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Small is the praise of beauty, when it flies Fair honour's laws, at beft but lovely vice. Charms it like Venus with celeftial air? Ev'n Venus is but fcandalously fair; But when strict honour with fair features joins, Like heat and light, at once it warms and thines.

* Then let her fate your kind attention raife, Whofe perfect charms were but her fecond praife: Beauty and virtue your protection claim; Give tears to beauty, give to virtue fame.

TO MR. A. POPE,

WHO CORRECTED MY VERSES.

IF e'er my humble Mufe melodious fings,

'Tis when you animate and tune her strings;
If e'er the mounts, 'tis when you prune her wings.
You, like the fun, your glorious beams difplay,{
Deal to the darkest orb a friendly ray,
And cloath it with the luftre of the day.

Mean was the piece, unelegantly wrought,
The colours faint, irregular the draught;
But your commanding touch, your nicer art,
Rais'd every stroke, and brighten'd every part.
So, when Luke drew the rudiments of man,
An angel finish'd what the faint began ;
His wondrous pencil, dipt in heavenly dyes,

}

But when Apollo in her breaft abode,
She heav'd, the fwell'd, fhe felt the rushing God:
Then accents more than mortal from her broke ;
And when the God infpir'd, the priestess spoke.

MONSIEUR MAYNARD IMITATED.

To the Right Honourable the Lord CORNWALLIS.

WHILE paft its

its noon the lamp of life declines,

And age my vital flame invades ;

Faint, and more faint, as it defcends, it fhines,
And haftes, alas! to fet in fhades.

Then fome kind power fhall guide my ghost to glades,

Where, feated by Elyfian springs, Fam'd Addison attun'd to patriot shades

His lyre, and Albion's glory fings.

There round, majestic shades, and heroes' forms,
Will throng, to learn what pilot guides,
Watchful, Britannia's helm through factious ftorms,
And curbs the murmuring rebel tides.

I tell how Townshend treads the glorious path
That leads the great to deathless fame,
And dwell at large on fpotlefs English faith,
While Walpole the favourite theme.

Gave beauty to the face, and lightning to the How, nobly rifing in their country's cause,

eyes.

Confus'd it lay, a rough unpolish'd mass; You gave the royal ftamp, and made it pass : Hence ev'n deformity a beauty grew;

She pleas'd, the charm'd, but pleas'd and charm'd

by you;

Though like Prometheus I the image frame,
You give the life, and bring the heavenly flame.

Thus when the Nile diffus'd his watery train
In ftreams of plenty o'er the fruitful plain ;
Unfhapen forms, the refufe of the flood,
Ifued imperfect from the teeming mud;
But the great fource and parent of the day.
Fashion'd the creature, and inform'd the clay.t
Weak of herself, my Mufe forbears her flight,
Views her own lownefs, and Parnaffus' height;
But when you you aid her song, and deign to nod,
She fpreads a bolder wing, and feels the prefent God.
So the Cumaan prophetefs was dumb,
Blind to the knowledge of events to come;

VARIATION.

Then let her fate your juft attention raise, Whole perfect graces were but fecond praije.

ADDITION.
To nobler themes thy Muse triumphant foars,
Mounts through the tracts of air, and heaven ex-
plores.

Say, has fome feraph tun'd thy facred lyre,
Or deign'd to touch thy hallow'd lips with fire?
For fure fuch founds exalt th' immortal firing,
As heaven approves, and raptur'd angels fing

The stedfait arbiters of right

Exalt the juft and good, to guard her laws,

And call forth merit into light.

A loud applaufe around the echoing coaft
Of all the pleas'd Elyfium flies.-

But, friend, what place had you, replies fome ghoft,

When merit was the way to rife?

What deanery, or prebend, thine, declare

Good heavens! unable to reply, How like a stupid idiot I should stare An answer, good my lord, fupply.

