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The Grove.

By the Earl of Rofcommon.

Grove! Dark and fecure Retreat

Óf Sacred Silence, Reft's Eternal Seat : How well your cool and unfrequented Shade, Sutes with the chafte Retirements of a Maid. Oh! If kind Heav'n had been fo much my Friend, To make my Fate upon my Choice depend: All my Ambition I would here confine, And only this Elyftum fhould be mine. Fond Men, by Paffion wilfully betray'd, Adore thofe Idols which their Fancy made: Purchafing Riches with our Time and Care, We lofe our Freedom in a gilded Snare; And having all, all to our felves refufe, Opprefs'd with Bleflings which we fear to ufe. Fame is at beft but an inconftant Good, Vain are the boafted Titles of our Blood; We fooneft lofe what we moft highly prize, And with our Youth our fhort-liv'd Beanty dies. In vain our Fields and Flocks increase our Store, If our abundance makes us with for more. How happy is the harmless Country Maid, Who, rich by Nature, fcorns fuperfluous Aid! Whofe modeft Clothes no wanton Eyes invite, But, like her Soul, preferves the native White: Whofe little Store, her well-taught Mind does please, Not pinch'd with Want,nor cloy'd with wanton ease, Who free from Storms, which on the great ones fall, Makes but few Wifhes, and enjoys them all:


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No Care but Love can difcompofe her Breaft,
Love, of all Cares, the sweetest and the best.
Whilft on fweet Grafs her Bleating Charge does lie,
Our happy Lover feeds upon her Eye:
Not one on whom, or Gods, or Men impofe,
But one whom Love has for this Lover chofe.
Under fome favourite Myrtle's fhady Boughs,
They fpeak their Paffions in repeated Vows:
And whilft a Blufh confeffes how the burns,
His faithful Heart makes as fincere Returns.
Thus in the Arms of Love and Peace they lie,
And whilst they live, their Flames can never die.


A Defcription of Goliah's marching out of the Phi liftian Army.

ND from the midft, a monftrous Man stept out,
Aloud they shouted at each Step he took;
We, and the Earth it felf, beneath him hook,
Vaft as the Fill, down which he march'd,h'appear'd,
Amaz'd all Eyes, nor was their Army fear'd.
A young tall Squire (tho' then he feem'd not fo)
Did from the Camp, at firft, before him go;
At firft he did, but fcarce cou'd follow ftrait,
Sweating beneath a Shields unruly weight,
On which was wrought the Gods and Gyants fight,
Rare Work! All fill'd with Terrour and Delight.
Here a vaft Hill, 'gainst thund'ring Baal was thrown,
Trees and Beasts on't fell,burnt with Light'ning down.
One flings a Mountain, and its River too

Torn up with't; that Rains back on him that threw.
Some from the Main to pluck whole lands try;
The Sea boils round with Flames fhot thick from Sky.

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This he believ'd, and on his Shield he bore,
And prais'd their Strength, but thought his omn

(was more. The Valley now this Monster feem'd to fill, And we (methought) look'd up t' him from our Hill. All arm'd in Brafs, the richest dress of War, (A difmal glorious Sight) he fhone afar. The Sun himself started with fudden fright, To fee his Beams return fo difmal bright. Brafs was his Helmet, his Boot brass, all o'er 1 His Breaft a thick Plate of ftrong Brafs he wore, His Spear the Trunk was of a lofty Tree, Which Nature meant fome tall Ship's-Maft fhould be; Th' huge Iron Head fix Hundred Shekels weigh'd, And of whole Bodies, but one wound it made, Able Death's worst command to over-do, Deftroy Life at once, and Carcafs too: Thus arm'd he ftood; all direful and all gay, And round him flung a fcornful Look away. So when a Scythian Tyger gazing round, An Herd of Kine in fome fair Plain has found, Lowing fecure, he fwells with angry Pride, And calls forth all his Spots on ev'ry Side. Then ftops, and hurls his haughty Eyes at all, In choice of fome ftrong Neck on which to fall, Almoft he fcorns, fo weak, fo cheap a prey, And grieves to fee them trembling haft away.



A Paraphrafe on the 148th Pfalm..
By the Earl of Rofcommon.

Azure Vaults! O Chryftal Sky,
The World's tranfparent Canopy;
Break your long Silence, and let Mortals know,
With what Contempt ye look on Things below.

Wing'd Squadrons of the God of War, Who conquer wherefoe'er you are; ༦། Let ecchoing Anthems make his Praises known On Earth, his Foot Stool, as in Heav'n his Throne: Great Eye of all, whofe glorious Ray Rules the bright Empire of the Day;

O praife his Name, without whofe purer Light,
Thou hadst been hid in an Abyss of Night.
Ye Moon and Planets, who difpenfe,
By God's Command, your Influence; -

Refign to him, as your Creator's due,
That Veneration which Men pay to you.

Faireft, as well as firft of Things,
From whom all Joy, all Beauty Springs;

O praife th' Almighty Ruler of the Globe,
Who ufeth thee for his Empyreal Robe :
Praise him ye loud harmonious Spheres,
Whofe facred Stamp all Nature bears;

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Who did all Forms from the rude Chaos draw,
And whofe Command is th' univerfal Law.

Ye watry Mountains of the Sky,
And you fo far above our Eye


Vaft ever-moving Orbs, exalt his Name,
Who gave its Being to your glorious Frame.
Ye Dragons whofe contagious Breath,
Peoples the dark Retreats of Death,

Change your fierce Hiffing into joyful Song,
And praise your Maker with your forked Tongue;
Praise him ye Monfters of the deep,
That in the Sea's vaft Bofoms fleep;

At whofe Command the foaming Billows roar,
Yet know their Limits. Tremble and adore,
Ye Mifts and Vapours, Hail and Snow,
And you who through the Concave blow.

Swift Exécutors of his holy Word,
Whirlwinds and Tempefts,praife the Almighty Lord,
Mountains, who to your Maker's View,
Seem less than Mole-Hills do to you;

Remember how, when firft Jehovahespoke,
All Heaven was Fire, and Sinai hid in Smoke.
Praife him fweet Offspring of the Ground,
With heavenly Nectar yearly crown'd.

And ye tall Cedars, celebrate his Praife,
That in his Temple facred Altars raise.
Idle Musicians of the Spring,
Whofe only Care's to love and fing,

Fly thro' the World, and let your Trembling Throat, Praife your Creator with the fweeteft Note.

Praise him each Salvage furious Beaft,
That on his Stores do daily Feaft.


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