See Judah's promis'd king, bereft of all,
Driv'n out an exile from the face of Saul,
To diftant caves the lonely wand'rer flies,
To feek that peace a tyrant's frown denies.
Hear the fweet accents of his tuneful voice,
Hear him o'erwhelm'd with forrow yet rejoice,
No womanish or wailing grief has part,
No, not a moment, in his royal heart,
'Tis manly mufic, fuch as martyrs make,
Suff'ring with gladness for a Saviour's fake;
His foul exults, hope animates his lays,
The sense of mercy kindles into praise,
And wilds familiar with the lion's roar,
Ring with extatic founds unheard before;
"Tis love like his that can alone defeat
The foes of man, or make a defert sweet.
Religion does not cenfure or exclude
Unnumber'd pleasures harmlessly purfu'd.
To ftudy culture, and with artful toil
To meliorate and tame the stubborn foil,
To give diffimilar yet fruitful lands
The grain or herb or plant that each demands,
To cherish virtue in an humble state,
And share the joys your bounty may create,
To mark the matchlefs workings of the pow'r
That fhuts within its feed the future flow'r,
Bid these in elegance of form excel,
In colour these, and those delight the fmell,
Sends nature forth the daughter of the fkies,
To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes;
To teach the canvafs innocent deceit,
Or lay the landscape on the fnowy sheet,
These, these are arts purfu'd without a crime,
That leave no stain upon the wing of time.
Me, poetry (or rather, notes that aim
Feebly and vainly at poetic fame)
Employs, fhut out from more important views,
Fast by the banks of the flow winding Ouse;
Content, if thus fequefter'd I may raise
A monitor's though not a poet's praife,
And while I teach an art too little known,
To close life wifely, may not wafte my own.
EAS'NING at every step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way,
While meaner things, whom inftinct leads,
Are rarely known to stray.
One filent eve I wander'd late,
And heard the voice of love,
The turtle thus addrefs'd her mate,
And footh'd the list'ning dove:
Our mutual bond of faith and truth,
No time shall disengage,
Those bleffings of our early youth,
Shall cheer our latest age.
While innocence without disguise,
And conftancy fincere,
Shall fill the circles of thofe eyes,
And mine can read them there;
Those ills that wait on all below,
Shall ne'er be felt by me,
Or gently felt, and only fo,
As being fhar'd with thee.
When lightnings flash among the trees,
Or kites are hov'ring near,
I fear left thee alone they seize,
And know no other fear.
Tis then I feel myself a wife,
And prefs thy wedded fide,
Refolv'd an union form'd for life,
Death never fhall divide.
But oh! if fickle and unchafte,
(Forgive a tranfient thought)
Thou couldst become unkind at last,
And scorn thy prefent lot,
No need of lightnings from on high,
Or kites with cruel beak,
Denied th' endearments of thine eye
This widow'd heart would break.
Thus fang the fweet fequefter'd bird,
Soft as the paffing wind,
And I recorded what I heard,
A leffon for mankind.
A FA B L
A raven while with gloffy breast,
Her new-laid eggs fhe fondly prefs'd,
And on her wicker-work high mounted
Her chickens prematurely counted,
(A fault philofophers might blame
If quite exempted from the fame)
Enjoy'd at ease the genial day,
'Twas April as the bumkins fay,
The legislature call'd it May.
But fuddenly a wind as high
As ever swept a winter sky,
VOL. I.
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