Then thus proceeded: Be thy mufe thy zeal, • Dare to be good, and all my joys reveal. " • While other pencils flatt'ring forms create, And paint the gaudy plumes that deck the Great ; • While other pens exalt the vain delight, • Whose wasteful 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,. • Whofe 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 ftill, as more intenfely great, [breathe,, • Produc'd where pray'r, and praise, and pleasure And ever mounting whence it shot beneath.. < Unpaint the love, that hov'ring over beds, With which behind the feather'd idol fhines; To flow'ring greens give back their native care, < The rose and lilly, never his to wear ; • To sweet Arabia send the balmy breath; Strip the fair flesh, and call the phantom, Death ; But urge thy pow'rs, thine utmost voice advance, < Make the loud ftrings against thy fingers dance; • 'Tis love that Angels praise, and men adore, • "Tis love divine that asks 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, thro' 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 rest? A manger's nigh, • Make the great Being in a manger lie ; Fill the wide fky with Angels on the wing, • Make thousands gaze, and make ten thousand fing; 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 forrow meet, Ah! while I fpeak, I feel my bosom swell, My raptures fmother what I long to tell. 'Tis GOD! a prefent GOD! Thro' cleaving air I fee the throne, and fee the JESUS there Plac'd on the right. He fhews the wounds he bore, (My fervours oft have won him thus before) [ear; How pleas'd he looks! my words have reach'd his * He bids the gates unbar, and calls me near.'. She ceas'd. The cloud on which the feem'd to tread, It's curls unfolded, and around her spread; Bright Angels waft their wings to raise the cloud, The scene moves off, while all its ambient sky My downy fleep the warmth of Phoebus broke, But ftill I fear, unwarm'd with holy flame, I take for truth the flatt'ries of a dream And And barely wish the wondrous gift I boast, B A с с H U A S Bacchus ranging at his leisure (Jolly Bacchus, king of pleasure !) S. Charm'd the wide world with drink and dances, And all his thousand airy fancies, His fav'rite vines in Lefbos ifle. The God, returning ere they dy'd, Ah! fee my jolly Fauns he cry'd, And the bare arms for pity spread : The beafts afford a rich manure ; Fly, my boys, to bring the cure; Up |