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For this commission'd, I forsook the sky :
Then know the truth of government divine,
What strange events can strike with more surprise,
The Great, Vain Man, who far'd on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the Cup, the graceless custom lost, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
The mean suspicious Wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wand'ring poor; With him I left the Cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul, Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loose from dross, the silver runs below. Long had our pious Friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And measur'd back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow.) The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just. But how had all his fortune felt a wrack, Had that false Servant sped in safety back?
This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal,
Thus Heaven instructs thy mind: This trial o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more.
On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,
The bending Hermit here a pray'r begun, Lord! as in heaven, on earth thy will be done. Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place, And pass'd a life of piety and peace.
A FAIRY TALE.
IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STYLE.
IN Britain's isle and Arthur's days,
His mountain-back mote well be said
Yet spite of all that nature did
He felt the charms of Edith's eyes,
Edwin (if right I read my song)
His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, 'Twas late, 'twas far, the path was lost
That reach'd the neighbour-town;
And drops his limbs adown :
A trembling rocks the ground:"
On all the walls around.
Now sounding tongues assail his ear,
And now the sounds increase :
Come prankling o'er the place. But (trust me, Gentles!) never yet Was dight a masking half so neat,
Or half so rich before;
The country lent the sweet perfumes,
The town its silken store.
Now whilst he gaz'd, a Gallant drest
At this the Swain, whose vent'rous soul
Nor have I cause of dread,' he said, Who view (by no presumption led) • Your revels of the night.
'Twas grief, for scorn of faithful love, 'Which made my steps unweeting rove 'Amid the nightly dew.' 'Tis well, the Gallant cries again, We Faeries never injure men Who dare to tell us true.
Exalt thy love-dejected heart,
The dauncing past, the board was laid,
But now to please the Faerie King,
Some wind and tumble like an ape,
'Till one at last, that Robin hight,
And full against the beam he flung,
From thence," Reverse my charm," he cries, "And let it fairly now suffice "The gambol has been shewn."
But Oberon answers with a smile,
Content thee, Edwin, for a while;
Here ended all the phantom-play;
The whirling wind that bore the crowd
Then screaming all at once they fly,
But soon as dan Apollo rose,
He feels his back the less;
Which made him want success.
The story told, Sir Topuz mov'd
At close of eve he leaves his home,
As there he bides, it so befelt,
But certes sorely sunk with woe
Hangs flagging in the sky.'