Ah! how I liften, while the mortal lay Lifts me from earth above the folar way! Ah! how I look with fcorn on pompous crowns, And pity monarchs on their fplendid thrones, While, theu my guide, I trace all nature's laws, By juft gradations, to the fovereign caufe! Pleas'd I furvey how varying schemes unite, Worlds with the atoms, angels with the mite, And end in God, high thron'd above all height, Who fees, as Lord of all, with equal eye, Now a proud tyrant perish, then a fy. Methinks I view the patriarch's ladder rife, Its bafe on earth, its fummit in the fries: Each wondrous fep by glorious angels trod, And heaven unfolding to the throne of God, Be this thy praife! I haunt the lovely bower, Sport by the Spring, or paint the blooming flower. Nor dares the Mufe attempt au arduous height,

ON A MISCHIEVOUS WOMAN., You fit at home; enjoy your

FROM peace, and focial joy, Medufa flies,

And loves to hear the ftorm of anger rife; Thus hags and witches hate the fmiles of day, Sport in loud thunder, and in tempests play.

THE COQUETTE.

SILLIA, with uncontested sway,

Like Rome's fam'd tyrant reigns;

Beholds adoring crowds obey,

And heroes proud to wear her chains: Yet ftoops, like him, to every prize, Bufy to murder beaux and flies.

She aims at every trifling heart,

Attends each flatterer's vows,
And, like a picture drawn with art,
A look on all that gaze bestows.
O may the power who lovers rules,
Grant rather fcorn, than hope with fools
Mistaken nymph! the crowds that gaze
Adore thee into shame;
Unguarded beauty in difgrace,

And coxcombs, when they praife, defame.
O! fly fuch brutes in human shapes,
Nor, like th' Ægyptians, worship apes.

coufin,

While hearts are offer'd by the dozen :

Oh born above your fex to rife,
With youth, wealth, beauty, titles-wife!
O! Lady bright, did ne'er you mark yet,
In country fair, or country market,

A beau, whofe eloquence might charm ye,
Enlisting foldiers for the army?

He flatters every well-built youth,
And tells him every thing but truth.
He cries, Good friend, I'm glad I hap'd in
Your company, you'll make a captain!
He lifts- but finds thefe gaudy shows
Soon chang'd to furly looks, and blows:

'Tis now, March, rafcal! what, d'ye grumble?
Thwack goes the cane! I'll make you humble.
Such weddings are: and I refemble 'em,
Almoft in all points to this emblem.

While courtship lafts, 'tis, Dear! 'tis, Madam!
The sweetest creature fure fince Adam!
Had I the years of a Methusalem,

How in my charmer's praise I'd ufe all 'em!
Oh! take me to thy arms, my beauty!

I doat, adore the very fhoe-tye!

They wed-but, fancy grown lefs warming,
Next morn, he thinks the bride lefs charming:
He fays, nay fwears, My wife grows old in
One fingle month; then falls tofcolding,
What, madam, gadding every day!
Up to your room! there ftitch, or pray!

Such proves the marriage itate! but for all These truths, you'll wed, and fcorn the moral.

THE WIDOW AND VIRGIN SISTERS.

Being a Letter to the WIDow in LONDON. WHILE Delia fhines at Hurlothrumbo,

And darts her fprightly eye at fome beau ;
Then, clofe behind her fan retiring,
Sees through the flicks whole crowds admiring:
You fip your melancholy co-fly
And at the name of man, cry, O phy!
Or, when the noify rapper thunders,
Say coldly-Sure the fellow blunders!
Unfeen though peer on peer approaches:
James, I'm abroad!—but learn the coaches.

As fome young pleader, when his purfe is
Unfill'd through want of controverfies,
Attends, untill the chinks are fill'd all,
Th' affizes, Weltmifter, and Guildhall;
While graves lawyers keep their house, and
Collect the guineas by the thousand :
Or as fome tradefmen, through show-glaffes,
Expofe their wares to each that paffes;
Toys of no use! high-priz'd commodities
Bought to no end! ettates in oddities!
Others, with like advantage, drive at
Their gain, from ftore-houfes in private:
Thus Delia fhines in places general,
Is never mifling where the men are all ;
Goes ev'n to church with godly airs,
To meet good company at prayers;
Where the devoutly plays her fan,
Looks up to heaven, but thinks on man.

