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Lovely THAIS fits beside thee,

Take the good the Gods provide thee.The many rend the skies with loud applaufe; So LOVE was crown'd, but MUSIC won the cause. The PRINCE, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and figh'd again :
At length, with LOVE and WINE at once opprefs'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.
Now ftrike the golden lyre again:

A louder yet, and yet a louder ftrain.
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And roufe him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark! hark! the horrid found

Has rais'd up his head;

As awak'd from the dead
And amaz'd, he ftares around.

Revenge, revenge, TIMOTHEUS cries,

See the FURIES arife:

See the fnakes that they rear,

How they hifs in their hair

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!
Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

Thefe are GRECIAN ghofts, that in battle were flain, And unbury'd remain

Inglorious on the plain :

Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew.

Behold! how they tofs their torches on high,
How they point to the PERSIAN abodes,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods.-
The princes applaud, with a furious joy ;
And the KING feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy;
THAIS led the way,

To light him to his prey,

And, like another HELEN, fir'd another TROY.

Thus, long ago,

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute;
TIMOTHEUS, to his breathing flute,
And founding lyre,

Could fwell the foul to rage, or kindle foft defire.
At laft divine CECILIA came,
Inventrefs of the vocal frame;
The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore,
Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,
And added length to folemn founds,

With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old TIMOTHEUS yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown;

He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

DIANA.

UEEN and huntress, chafte and fair,
Now the fun is laid to fleep;

Seated in thy filver car,

State in wonted manner keep.
Hefperus entreats thy light,
Goddefs excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpofe;
Cynthia's fhining orb was made

Heav'n to clear, when day did close;
Blefs us then with wifhed fight,
Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,

And thy chryftal fhining quiver;

Give unto the flying hart,

Space to breathe, how fhort foever:
That thou mak'ft a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright-

A WISH.

THOUGH time has not sprinkled his frost on
my head,
Yet fome of its bloffoming honours are shed;
And I hope I remember, without being told,
If we live long enough, that we all muft grow
old.

So let me fet down in a humour for mufing,
Since nothing is eafier than wifhing and chufing,
And gravely confider what life I'd commence,
Should I reach to fome fifteen or twenty years
hence.

The young ones fwarm'd out, and all likely to thrive,

And fomething ftill left to maintain the old hive; I'd retire with my dame to a vill of my own, Where we'd neftle together, like DARBY and JOAN. On the flope of a hillock be plac'd my retreat, With a wood at the back, and a stream at its feet; In front be a meadow, rich, verdant, and gay, Where my horfe and a cow may find pasture and hay.

A garden, befure, I muft not be without,

With walls or high hedges well fenc'd all about, All blufhing with fruit, and all fragrant with flowers, With dry gravel walks, and with fweet fhady

bowers.

For my houfe, if 'tis lightfome and roomy and

warm,

Fit to take in a friend, and to keep out a ftorm,
I care not a ftraw whether brick, ftone, or plafter;
And if 'tis old-fashion'd, why fo is the mafier.

Of poultry and pigeons 'tis needless to speak,
How my geefe they fhall cackle, my fucking-pigs
fqueak;

All this is effential to good country fare;
And 'tis not my intention to live upon air.

So much for externals;-and now to myself,
A thing more important than dainties and pelf,
For it fignifies little how clever the plan,
If the fource of enjoyment be not in the MAN.
Unambitious by nature, pacific and cool,
I have not many turbulent paffions to rule,
And, when rightly matur'd by reflection and age,
I may put on the semblance, at least, of a fage.
But let me beware left I fink, in the close,
Too foon in the arms of lethargic repose,
My heart void of feeling, of fancy my head,
And to each warm emotion as cold as the dead.

O fweet SENSIBILITY! foul of the foul!
Ill purchas'd the wifdom that thee muft controul:
Of thy kindly fpirit when once we're bereft,
In life there is nothing worth living for left.
Then let it be ever the chief of my art
To fofter a generous glow in my heart;
Give way to effufions of friendship and love,
And the palfy of age from my bofom remove.

My boys and their spouses, my girl and her mate, Shall come when they pleafe, and ne'er knock at the gate;

And at CHRISTMAS we'll revel in mirth and good cheer,

Tho' we live poorer for it the rest of the year.

An old friend from the town fhall fometimes take a walk,

And fpend the day with me in fociable talk;

We'll difcufs knotty matters, compare what we've read,

And, warm'd with a bottle, move gaily to bed.

When ev'nings grow long, and we're gloomy at home,

To vary the fcene, 'mongft my neighbours I'll roam;
See how the world paffes, collect all the news,
And return with a load of new books and reviews,

In fhort, 'tis the fum of my wifh and defire,
That cheerfulness ever my breaft fhould inspire;
Let my purfe become light, and my liquor run dry,
So my
ftock of good fpirits hold out till I die.

I have nothing to ask in the finishing scene
But a confcience approving, a bofom ferene,
To rife from life's banquet a fatisfied gueft,
Thank the Lord of the feast, and in hope go to rest.

THE HAPPY FIRE-SIDE.

THE hearth was clean, and the fire clear,

The kettle on for tea; PALEMON, in his elbow chair,

As blefs'd as man could be.

CLARINDA, who his heart poffefs'd,
And was his new-made bride,
With head reclin'd upon his breast,
Sat toying by his fide.

Stretch'd at his feet, in happy ftate,
A fav'rite dog was laid;
By whom a little sportive cat,
In wanton humour, play'd.

CLARINDA's hand he gently prefs'd,
She ftole an am'rous kifs,
And blushing, modeftly confefs'd
The fulnefs of her blifs.

PALEMON, with a heart elate,
Pray'd to almighty Jove,
That it might ever be his fate,
Juft fo to live, and love.
Be this eternity, he cry'd,
And let no more be giv'n;
Continue thus, my lov'd FIRE-SIDE,
I'll afk no other heav'n.

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