Thy pray'r, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, The maker justly claims that world he made, 'Tis thus, withdrawn in ftate from human eye, 195 201 What strange events can strike with more surprize, Than those which lately ftrook thy wond'ring eyes? Yet, taught by thefe, confefs th' almighty juft, And where you can't unriddle, learn to truft! The Great, Vain Man, who far'd on coftly food, Whofe life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his iv'ry ftands with goblets fhine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the Cup, the graceless custom loft, And ftill he welcomes, but with lefs of coft. The mean, fufpicious Wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wand'ring poor; 215 With him I left the cup, to teach his mind 220 Long had our Pious Friend in virtue trod, But now the child half wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, 226 And meafur'd back his fteps to earth again. To what exceffes had his dotage run? 230 But God, to fave the father, took the son. 235 On founding pinions here the youth withdrew, The Sage stood wond'ring as the Seraph flew. 241 Thus look'd Elifsha when, to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky; The fiery pomp afcending left the view; A FAIRY TALE. IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STILE. BY THE SAME. IN Britain's ifle, and Arthur's days, When midnight faeries daunc'd the maze, Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, Endow'd with courage, fenfe and truth, 5 *The fable of this elegant, but furely immoral, poem is not the invention of Dr. Parnell, who had it, in all pro bability, from Mores Dialogues. It is a production of the darker ages, and makes the eightyeth chapter of the Gesta Romanorum. His mountain back mote well be faid, Yet, fpite of all that Nature did He felt the force of Edith's eyes, Cou'd ladies look within; But one Sir Topaz dress'd with art, He had a shape to win. Edwin (if right I read my fong) "Twas near an old enchaunted court, His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, With weary steps he quits the fhades, And drops his limbs adown. 10 15 20 30 But fcant he lays him on the floor, A trembling rocks the ground: On all the walls around. Now founding tongues affail his ear, Come pranckling o'er the place. But (trust me, gentles!) never yet Or half fo rich before; 35 40 45 The country lent the sweet perfumes, The fea the pearl, the sky the plumes, Now whilft he gaz'd, a gallant dreft With awfull accent cry'd; What mortal of a wretched mind, Has here prefum'd to hide? 50 |