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THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER.

BY ISAAC WATTS, D.D.*

[TO MR. HENRY BENDYSH.]

I.

WHY fhould our joys transform to pain?
Why gentle Hymen's filken chain

A plague of iron prove?

Bendyfh, 'tis ftrange the chain that binds

Millions of hands, fhould leave their minds

At fuch a loose from love.

II.

In vain I fought the wondrous cause,

Rang'd the wide field of nature's laws,
And urg'd the schools in vain ;

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Then deep in thought, within my breast 10 My foul retir'd, and slumber drefs'd

A bright inftructive scene.

Born 1674; dyed 1748.

III.

O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,
On fancy's airy horse I ride,

(Sweet rapture of the mind!) Till on the banks of Ganges flood,

In a tall ancient grove

I ftood

For facred ufe defign'd.

IV.

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Hard by, a venerable priest,

Ris'n with his god, the fun, from rest,

Awoke his morning fong;

Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring stream; The birth of fouls was all his theme,

And half divine his tongue.

ར.

He fang" th' eternal rolling flame,
"That vital mafs, that ftill the fame

"Does all our minds compofe :

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"But shap'd in twice ten thousand frames; "Thence diff'ring fouls of diff'ring names, "And jarring tempers rofe.

VI.

"The mighty power that form'd the mind "One mould for every two defign'd,

"And blefs'd the new-born pair:

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"This be a match for this: (he faid)

"Then down he fent the fouls he made,

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"To feek them bodies here:

VII.

"But parting from their warm abode

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They loft their fellows on the road,
"And never join'd their hands:

"Ah cruel chance, and croffing fates!

"Our Eastern fouls have dropt their mates

"On Europe's barbarous lands.

VIII.

"Happy the youth that finds the bride « Whose birth is to his own ally'd,

« The sweetest joy of life:

"But oh the crowds of wretched fouls "Fetter'd to minds of different moulds,

“And chain'd t'eternal ftrife."

IX.

Thus fang the wond'rous Indian bard;
My foul with vaft attention heard,
While Ganges ceas'd to flow:

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“Sure then (I cry'd) might I but see "That gentle nymph that twinn'd with me, "I may be happy too.

X.

"Some courteous angel, tell me where, 55 “ What distant lands this unknown fair, “ Or distant seas detain ?

"Swift as the wheel of nature rolls “ I'd fly, to meet, and mingle fouls,

“ And wear the joyful chain.”

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PASTORAL.

BY AMBROSE PHILIPS,

GERON, HOBBINOL, LANQUET,

GERON.

How fill the fea behold! how calm the sky!
And how, in sportive chace, the swallows fly!
My goats, fecure from harm, fmall tendance need,
While high, on yonder hanging rock, they feed:
And, here below, the banky fhore along,
Your heifers graze. Now, then, to strive in song
Prepare. As eldest, Hobbinol begin;
And Lanquet's rival-verse, by turns, come in,

HOBBINOL.

Let others ftake what chofen pledge they will, Or kid, or lamb, or mazer wrought with skill: For praise we fing, nor wager ought befide; And, whose the praise, let Geron's lips decide.

LANQUET,

To Geron I my voice, and fkill, commend, A candid umpire, and to both a friend.

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GERON.

Begin then, boys; and vary well your fong: Begin; nor fear, from Geron's fentence, wrong, A boxen hautboy, loud, and fweet of found, All varnish'd, and with brazen ringlets bound, I to the victor give: no mean reward, If to the ruder village-pipes compar'd.

HOBBINOL.

The fnows are melted; and the kindly rain Defcends on every herb, and every grain : Soft balmy breezes breathe along the sky; The bloomy feafon of the year is nigh.

LANQUET.

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The cuckoo calls aloud his wandering love; 25 The turtle's moan is heard in every grove ; The paftures change; the warbling linnets fing: Prepare to welcome in the gaudy spring.

HOBBINOL.

When locufts, in the ferny bushes, cry, When ravens pant, and snakes in caverns lie, 30 Graze then in woods, and quit the shadeless plain, Elfe shall ye prefs the fpungy teat in vain.

LANQUET.

When greens to yellow vary, and ye fee

The ground betrew'd with fruits of every tree,

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