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PIETY, OR THE VISION*.

"TWAS when the night in filent fable fled,

When chearful morning fprung with rifing red,
When dreams and vapours leave to croud the brain,
And beft the vifion draws its heavenly scene;
'Twas then, as flumbering on my couch I lay,
A fudden fplendor feem'd to kindle day,
A breeze came breathing in a sweet perfume,
Blown from eternal gardens, fill'd the room;
And in a void of blue, that clouds invest,
Appear'd a daughter of the realms of reft;
Her head a ring of golden glory wore,
Her honour'd hand the facred volume bore,
Her raiment glittering feem'd a filver white,
And all her fweet companions fons of light.
Straight as I gaz'd, my fear and wonder grew,
Fear barr'd my voice, and wonder fix'd my
view;
When lo! a cherub of the fhining croud
That fail'd as guardian in her azure cloud,
Fann'd the foft air, and downwards feem'd to glide,
And to my lips a living coal apply'd.

Then while the warmth o'er all my pulses ran
Diffufing comfort, thus the maid began :

octavo editions

They were first Mr. James Ar

*This and the following poem are not in the of Dr. Parnell's Poems published by Mr. Pope. communicated to the public by the late ingenious buckle, and published in his Hibernicus's Letters, No. 62. GOLDSMITH.They are now in fome degree corrected, from the volume of "Pofthumous Poems." N.

"Where glorious manfions are prepar❜d above, "The feats of mufic, and the feats of love, "Thence I defcend, and Piety my name,

"To warm thy bofom with celestial flame, "To teach thee praises mix'd with humble prayers, "And tune thy foul to fing feraphic airs.

"Be thou my Bard." A vial here fhe caught (An Angel's hand the cryftal vial brought); And as with awful found the word was faid, She pour'd a facred unction on my head; Then thus proceeded: "Be thy Mufe thy zeal, "Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal. "While other pencils flattering forms create, "And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the great; "While other pens exalt the vain delight,

"Whose wafteful revel wakes the depth of night; "Or others foftly fing in idle lines

"How Damon courts, or Amaryllis fhines; "More wifely thou select a theme divine, "Fame is their recompence, 'tis heaven is thine. "Defpife the raptures of difcorded fire, "Where wine, or paffion, or applause inspire "Low restless life, and ravings born of earth, "Whose meaner subjects speak their humble birth, "Like working feas, that, when loud winters blow, "Not made for rifing, only rage below.

"Mine is a warm and yet a lambent heat, "More lafting still, as more intenfely great, "Produc'd where prayer, and praise, and pleasure "And ever mounting whence it shot beneath. [breathe,

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Unpaint the love, that, hovering over beds, "From glittering pinions guilty pleasure sheds; "Reftore the colour to the golden mines

"With which behind the feather'd idol fhines; "To flowering greens give back their native care, "The rofe and lily, never his to wear;

"To fweet Arabia fend the balmy breath;

"Strip the fair flesh, and call the phantom Death: "His bow be fabled o'er, his fhafts the fame, "And fork and point them with eternal flame.

"But urge thy powers, thine utmost voice advance, "Make the loud ftrings against thy fingers dance: " "Tis love that Angels praise and men adore, " "Tis love divine that afks it all and more. "Fling back the gates of ever-blazing day, "Pour floods of liquid light to gild the way; "And all in glory wrapt, through paths untrod, "Pursue the great unfeen descent of God. "Hail the meek Virgin, bid the child appear, "The child is God, and call him Jesus here. "He comes, but where to reft? A manger's nigh, "Make the great Being in a manger lie;

"Fill the wide sky with Angels on the wing, "Make thousands gaze, and make ten thousand sing; "Let men afflict him, men he came to fave, "And still afflict him till he reach the grave; "Make him refign'd, his loads of sorrow meet, "And me, like Mary, weep beneath his feet; "I'll bathe my treffes there, my prayers rehearse, "And glide in flames of love along my verse.

"Ah! while I speak, I feel my bosom swell, "My raptures fmother what I long to tell. << "Tis God! a prefent God! through cleaving air "I fee the throne, and fee the Jefus there

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"Plac'd on the right. He fhews the wounds he bore (My fervours oft have won him thus before); "How pleas'd he looks! my words have reach'd his ear; "He bids the gates unbar; and calls me near."

She ceas'd. The cloud on which she feem'd to tread Its curls unfolded, and around her spread; Bright Angels waft their wings to raise the cloud, And sweep their ivory lutes, and fing aloud; The scene moves off, while all its ambient sky Is turn'd to wondrous mufic as they fly; And foft the fwelling founds of mufic grow, And faint their softness, till they fail below.

My downy fleep the warmth of Phoebus broke, And while my thoughts were fettling, thus I fpoke. Thou beauteous vifion! on the foul imprefs'd, When most my reason would appear to reft, "T was fure with pencils dipt in various lights Some curious Angel limn'd thy facred fights; From blazing funs his radiant gold he drew, While moons the filver gave, and air the blue. I'll mount the roving winds expanded wing, And feek the facred hill, and light to fing; ('Tis known in Jewry well) I'll make my lays, Obedient to thy fummons, found with praise.

But ftill I fear, unwarm'd with holy flame, I take for truth the flatteries of a dream;

And barely wish the wondrous gift I boast,
And faintly practise what deferves it moft.

Indulgent Lord! whose gracious love displays
Joy in the light, and fills the dark with ease!
Be this, to bless my days, no dream of blifs;
Or be, to bless the nights, my dreams like this.

BACCHUS,

OR,

THE DRUNKEN METAMORPHOSIS,

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s Bacchus, ranging at his leisure,

(Jolly Bacchus, king of pleafure!)

Charm'd the wide world with drink and dances,

And all his thousand airy fancies,

Alas! he quite forgot the while
His favourite vines in Lefbos ifle.

The god, returning ere they dy'd,
Ah! fee my jolly fauns, he cry'd,
The leaves but hardly born are red,
And the bare arms for pity spread:
The beafts afford a rich manure;
Fly, my boys, to bring the cure;
Up the mountains, o'er the vales,
Through the woods, and down the dales;
For this, if full the cluster grow,
Your bowls thall doubly overflow.

So chear'd with more officious hafte
They bring the dung of every beast ;

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