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AS when the King of Peace, and Lord of Love,
Sends down fome brighter angel from above,
Pleas'd with the beauties of the heavenly Guck,
Awhile we view him in full glory dreit;
But he, impatient from his heaven to itay,
Soon difappears, and wings his airy way;
So didst thou vanish, eager to appear,
And shine triumphant in thy native fphere.

Yet had'st thou all that virtue can bestow,
All, the good practise, and the learned know;
Such holy rapture, as not warms, but fires,
While the foul feems retiring, or retires;
Such transports as thofe faints in vision share,
Who know not whether they are rapt through air,
Or bring down heaven to meet them in a prayer.
Oh early loft! yet stedfaft to furvey
Envy, difeafe, and death, without difmay;
Serene, the fting of pain thy thoughts beguile,
And make afflictions, objects of a smile.

*

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So the fam'd Patriarch, on his couch of stone,
Enjoy'd bright vibons tiom th' eternal throne.
This wean'd from earth, where pleasure scarce
Cut pleats,

Thy wees but can'd thee to heaven and peace :
As angry winds, when loud the tempelt roars,
More ', fpees the veffel to the thores.

Ch! may cheie lays a ating lustre ihed
O'er thy da.k urn, like limps that grace the

dead!

Strong were thy thoughts, yet reafon bore the
fway i

Humble, yet learn'd; though innocent, yet gay:
So pure of heart, that thou might & safely fhow
Thy inmot bolom o hy bates tet
Carclefs of wealth, thy blits a calm retreat,
Far from the infules of the foonful great;
Thence looking with diff on proudest things,
Thou deemed it mean he pageantry of kings;
Who build their pride o troping of a throne,
A painted ribbund, or a glittering stone,
Uielefsly bright! I was thine the foul to raise
To nobler objects, fuch as angels praite!
To live, to mortals' empty fame,
And pity human joy, and human woe!
To view ev'n fple did vice with generous hate;
In life unblemih'd, and in death fedare!
Then confcience, fhining with a lenient ray,
Dawn'd o'er thy foul, and promis'd endless day.
So from the fetting orb of Phoebus fly
Beams of calm light, and glitter the sky.
Where now, oh! where fhall I true friendship

find

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foe;

Among the treacherous race of base mankind?
Whom, whom confult in all th' uncertain ways
Of various life, fincere to blame, or praife !
O! friend! O! falling in thy ftrength of years,
Warm from the melting foul receive thefe tears i
O! woods ! wilds! 01 every bowery shade!
So often vocal by his music made,

Now other founds-far other founds return,
And o'er his hearfe with all your echoes mourn!-
Yet dare we grieve that foon the paths he trod
To heaven, and left vain man for Saints and God?
Thus in the theatre the scenes unfold

A thousand wonders glorious to behold;
And here, or there, as the machine extends,
A hero rifes, or a God defcends:
But foon the momentary pleasure flies,
Swift vanishes the God, or hero dies.

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Where were ye, Mufes, by what fountain fide,
What river Iporting, when your favourite dy'd?
He knew by verfe to chain the headlong floods,
Silence loud winds, or charm attentive woods;
Nor deign'd but to high themes to tune the
ftring,

To fuch as heaven might hear, and angels fing;
Unlike those bards, who, uninform'd to play,
Grate on their jarring pipes a flashy lay:
Each line difplay'd united ftrength and ease,
Form'd like his manners to inftruct and please.
So herbs of balmy excellence produce

A blooming flower and falutary juice:

And while each plant a smiling grace reveals,
Ufefully gay at once it charms, and heals.

