To twang the far-refounding how and dart
The never-erring jav'lin to the heart:
Alke they dar'd, and fought, and overcame,
The fame their martial fire and thirst of fame;
Ah! that their hapless end fhould alfo be the fame!
That hapless end we ever must deplore,
The great are fall'n the mighty are no more.
Ye num'rous fair that Ifrael's court adorn,
Above the reft, your prince, your monarch mourn;
For yours he was, ftoop'd to your pow'r alone,
Your pow'r that only could exceed his own.
|