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What tho' the theme transcends my artless lays, The mufe fhall fwell her numbers in thy praise : The murm'ring ftreams fhall echo to the found, And groves refponfive spread the ftrains around; Slow winds fhall bear the heavy notes along, And diftant hills return the mournful fong.

T'enlarge the foul, and clear the dubious mind, T'unfold celeftial wonders to mankind,

To stamp bright knowledge on thy youthful care,
With sweet persuasion and endearing air,
With gentle manners to entice the heart,
Was once thy happy and peculiar art.
But fnatch'd, alas! to yon immortal plains,
Where glorious angels hymn feraphic strains;
High where yon beamy orbs, refplendent, glow,
He drops a tear for this fad world below.

But GREW, thy planets downward fhall be hurl'd,
And wild confufion fink a guilty world;

E'en time's white fore-lock fhall in chains be bound, Earth melt to drofs, and Cynthia ceafe her round. Then fhall oblivion blast the hero's fame,

The pomp of monarchs, and the poet's flame; Then thy good name with matter's felf fhall blend, Forgot the father, husband, and the friend.

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Quick as the fhuttle fly all human things, Time wafts us rapid on his fleeting wings; Soon fhall the fwain that tunes this plaintive lyre, Kifs the cold earth, and all his flame expire; Then may some muse, by tender pity mov❜d, Moan in foft elegy the youth fhe lov❜d. Yet blooming virtue fhall triumphant rise, Spurn the dull earth, and gain her native skies Then shall the juft with holy raptures fir'd, With charms transported, and with God inspir'd, Strike their gold harps, and wake the lofty chord, In joyful chorus.round th' eternal Lord!

Oh! may my foul by thy example warm'd, With Virtue's rules, and Virtue's fons be charm'd; Regard them tho' they shine in humble state, Far from the glitter of the wealthy great. Bleft man, in counfel as in fenfe profound, True to thy truft, and ever blameless found; Stranger to ftrife, a noble mind confest, No raging difcord harbour'd in thy breast; Peaceful thou walk'd this wild of "weeds and flow'rs," Where envy hiffes, and blind fortune fhow'rs; Where fyftems endless frantic zeal inspire,

Warm youth they madden, and cold age they fire. Led by no mode, thou follow'd Nature's laws, And trufted in the one unerring caufe!

Thus

;

Thus paff'd thy footsteps thro' this mazy round, Whilft thy wing'd genius foar'd to worlds around Till grily death with darkness clos'd thy eyes, And angels fnatch'd thy fpirit to the skies! But God is wife-then, to his righteous sway, Submit, my mufe, and cease thy plaintive lay.

A

RID D L E.

WRITTEN

ARRICADO'D with white bone,

BA

Lab'ring under many a groan, Curtain'd in my room with red, And smoothly laid in crimson bed; 'Tis I diffolve the ftony heart, And comfort's balmy joys impart; 'Tis I can rule the wav'ting croud, Or tame the haughty and the proud; 'Tis I o'er beauty oft prevail, That queen of life's capricious vale; 'Tis I can fire the warrior's foul, Or paffion's giddy voice control;

1759.

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Senates have felt my lordly fway,

And kings my magic pow'r obey;

'Tis I, fo garrulously gay,

That rouze the dames whofe heads are grey;

Gilded o'er with truth and lies,

Under many a mixt disguise,
I dress to cheat unpractif'd youth,
With falfhood's garb for honeft truth;
XANTIPPE bold, in dead of night,
Taught SOCRATES to own my might!

Strange enchantrefs, motely creature,
Oddeft prodigy of nature!

As raging billows, now I'm wild,
And now as warbling fountains mild;
Now religion's laws proclaiming,
And now the good and juft defaming;
Now cementing patriotifm,
And now in church provoking schism.
Enough, O muse!-kind reason cries,
The man who has this monster dies!
Expound my riddle, if you're able,
For 'twas this confounded BABEL!

ODE

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WH

And heav'n is wrap'd in tempefts dire,

When storms with ftorms dread combat wage, And thunders roll ætherial fire ;

Returning zephyrs od❜rous race,
And radiant SoL's all-chearing face,
The trembling mortals moft defire.

When Eurus charg'd with livid clouds,
Scours o'er old ocean's wild domain,
And Boreas rends the veffel's fhrouds,
And o'er her fwells the raging main;

If lighter breezes fhould fucceed,

And IRIS fweet, of varied hue,
Lift o'er the main her beamy head,
What raptures fill the marine crew!

Thus,

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