Tranicend ev'n after death, ye great, show;
Lend pomp to alhes, and be vain in woe;
Hire fubstitutes to moura with formal cries,
And bribe unwilling drops from venal eyes;
While here fincerity of ghef appears,
Silence that peaks, and eloquence in tears!
While, tir's of life, we but content to live
To fhow world how really we grieve!
As fome fond lie, whole only for lies dead,

All loft to comfort makes the duft his bed,
Hangs o'er his urn, with frantic grief deplores,
And bathes his clay-cold cheek with copious
showers ;

Such heart-felt pangs on thy fad bier attend;
Companion! brother! all in one-my friend!
U..iefs the foul a wound eternal bears,

Sighis are but air; but common water, tears:
The proud, relentlefs, wep in itate, and thow
Not forrow, but magnificence of woe.

Thus in the fountain, from the fculptor's hands,
With imitated life, an im ge ftands;
From rocky entrails, through his tony eyes,
The mimic tears in itre ims inceffant rife:
Unconscious! while aloft the waters flow,
The gazer's wonder, and a public thow.

Ye hallow'd domes, his frequent vifits tell;
Thou court, where God himfelf delights to dwell;
Thou myftic table, and thou holy feast,
How oft his foul with heavenly manna fed!
How often have ye feen the facred guest!
His faith enliven'd, while his fin lay dead!
While liftening angels heard fuch raptures rife,
As, when they hymath' Almighty, charm the fkies!
But where, now where, without the body's aid,
New to the heavens, fubfits thy gentle thade?
Glides it beyond our grofs imperfect sky,
Pleas'd high o'er ftars, from world to world, to fly!
And fearlefs marks the comet's dreadful blaze,
While monarchs quake, and trembling nations gaze?
Or holds deep converfe with the mighty dead,
Champions of virtue, who for virtue bled?
Or joins in concert with angelic choirs,
Where hymning feraphs found their golden lyres,
Where raptur'd faints unfading crowns inwreath,
Triumphant o'er the world, o'er in and death?
O! may the thought his friend's devotion raife!
O! may he imitate, as well as praife!
Awake, my heavy foul! and upward fly,
Speak to the faint, and meet him in the sky,
And afk the certain way to rife as high.

I

To THOMAS MARRIOT, Esq.

}

Prefix your name to the following poem, as a monument of the long and fincere friendship I have borne you: I am fenfible you are too good a judge

℗ Mr. Fenton intended to write upon meral fubjects. of poetry to approve it; however, it will be a

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OH! for Elijah's car, to wing my way

O'er the dark gulph of death to endless day! A thousand ways, alas! frail mortals lead To her dire den, and dreadful all to tread! See! in the horrors of yon houfe of woes, Troops of all maladies the fiend inclofe! High on a trophy rais'd of human bones, Swords, fpears, and arrows, and fepulchral ftones, In horrid ftate the reigns! attendant ills Befiege her throne, and when the frowns, the kills: Through the thick gloom the torch red-gleaming

burns

O'er shrouds, and fable pails, and mouldering urns; While flowing ftoles, black plumes, and fcutcheons fpread

An idle pump around the filent dead:
Unaw'd by power, in common heap the flings
The fcrips of beggars, and the crowns of kings:
Here gales of fighs, inftead of breezes, blow,
And streams of tears for ever murmuring flow:
The mournful yew with folemn horror waves
His baleful branches, faddening even the graves:
Around all birds obfcene loud-fcreaming fly,
Clang their black wings, and fhriek along the fky:
'The ground perverfe, tho' bare and barien, breeds
All poifons, fees to life, and noxious weeds;
But, lafted frequent by th' unwholesome sky,
Dead fall the birds, the very poisons die.

Full in the entrance of the dreadful doors,
Old-age, half vanish'd to a ghoft, deplores:
Propp'd on his crutch, he drags with many a groan
The load of life, yet dreads to hy it down.

There, downward driving an unnumber'd band, Intemperance and Difcafe walk hand in hand: Thefe, Torment, whirling with remorfelefs fway A fcourge of iron, lashes on the way.

