POETRY.

ODE for the NEW YEAR, JANUARY 1, 1784.

Written by WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Efq; Poet-Laureat ; fet to Mufic by Mr. STANLEY, Mafter of the King's Band of Muficians; and performed at St. James's by the Gentlemen belonging to the Chapel, and Others.

E

NOUGH of arms; to happier ends

Her forward view Britannia bends;
Her gracious hofts, who grafp'd the fword,
Obedient to her awful word,

Though martial glory cease,

Shall now, with equal induftry,

Like Rome's brave fons, when Rome was free,
Refume the arts of peace.

O come, ye toil-worn wanderers, come
To genial hearths, and focial home,

The tender housewife's bufy care!
The board, with temperate plenty crown'd,
And fmiling progeny around,

That liften to the tale of war!

Yet be not war the favourite theme;
For what has war with blifs to do?
Teach them more juftly far to deem,
And own experience taught it you ;
Teach them 'tis in the will of fate;
Their frugal induftry alone
Can make my country truly great,

And in her blifs fecure their own.

Бе

1

Be all the fongs that footh their toil,
And bid the brow of labour fmile;
When through the loom the shuttle glides,
Or fhining hare the glebe divides;
Or bending to the woodman's ftroke,

To waft her commerce, bends the British oak;
Be all their fongs that foftea these,

Of calm content, and future well-earn'd eafe.

Nor dread left inborn spirit die :

One glorious leffon, early taught,
Will all the boafted powers fupply,
Of practis'd rules, and ftudied thought.
From the first dawn of reason's ray,
On the young bofom's yielding clay,
Strong be their country's love imprefs'd,
And with your own example fire their breaft.

Tell them, 'tis theirs to grafp the fword,
When Britain gives the awful word,
To bleed, to die, in Britain's cause :
And guard, from faction nobly free,
Their birth-right bleffing, liberty,
True liberty, that loves the laws.

THE

MAGDALEN...

[From ABELARD to ELOISA, a Poem, lately published.].

ILD at the found, to folitude I fly,

And meet the form familiar to my eye :-
She comes refulgent in her former charms!
The fpoufe of heaven is rendered to my arms!
Her voice I hear, on Abelard she calls,
And waves to Paraclete's neglected walls.
Yet, O forbear! thofe fatal fmiles conceal,
And not the woman, but the faint reveal;
The clafping hands, the fcattered locks difplay,
And ftreaming tears by angels wip'd away.
The head that bows to mercy's awful fhrine,
The glance that melts with charity divine,
The grateful burft of penitence forgiven,
And afpect radiant with the beams of heaven:
Till pure and candid as the robes they wear,
Her veftal-charge th' infpiring rapture share,

With clearer anthems hail the faviour's throne,
And pant for grace with ardours not their own.
That, where fecluded nature loves to pour
The limpid current through the myrtle bower,
While, oft as Hefper leads the starry throng,
Spontaneous harps the clofing ftrain prolong,
Defcending gods the refcu'd fpot may fhew
Where rofe in wilds a paradife below.

SONNET to Dr. BEATT I E.

FTEN, with fancy young, the live-long day
By fountain clear, my native dales among,
I've wander'd, listening to the plaintive lay,
Divineft minstrel! of that favourite throng
Who breathe in fimple rhyme enchanting fong.
Or loft in vifion wild, or tender thought,

Through many a gay romantic fcene at morn,
With thee I've haften'd to the haunt remote
Of folitude; or heard the hermit's note
Plaintive at eve; or o'er Eliza's urn

Shed the foft tear. Ah! could this verse with them
In beauty, tenderness, or fancy's glow
Compare, foon fhould the willing mufe entwine
A wreathe of laurel round thy honour'd brow.

EPITAPH on a ROBIN buried in a Grove.

TOP, wanderer! if by chance thou fhouldft come nigh,

STOP

And ere you part let fall a pitying figh;

For know, beneath the covert of this fhade

Lies a fweet warbler in oblivion laid,

Who once would charm you with his tuneful throat

With strains of melody, and heavenly note.

Then let both pity and compaffion move
A favage heart to tenderness and love;
And teach, a redbreast ne'er should be confin'd,
As, robb'd of liberty, to death he pin'd.

THE

WEEKLY ENTERTAINER.

For MONDAY, January 19, 1784.

As the communicate fome of the most beautiful

S the following communication, from a refpectable corre

verfes in Pope-"In the worst inn's worft room, &c." our readers will probably fee it with pleasure.

4 LETTER relating to the Duke of BUCKINGHAM, written by Lord ARRAN (afterwards Duke of HAMILTON) to SPRAT, Bibop of ROCHESTER, formerly Chaplain to the Duke. Tranjcribed from authentic Memorials of the VILLIERS Family.

MY LORD, MERE chance having thrown me into thofe parts by accident, as I was at York, in my journey towards Scotland, I heard of the duke of Buckingham's illness here, which made me take a refolution of waiting upon his grace, to fee what condition he was in. I arrived here on Friday in the afternoon, where I found him in a very low condition: he had been long ill of an ague, which had made him weak; but his understanding was as good as ever, and his noble parts were fo entire, that though I faw death in his looks at first fight, he would by no means think of it. He told me he was on horfeback but two days before, and that he found himself fo well at heart, that he was fure he could be in no danger of his life. He told me he had a VOL. III. 55. mighty

Kerby-moor Syde, April 17, 1687.

G

:

mighty defcent fallen upon his privities, with an inflammation and great fwelling; but he thought, by applying warm medicines, the fwelling would fall, and then he would be at ease: but it proved otherwife, for a mortification came on thofe parts, which ran up upon his belly, and fo mounted, which was the occafion of his death. So foon as I arrived, I sent to York for one Dr. Waler, for I found him here in a moft miferable condition he defired me to ftay with him, which I very willingly obeyed. I confefs it made my heart bleed to fee the duke of Buckingham in fo pitiful a place, and in fo bad a condition; › and, what made it worse, he was not at all fensible of it, for he thought in a day or two he fhould be well; and when we minded him of his condition, he faid it was not fo as we apprehended. The doctors told m his cafe was defperate, and, though he enjoyed the free exercife of his fenfes, that in a day or two at most it would kill him; but they durft not tell him fo: fo they put an hard part on me to pronounce death to him, which I faw approach fo faft, that I thought it was high time for him to think of another world, for it was impoffible for him to continue long in this. So I fent for a very worthy gentleman, Mr. Gibson, a neighbour of his grace's, who lives but a mile from this place, to be an affliftant to me in this work; fo we jointly together reprefented his condition to him, which I faw was at firft very uneafy; but I think we fhould not have difcharged the duty of honeft men, or I of a faithful kinfman, if we fhould have fuffered him to go out of this world without defiring him to prepare for death, and to look into his confcience.

After having plainly told him his condition, I asked him who I fhould fend for to be affiftant to him during the fmall time he had to live: he would make me no anfwer, which made me conjecture; and having formerly heard that he had been inclining to be a Roman Catholic, I afked him if I fhcald fend for a pricft; for I thought any act that could be like a Chriftian, was what his condition now wanted moft; but he pofitively told me that he was not of that perfuafion, and fo would not hear any more of that fubject, for he was of the church of England; but hitherto he would not hear of a parfon, though, he had declared his averfion for my offering him to fend for a prieft. But, after fome time, beginning to feel his distemper mount, he defired me to fend for the parfon of this parish, who faid prayers for him, which he joined in very freely, but fill did not think he should die; though this was yellerday, at íeven in the morning, and he died about eleven at night.

Mr. Giufon asked him if he had made a will, or if he would declare who was to be his beir: but to the first he answered,