That spoke so sweetly and fo well.

What Paffion cannot Mufick raise and quell?

III.

The Trumpet's loud Clangor

Excites us to Arms,

With fhrill Notes of Anger

And mortal Alarms.

The double double double beat
Of the thund'ring Drum

Cries, hark! the Foes come;

Charge, Charge, 'tis too late to retreat.

IV.

The foft complaining Flute

In dying Notes discovers

The Woes of hopeless Lovers,

Whose Dirge is whisper'd by the warbling Lute.

V.

Sharp Violins proclaim

Their jealous Pangs, and Defperation,

Fury, frantick Indignation,

Depth of Pains, and height of Paffion,

For the fair, difdainful, Dame.

VI.

But oh! what Art can teach,

What human Voice can reach,

The facred Organ's praise?

Notes infpiring holy Love,

Notes that wing their Heavenly ways
To mend the Choirs above.

VII.

Orpheus cou'd lead the favage race;
And Trees uprooted left their place,
Sequacious of the Lyre:

But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:
When to her Organ vocal Breath was giv'n,
An Angel heard, and ftraight appear'd,
Miftaking Earth for Heav'n.

Grand

Grand CHORUS.

As from the pow'r of facred Lays
The Spheres began to move,
And fung the great Creator's praise
To all the Bless'd above s

So when the laft and dreadful hour
This crumbling Pageant fhall devour,
The Trumpet shall be heard on high,
The Dead fhall live, the Living die,
And Mufick fall untune the Sky.

On the Young STATESMEN.

CLA

LARENDON had Law and Senfe,
Clifford was fierce and brave;

Bennet's grave

Look was a pretence,
And Dy's matchlefs Impudence
Help'd to fupport the Knave.

But Sun-d, God-n, L-y,
These will appear fuch Chits in Story,
'Twill turn all Politicks to Jefts,

To be repeated like John Dory,

When Fidlers fing at Feasts.

Protect us, mighty Providence,

What wou'd thefe Madmen have?

First, they wou'd bribe us without Pence,
Deceive us without Common Sense,
And without Pow'r enflave.

Shall free-born Men, in humble awe,
Submit to fervile Shame ;

Who from Confent and Custom draw
The fame Right to be rul'd by Law,
Which Kings pretend to reign ?

The

The Duke fhall wield his conq'ring Sword,

The Chanc❜lor make a Speech,. The King fhall pass his honest Word, The pawn'd Revenue Sums afford,

And then, come kifs my Breech.

So have I feen a King on Chefs

(His Rooks and Knights withdrawn,
His Queen and Bifhops in diftrefs)
Shifting about, grow lefs and lefs,
With here and there a Pawn.

The TEARS of AM YNTA, for the Death of DAMON.

O

SONG.

I.

Na Bank, befide a Willow,

Heav'n her Cov'ring, Earth her Pillow,

Sad Amynta figh'd alone:

From the chearlefs dawn of Morning

'Till the Dews of Night returning, Singing thus fhe made her moan: Hope is banish'd,

Joys are vanish'd,

Damon, my belov'd, is gone!

II.

Time, I dare thee to discover Such a Youth, and fuch a Lover; Oh fo true, fo kind was he! Damon was the pride of Nature, Charming in his every Feature; Damon liv'd alone for me; Melting Kiffes,

Murmuring Bliffes:

Whofo liv'd and lov'd as we!

III. Never

III.

Never fhall we curfe the Morning,

Never blefs the Night returning,

Sweet Embraces to reftore:
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, Love supplying
All the Joys he drain'd before:
Death come end me

To befriend me ;

Love and Damon are no more.

ASON G.

I.

YLVIA the Fair, in the Bloom of Fifteen,

Se

Felt an innocent Warmth, as fhe lay on the Green: She had heard of a Pleafure, and fomething fhe guest By the towzing, and tumbling, and touching her Breast a She faw the Men eager, but was at a Lofs,

What they meant by their fighing, and kiffing so close; By their praying and whining,

And clasping and twining,

And panting and wishing,

And fighing and kiffing,

And fighing and kiffing so close.

II.

Ah! fhe cry'd; ah for a languishing Maid,
In a Country of Chriftians, to die without Aid!
Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,
Or a Proteftant Parfon, or Catholick Prieft,
To inftruct a young Virgin, that is at a Lofs,
What they meant by their fighing, and kiffing so close
By their praying and whining,

And clafping and twining,

And

Cupid in Shape of a Swain did appear,

He faw the fad Wound, and in Pity drew near;
Then show'd her his Arrow, and bid her not fear;
For the Pain was no more than a Maiden may bear :
When the Balm was infus'd, fhe was not at a Lofs,
What they meant by their fighing, and kiffing so close;
By their praying and whining,

A

And clafping and twining,

And panting and wifhing,

And fighing and kissing,

And fighing and kiffing so close.

The LADY'S SON G.

I.

Choir of bright Beauties in Spring did appear,

To choofe a May-Lady to govern the Year;

All the Nymphs were in White, and the Shepherds

in Green;

The Garland was giv'n, and Phyllis was Queen &

But Phyllis refus'd it, and fighing did fay,

I'll not wear a Garland while Pan is away.

II.

While Pan, and fair Syrinx, are fled from our Shore,
The Graces are banish'd, and Love is no more:
The foft God of Pleasure, that warm'd our Defires,
Has broken his Bow, and extinguish'd his Fires :
And vows that himself, and his Mother, will mourn,
'Till Pan and fair Syrinx in Triumph return.

III. For