There frantic Anger, prone to wild extremes, Crafps an enfar guin'd fword, and heaven blafphemes. There heart fick Agony distorted stands, Writhes his convulfive limbs, and wrings his bands. There Sorrow droops his ever-penfive head, And Care till tofles on his iron bed: Or, mufing, faftens on the ground his eye, With folded arms; with every breath a figh. Hydrops unwieldy wallows in a floud; And Murther rages, red with human blood, With Fever, Fanine, and afflictive Pain, Plague, Peftilence, and War, a difmal rain! Theft, and a thousand more, the fiend furround, Shrieks pierce the air, and grows to groans refound.

O! heavens ! is this the passage to the skies
Oh! for Elijah's car to wing my way
That man must tread, when man your favourite dies?
O'er the dark gulph of death to endless day!
Confounded at the fight, my fpirits fled,
My eves rain'd tears, my very heart was dead!
I wail'd the lot of man, that all would fhun,
And all must bear that breathe beneath the fun.
When lo! an heavenly form, divinely fair,
Shoots from the starry vault through fields of air;
And, fwifter than on wings of lightning driven,
At once feems here and there, in earth and heaven:
A dazzling brightness in refulgent ftreams
Flows from his locks inwreath'd with funny beams:
His rofeate checks the bloom of heaven difplay,
And from his eyes dart glories, more than day:
A robe, of light condens'd, around him thone,
And his loins glitter'd with a ftarry zone:
And while the listening winds lay huth'd to hear.
Thus fpoke the vifion, amiably severe !

Vain man! wouldst thou escape the common lot,

To live, to fuffer, die, and be forgot?
Look back on ancient times, primæval years,
All, all are paft! a mighty void appears!
Heroes, and kings, thofe gods of earth, whofe fame
Aw'd half the nations, now are but a name!

The

great in arts or arms, the wife, the just,
Mix with the meaneft in congenial duft!
Ev'n Saints and Prophets the fame paths have trod,
Ambaffadors of heaven, and friends of God!
And thou, wouldst thou the general fentence fly?
Mofes is dead! thy Saviour deign'd to die!
Mortal, in all thy acts regard thy end;
Live well, the time thou liv'it, and death's thy
friend:

Then curb each rebel thought against the sky,
And die refign'd, O! Man ordain'd to die!

He added not, but fpread his wings in flight,
And vanish'd inftant in a blaze of light.

Abafh'd, afham'd, I cry, Eternal Power, I yield! I wait refign'd th' appointed hour! Man, foolish man, no more thy foul deceive ! To die, is but the fureft way to live: When age we afk, we ask it in our wrong, And pray our time of fuffering may be long; The naufeous draught, and dregs of life to drain,

And feel infirmity, and length of pain!

What art thou, life, that we should court thy stay?

A breath, one fingle gasp must away!

A fhort-liv'd flower, that with the day muft fade!

A fleeting vapour, and an empty fhade!
A ftream, that filently but fwiftly glides
To meet eternity's immeafur'd tides !
A being, left alike by pain or joy!
A fy can kill it, or a worm destroy!
Impair'd by labour, and by eafe undone,
Commenc'd in tears, and ended in a groan!
Ev'n while I write, the tranfient Now is past,
And

death more near, this fentence than the laft! As fome weak ifthmus feas from feas divides, Beat by rude waves, and fapp'd by rushing tides

Torn from its bafe, no more their fury bears,
At once they clofe, at once it difappears:
Such, fuch is life! the mark of mifery plac'd
Between two worlds, the future and the past;
To time, to sickness, and to death, a prey,
It finks, the frail poffeffion of a day!

