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To thee, O God, to thee again I come,
The finner's refuge, and the wretch's home.
Since fuch thy will, farewel my blasted fame!
Let foul detraction feize my injur'd name:
No pang, no fear, no fond concern, I'll know;
Nay, fmile in death, tho' Henry gives the blow.

And now, refign'd, my bofom lighter grows,
And hope, foft-beaming, brightens all my woes.
Release me, earth; ye mortal bonds, untie:
Why loiters Henry when I pant to die?

For angels call, heav'n opens at the found,
And glories blaze, and mercy streams around.
Adieu*, ye fanes, whofe purer flames anew
Rose with my rife, and as I flourish'd grew:
Well may ye now my weak protection spare;
The pow'r that fix'd you shall preserve you there.
Small was my part, yet all I could employ,

And Heav'n repays it with eternal joy.

Thus rapt, O king, thus lab'ring to be free,
My gentleft paffport ftill depends on thee.
My hov'ring foul, tho' rais'd to Heav'n by pray'r,
Still bends to earth, and finds one forrow there;
Breathes for another's life it's lateft

groanRefign'd and happy, might I part alone!

Why frowns my lord? Ere yet the ftroke's decreed,
O hear a fifter for a brother + plead.

By Heav'n, he's wrong'd!-Alas! why that to you?
You know he's wrong'd-you know, and yet pursue.
Unhappy youth! what anguish he endures!

Was it for this he prefs'd me to be

yours,

When ling'ring, wav'ring, on the brink I ftood,

And ey'd obliquely the too tempting flood?

* Her marriage with King Henry was a means of introducing the proteftant religion, of which she was a great patronels.

George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford,

Was

Was it for this his lavish tongue display'd
A monarch's graces to a love-fick maid ?
With ftudied art confenting nature fir'd,
And forc'd my will to what it most defir'd?
Did he, enchanted by the flatt'ring scene,
Delude the fifter and exalt the queen,

To fall attendant on that fifter's fhade,

And die a victim with the queen he made?

And, witness Heav'n! I'd bear to see him die,
Did not that thought bring back the dreadful why ;
The blafting foulness, that must still defame
Our lifeless afhes, and united name.

-Ah! ftop, my foul, nor let one thought pursue
That fatal track, to wake thy pangs anew!
Perhaps fome pitying bard shall fave from death
Our mangled fame, and teach our woes to breathe;
Some kind hiftorian's pious leaves difplay

Our hapless loves, and wash the ftains away.
Fair Truth fhall blefs them, Virtue guard their cause,
And ev'ry chaste-ey'd matron weep applause.

Yet, tho' no bard fhould fing, or fage record,

I still shall vanquish my too faithlefs lord;
Shall fee at laft iny injur'd caufe prevail,
When pitying angels hear the mournful tale.

-

-And muft thy wife, by Heav'n's fevere command,
Before his throne thy fad accufer stand?

O Henry, chain my tongue, thy guilt atone,
Prevent my fuff'rings-ah! prevent thy own!
Or hear me, Heav'n: fince Henry's flill unkind,
With ftrong repentance touch his guilty mind;
And, oh! when anguifh tears his lab'ring foul,
Thro' his rack'd breaft when keenest horrors roll,
When, weeping, grov'ling in the dust, he lies,
An humbled wretch, a bleeding facrifice,
Then let me bear, ('tis all my griefs shall claim,
For life's loft honours, and polluted fame)

Then

Then let me bear thy mandate from on high,
With kind forgiveness let his Anna fly;
From ev'ry pang the much-lov'd fuff'rer free,
And breathe that mercy he denies to me.

ODE TO MIRTH.

BY DR. SMOLLETT.

ARENT of Joy! heart-eafing Mirth!
Whether of Venus or Aurora born,
Yet goddess fure of heav'nly birth,
Visit benign a fon of Grief forlorn :
Thy glitt'ring colours gay,
Around him, Mirth, display;
And o'er his raptur'd fenfe

Diffuse thy living influence...

So fhall each hill, in purer green array'd,

And flow'r, adorn'd in new-born beauty, glow;
The grove fhall fmooth the horrors of his shade,
And streams in murmurs fhall forget to flow.
Shine, goddefs, fhine with unremitted ray,
And gild (a fecond fun) with brighter beam our day.

Labour with thee forgets his pain,

And aged Poverty can fmile with thee;
If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain,
And weak th' uplifted arm of Tyranny.
The Morning opes on high

His univerfal eye ;

And on the world doth pour

His glories in a golden show'r.

Lo! Darkness, trembling 'fore the hostile ray,
Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn ;
The brood obfcene, that own her gloomy fway,
Troop in her rear, and fly th' approach of morn.

Pale

Pale shivering ghofts, that dread th' all-chearing light, Quick as the lightnings flash glide to fepulchral night.

But whence the gladd'ning beam,
That pours his purple stream

O'er the long prospect wide?
'Tis Mirth. I fee her fit
In majefty of light,

With Laughter at her fide.
Bright-ey'd Fancy, hovering near,
Wide waves her glancing wing in air;
And young Wit flings his pointed dart,
That guiltless ftrikes the willing heart.
Fear not now Affliction's pow'r,

Fear not now wild Paffion's rage;
Nor fear ye aught in evil hour,

Save the tardy hand of Age.

Now Mirth hath heard the fuppliant Poet's pray'r; No cloud that rides the blast shall vex the troubled air.

THE RAPE OF THE LOCK.

AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM.

IN FIVE CANTOS.

WH

INSCRIBED TO MRS. ARABELLA FERMOR.

BY MR. POP E.

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violare capillos;
Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuiffe tuis.

CANTO I.

MART.

HAT dire offence from am'rous caufes fprings,
What mighty contests rise from trivial things,

I fing. This verfe to Caryl, Mufe, is due;

This e'en Belinda may vouchsafe to view :

Slight is the fubject, but not fo the praise,
If the infpire, and he approve, my lays.

Say, what strange motive, Goddess, could compel
A well-bred lord t' affault a gentle belle?
O fay, what stranger caufe, yet unexplor'd,
Could make a gentle belle reject a lord ?
In tasks fo bold can little men engage,
And in foft bofoms dwell fuch mighty rage?

Sol thro' white curtains fhot a tim❜rous ray,
And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day:
Now lap-dogs give themselves the rouzing shake,
And fleepless lovers juft at twelve awake.

Thrice rung the bell, the flipper knock'd the ground,
And the prefs'd watch return'd a filver found:
Belinda ftill her downy pillow press'd;

Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy rest.
'Twas he had fummon'd to her filent bed
The morning dream that hover'd o'er her head :
A youth more glitt'ring than a birth-night beau,
(That e'en in flumber caus'd her cheek to glow)
Seem'd to her ear his winning lips to lay,
And thus in whispers faid, or feem'd to fay.

Fairest of mortals! thou diftinguish'd care
• Of thousand bright inhabitants of air!
If e'er one vifion touch'd thy infant thought,
Of all the nurse and all the priest have taught;
• Of airy elves by moon-light shadows seen,

• The filver token and the circled green;

• Or virgins vifited by angel pow'rs,

• With golden crowns and wreathes of heav'nly flow'rs;
• Hear, and believe! thy own importance know,
• Nor bound thy narrow views to things below.
• Some fecret truths, from learned pride conceal'd,
To maids alone and children are reveal'd;

What tho' no credit doubting wits may give, "The fair and innocent shall ftill believe.

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