VII.

Her dimple cheek, and roguish eye,
Her flender wafte, and taper thigh,

I always thought provoking;
But, faith, tho' I talk waggishly,
I mean no more than joking.

VIII.

Then be not jealous, friend, for why?
My lady marchionefs is nigh,

To fee I ne'er shall hurt ye;

Befides, you know full well, that I
Am turn'd of five-and-forty.

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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 breaft 10 My foul retir'd, and flumber 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 use design'd.

IV.

Hard by, a venerable priest,

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

Awoke his morning fong;

Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring stream;

The birth of fouls was all his theme,

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He fang" th' eternal rolling flame, "That vital mass, that still the fame

"Does all our minds compose:

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"But fhap'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 design'd,

"And blefs'd the new-born pair:

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

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"Then down he fent the fouls he made, 35

"To feek them bodies here:

VII.

"But parting from their warm abode
"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 sweeteft 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 vast attention heard,

While Ganges ceas'd to flow:

"Sure then (I cry'd) might I but fee

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"That gentle nymph that twinn'd with me, "" I may be happy too.

X.

"Some courteous angel, tell me where, 55
"What diftant lands this unknown fair,
"Or diftant feas 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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4.

PASTORAL.

BY AMBROSE PHILIPS.

GERON, HOBBINOL, LANQUET.

GERON.

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

HOBBINOL.

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

LANQUET.

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

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