In circling eddies whirl'd, it roars aloud,
Drives wave on wave, and dashes cloud on cloud;;
Where'er it moves, it lays whole forests low,
And at the blaft, eternal mountains bow;
While, tearing up the fands, in drifts they rife,
And half the deferts mount the burthen'd skies.
He from aërial treasures downward pours
Sheets of unfully'd fnow in lucid fhowers,
Flake after flake, through air thick-wavering flies,
Till one vast shining waste all nature lies ;
Then the proud hills a virgin whiteness shed,
A dazzling brightnefs glitters from the mead :
The hoary trees reflect a filver fhow,
groves beneath the lovely burden bow.
He from loose vapours with an icy chain
Binds the round hail, and moulds the harden'd rain :
The ftony tempeft with a rushing found,
Beats the firm glebe, refulting from the ground;
Swiftly it falls, and as it falls invades
The rifing herb, or breaks the spreading blades :
While infant flowers that rais'd their bloomy heads,.
Crush'd by its fury, fink into their beds.
When ftormy Winter from the frozen North
Borne on his icy chariot iffues forth;
The blafted groves their verdant pride refign,
And billows harden'd into crystal shine :
Sharp blows the rigour of the piercing winds,
And the proud floods as with a breast-plate binds :.
Ev'n the proud feas forget in tides to roll
Beneath the freezings of the Northern pole;
There waves on waves in folid mountains rife,
And Alps of ice invade the wondering skies;
While gulphs below, and flippery vallies lie,
And with a dreadful brightness pain the eye;
But if warm winds a warmer air restore,
And fofter breezes bring a genial fhower,
The genial fhower revives the chearful plain,
And the huge hills flow down into the main.
When the feas rage, and loud the ocean roars,
When foaming billows lash the founding fhores;
If he in thunder bid the waves fubfide,
The waves obedient fink upon the tide,
A fudden peace controls the limpid deep,
And the still waters in soft silence sleep.
Then heaven lets down a golden-ftreaming ray,
And all the broad expansion flames with day:
In the clear glafs the mariners defcry
A fun inverted, and a downward sky.
They who adventurous plow the watery way, The dreadful wonders of the deep furvey; Familiar with the storms their fails unbind, Tempt the rough blast, and bound before the wind: Now high they mount, now fhoot into a vale, Now fmooth their courfe, and fcud before the gale ;. There rolling monsters, arm'd in fcaly pride, Flounce in the billows, and dafh round the tide ;
There huge Leviathan unwieldy moves,
And through the waves, a living island, roves;
In dreadful paftime terribly he sports,
And the vaft ocean fcarce his weight fupports;
Where'er he turns the hoary deeps divide,
He breathes a tempeft, and he spouts a tide.
Thus, Lord, the wonders of earth, fea, and air,
Thy boundless wifdom and thy power declare;
Thou high in glory, and in might ferene,
See'ft and mov'st all, thyself unmov'd, unseen :
Should men and angels join in fongs to raise
A grateful tribute equal to thy praise,
Yet far thy glory would their praife outshine,
Though men and angels in the song fhould join;
For though this earth with skill divine is wrought,
Above the guess of man, or angel's thought,
Yet in the spacious regions of the skies
New scenes unfold, and worlds on worlds arife,
There other orbs, round other funs advance,
Float on the air, and run their myftic dance;
And yet the power of thy Almighty hand,
Can build another world from every fand :
And though vain man arraign thy high decree,
Till this just what is, that ought to be.
The Conclufion of an Epilogue to Mr. Southern's last Play, call'd Money the Mistress.
HERE was a time, when in his younger years,
Our author's fcenes commanded files or tears; And though beneath the weight of days he bends, Yet, like the fun, he fhines as he defcends: Then with applause, in honour to his age, Difmifs your veteran foldier * off the stage; Crown his last exit with distinguish'd praise, And kindly hide his † baldness with the bays.
The PARTING, a SONG, fet by Dr. Tudway, Profeffor of Mufic in Cambridge..
HEN from the plains Belinda fled,
The fad Amintor figh'd,
And thus while ftreams of tears he shed,
The mournful fhepherd cry'd.
"Move flow, ye hours! thou time delay!
“Prolong the bright Belinda's stay :
"But you, like her, my prayer deny,
"And cruelly away ye fly..
+ Alluding to a vote of the Roman fenate, by which they decreed Cæfar a crown of laurel, to cover his baldness.
"Yet though the flies, the leaves behind
"Her lovely image in my mind;
"O! fair Belinda, with me ftay,
"Or take thy image too away!
See! how the fields are gay around,
"How painted flowers adorn the ground!
As if the fields, as well as I,
"Were proud to please my fair-one's eye.
"But now, ye fields, no more be gay,
"No inore, ye flowers, your charms difplay!
« 'Tis defert all, now you are fled,
"And paradise is where you tread.
Unmov'd the virgin flies his cares,
To shine at court and play,
To lonely fhades the youth repairs,
To weep his life away.
On a FLOWER which Belinda gave me from her Bofom.
'lovely offspring of the May,
Whence flow thy balmy odours, fay!
Such odours-not the orient boasts!
Though Paradise adorn'd the coafts!
O! sweeter than each flower that blooms,
This fragrance from thy bofom comes !
Thence, thence fuch sweets are spread abroad,
As might be incenfe for a God!
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