As fome fond boy, in fport, along the shore
Builds from the fands a fabric of an hour;
Proud of his fpacious walls, and stately rooms,
He ftyles the mimic cells imperial domes;
The little monarch fwells with fancy'd fway,
Till fome wind rifing puffs the dome away:
So the poor reptile, man! an heir of woe,
The lord of earth and ocean, fwells in fhow;
He plants, he builds, aloft the walls arife!
The noble plan he finishes, and-dies.
Swept from the earth, he shares the common fate;
His fole diftinction now, to rot in ftate!
Thus bufy to no end till out of breath,
Tir'd we lie down, and clofe up all in death.
Then bleft the man whom gracious heaven has

led

Through life's blind mazes to th' immortal dead!
Who, fafely landed on the blissful shore,
Nor human folly feels nor frailty more!
O! Death, thou cure of all our idle ftrife!
End of the gay, or ferious farce of life!
Wish of the just, and refuge of th oppreft!
Where poverty, aud where ev'n kings find reft!
Sate from the frowns of power! calm, thoughtful
hate 1

And the rude infults of the fcornful great!
The grave is facred! wrath and malice dread
To violate its peace, and wrong the dead:
But, life, thy name is woe! to death we fly..
To grow immortal!-into life we die !
Then wifely heaven in filence has confin'd
The happier dead, left none fhould stay behind.
What though the path be dark that must be trod,
Though man be blotted from the works of God,
Though the four winds his fcatter'd atoms bear
To earth's extremes through all th' expanfe of air;
Yet, buriting glorious from the filent clay,
He mounts triumphant to eternal day.

So, when the fun rolls down th' ethereal plain,
Extinct his fplendors in the whelming main,
A tranfient night earth, air, and heaven invades,
Eclips'd in horrors of furrounding thades;
But foon, emerging with a fresher ray,
He starts exultant, and renews the day.

COURAGE IN LOVE

My eyes with floods of tears o'erflow,

My bofom heaves with conftant woe; Thofe eyes, which thy unkindness fwells; That bofom, where thy image dwells !

How could I hope fo weak a flame Could ever warm that matchlefs d'ame, When none Elytium muft behold, Without a radiant bough of gold?

'Tis hers, in fpheres to fhine; At distance to admire, is mine: Doom'd, like th' enamour'd

youth, to groan

For a new goddefs form'd of ftone.
While thus I fpoke, Love's gentle power
Defcended from th' ethereal bower;
A quiver at his fnoulder hung,
A fhaft he grafp'd, and bow unftrung,
All nature own'd the genial God,
And the spring flourish'd where he trod:
My heart, no ftranger to the gueft,
Flutter'd, and labour'd in my breast;
When, with a smile that kindles joy
Ev'n in the Gods, began the boy:

How vain these tears! is man decreed,
By being abject, to fucceed?
Hop'it thou by meagre looks to move?
Are women frighten'd into love?
He most prevails, who nobly dares;
In love an hero, as in wars:
Ev'n Venus may be known to yield, A
But 'tis when Mars difputes the field:
Sent from a daring hand my dart
Strikes deep into the fair-one's heart:
To winds and waves thy cares bequeath,
A figh is but a waste of breath.
What though gay youth, and every grace
That beauty boafts, adorn her face;
Yet Goddeffes have deign'd to wed,
And take a mortal to their bed:
And heaven, when gifts of incense rise,
Accepts it, though it cloud their skies.

Mark! how this marygold conceals
Her beauty, and her bofom veils;
How from the dull embrace fhe flies
Of Phoebus, when his beams arife:
But when his glory he displays,
And darts around his fiercer rays.
Her charms fhe opens, and receives
The vigorous God into her leaves.

I

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WHO was once the glory of the plain,
The fairest virgin of the virgin train,

Am now (by thee, O! faithlefs man, betray'd!)
A fall'n, a loft, a miferable maid.
Ye winds, that witness to my deep defpair,
Receive my fighs, and waft them thro' the air,
And gently breathe them to my Damon's ear!
Curft, ever curit be that trembling day,
When trembling, fighing, at my feet he lay,
I trembled, figh'd, and look'd my heart away!
Why was he form'd, ye powers, his fex'sp ride,
Too falfe to love, too fair to be deny'd?
Ye heedlefs virgins, gaze not on his eyes
Lovely they are, but the that gazes dies!

* Polydorus, who pined to death for the love of a beautiful flatue.

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