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Thy People led by thy Miraculous Hand
To th' Milk, and Honey of a Blessed Land;
Call'd hence too soon by the Almighty Voice;
Saw'st but the Borders of the promis'd Joys:
That God-like Joflmn fills thy Royal Sear,
Who thy unfinifli'd Wonders lhall complear.
Translated Saint, now thy full Honours seize,
Blest with thy own eternal Handmaid, Pence,
Around thy Head immortal Honours play,
Brighter than thy own Restoration-Day.
Like thy own Mercy soft be thy Repose;
Whilst on thy Brow that Perfum'd Fragrance flows.
Sweeter than th' Odours even of that Rich fame
That (hall Embalm thy Everlasting Name.
M O D E.
By Mr. P«ro R
WBile Blooming Youth, and gay Delight,
Sit on thy rosey Cheeks confest,
Thou hast, my Dear, undoubted Right
To triumph o'er this destin'd Breast.
My Reason bends to what thy Eyes ordain;
for I was born to Love, and thou to Reign.
But wou'd you meanly thus rely
On Power, you know I must Obey;
Exert a Legal Tyranny j
And do an ill, because you may?
Still must I Thee, as Atheists Heav'n adore j
Not fee thy Mercy, and but dtead thy Power.'
Take heed, my Dear, Youth flies apace,
i As well as Cupid, Time is blind:
Soon must those Glories of thy Face,
The Fare of vulgar Beauty sind:
The thousand Loves, that arm thy porent Eye,
Must drop their Quivers, flag their Wings, and die,
"Then wilt thou sigh, when in each Frown
A hareful Wrinkle more appears;
And putring peevish Humours on
Seems but the fad Effect of Years:
Kindness it self too weak a Charm will prove,
To raise the feeble Fires of aged Love.
Forc'd Compliments, and Formal Bows
Will show Thee just above Neglect:
The Heat, with which thy, Lover glows,
Will sertle into cold Respect:
A talking dull Plattmick^l shall turn;
Learn to be civil, when 1 cease to burn.
Then shun the 111, and know, my Deat,
Kindness and Constancy will prove
The only Pillars, sit to bear
So vast a Weight, as that of Love,
if thou canst with to make my Flames endure,
Thine must be very sierce, and very pure.
Haste, Celia, haste, while Youth invires,
Obey kind Cupid's present Voice;
Fill ev'ry Sense with, soft Delights,
And give thy Soul a Loose to joys:
Let Millions of repeared Blisses prove,
That thou all Kindness art, and I all Love.
VIII. • .
Be mine, and only mine; take care,
Thy Looks, thylhoughtsithy Drcams to guide
To me alone; nor come so fat,
AS liking any Youth belide;
What Men e'er court thee, fly 'em, and believe,
They're Serpents all, and Thou the rempred Evr.
So shain court thy dearest Truth,
When Beauty ceases to engage;
So thinking on thy charming Youth,
I'll love it o'er again in Age:
So Time it self our Raptures shall improve,-
While still we wake to Joy, and live to Love.
r A T dead of Night, when rapt in sleep,
t\. The peaceful Cortage lay,
Pastora left her folded Sheep,
Her Garland, Crook, and useless Scrip;
Love led the Nymph astray.
"Loose and undrest she takes her Flight
To a near Myrrle Shade;
The conscious Moon gave all her Light,
To bless her ravish'd Lover's sight,
And guide the loving Maid.
His eager Arms the Nymph embrace,
And, to asswage his Fain,
His restless Passion he obeys:
At such an hout, in such a Place,
What Lover could contain 5
In vain she call'd the conscious Moon,
The Moon no succour gave;
The cruel Stars unmov'd look'd on,
And seem'd to smile at what was done,
Nor would her Honour save.
Vanquish'd at last, by pow'rful Love,
The Nymph expiring lay,
No more (he sigh'd, no more (he strove,
Since no kind Stars were found above,
She bluih'd and dy'd away.
Yet blest the Grove, her conscious Flight,
And Youth that did betray}
And panting, dying with delight,
She blest the kind transporting Night,
And curst approaching Day.
The Poet's Complaint of his Muse. ODE.
By Mr. Tho. Ot Way.
TO a high Hill, where never yet stood Tree,
Where only Heath, coarse Fern, and Furzes
Where (nipt by piercing Air) [grow,
The Flocks in tattet'd Fleeces hardly'graze 5
Led by uncouth Thoughts and Care,
Which did too much his pensive mind amaze
A wandring Bard, whose Muse was crazy grown, j
Cloy'd with the nauseous follies of the buzzing (
Came, look'd about him, sigh'd, and laid him J
'Twas far from any Path, but where the Earth
Was bare, and naked all as at her Birth,
When by the Word it first was made,
E'er God had said,
Let Grass and Herbs and every green thing grow,
With fruitful Trees after their kind; and it was so.
The whistling Winds blew fiercely round his Head,
Cold was his Lodging, hard his Bed;
Aloft his Eyes on the wide Heav'ns he cast, Where we are told" Peace only's found at last: And as he did its hopeless distance fee, Sigh'd deep, and cry'd, How far is Peace from me! II. Nor ended there his Moan: The distance of his future Joy Had been enough to give him Pain alone;
But who can undergo [Woe?
Despair of ease to come, with weight of present Down his afflicted Face o
The trickling Tears had ftieam'd so fast a pace,? As left a path worn by their briny race. J
Swoln was his Breast with Sighs, his wellProportion'd Limbs as useless fell, While the poor Trunk (unable to sustain It self) lay racks, and shaking with its Pain. I heard his Groans, as X was walking by, And (urg'd by pity) went aside, to fee ■ . What the fad cause could be Had press'd his State so low, and rais'd his Plaints so On me he fixt his Eyes. I crav'd, [high. Why so foilornJ He vainly rav'd. Peace to his mind I did commend. But, oh '. my words were haidly at an end, When I peiceiv'd it was my Friend, My much-lov'd Friend: so down I fate, Andbegg'd that I might (hate his Fate: I laid my Cheek to his, when with a Gale Of Sighs he eas'd his Breast, and thus began his Tale. IIL I am a Wretch of honest Race; My Patents not obscure, nor high in Titles were; They left me Heir to no Disgrace. My Father was (a thing now rare) Loyal and brave; my Mother chast and fair. Their pledge of Marriage-vows was only I; Alone I liv'd their much-lov'd fondled Boy: