Or as fome tradefmen, through fhow-glaffes,
Expose their wares to each that passes,
Toys of no use! high-priz'd commodities
Bought to no end! Estates in oddities !
Others, with like advantage drive at
Their gain, from store-houses in private :
Thus Delia shines in places general,
Is never miffing where the men are all;
Goes ev'n to church with godly airs,
To meet good company at prayers:
Where the devoutly plays her fan,
Looks up to heaven, but thinks on man :
You fit at home: enjoy your coufin,
While hearts are offer'd by the dozen :
O! born above your fex to rife,
With youth, wealth, beauty, titles---wife!
O! Lady bright, did ne'er you
In country fair, or country market,
A beau, whofe eloquence might charm ye,
Enlifting foldiers for the army:
He flatters every well-built youth,
And tells him every thing but---truth.
He cries, Good friend, I'm glad I hap'd in
Your company, you'll make a captain!
He lifts---but finds these gaudy shows
Soon chang'd, to furly locks, and blows:
'Tis now, March, rascal! what d'ye grumble ?
Thwack goes the cane! I'll make you humble.
Such weddings are: aut selembic “eng
Aimoft in all points to tus emblem.
While courtship lafs, t, dea
The fweeteft creature fun fina Adan
Had I the years of a Mettiviarem,
How in my charmer's puik Te uk al 'em?
O! take me to try arms, my beauty
I doat, adore the very fue tye !
They wed---but, fancy grown lefs warming,
Next morn, he thinks the bride jels charmings
He fays, nay fweart, My wile grows old an
One single month; tha filis tu koking,
What, madam, gadding every day!
Up to your room! there ftitch, or pray!
Such proves the marriage-fate! but for all
These truths, you'll wed, and korn the moral,
ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR FRIEND,
"Debitâ fparges lacryma favillam
S when the King of Peace, and Lord of Love, Sends down fome brighter angel from above, Pleas`d with the beauties of the heavenly Guest, Awhile we view him in full glory drest, But he, impatient from his heaven to stay, Soon difappears, and wings his airy way;
So did't thou vanish, eager to appear,
And shine triumphant in thy native sphere.
Yet had'ft thou all that virtue can bestow,
All, the Good practise, and the learned know;
Such holy rapture, as not warms, but fires,
While the foul seems retiring, or retires :
Such transports, as thofe faints in vifion fhare,
Who know not whether they are rapt through air,
Or bring down heaven to meet them in a prayer.
O! early loft! yet stedfast to survey
Envy, disease, and death, without dismay;
Serene, the fting of pain thy thoughts beguile,
And make afflictions, objects of a smile.
So the fam'd Patriarch, on his couch of stone,
Enjoy'd bright visions from th' eternal throne.
Thus wean'd from earth, where pleasure scarce can please,
Thy woes but haften'd thee to heaven and peace:
As angry winds, when loud the tempest roars,
More swiftly speed the vessel to the shores.
O! may these lays a lasting luftre shed
O'er thy dark urn, like lamps that grace the dead!
Strong were thy thoughts, yet reason bore the sway,
Humble, yet learn'd; though innocent, yet gay:
So pure of heart, that thou might'ft fafely show
Thy inmost bofom to thy baseft foe:
Careless of wealth, thy blifs a calm retreat,
Far from the infults of the fcornful great;
Thence looking with diidain on proudest things,
Thou deemed it mean the pageantry of kings;
Who build their pride on trappings of a throne,
A painted ribband, or a glittering ftone,
Ufelessly bright! 'twas thine the foul to raife
To nobler objects, fuch as angels praife!
To live, to mortals' empty fame, a foe;
And pity human joy, and human woe!
To view ev'n fplendid vice with generous hate,
In life unblemish'd, and in death fedate!
Then confcience, fhining with a lenient ray,
Dawn'd o'er thy foul, and promis'd endless day.
So from the fetting orb of Phoebus fly
Beams of calm light, and glitter to the sky.
Where now, O! where fhall I true friendship find
Among the treacherous race of base mankind?
Whom, whom confult in all th' uncertain ways
Of various life, fincere to blame, or praise ?
O! friend! O! falling in thy ftrength of years,
Warm from the melting foul receive these tears!
O! woods! O! wilds! O! every bowery shade!
So often vocal by his music made,
Now other founds---far other founds return,'
And o'er his herse with all your echoes mourn !---
Yet dare we grieve that foon the paths he trod
To heaven, and left vain man for Saints and God?
Thus in the theatre the fcenes unfold
A thousand wonders glorious to behold;
And here, or there, as the machine extends,
A hero rifes, or a God defcends :
But foon the momentary pleasure flies,
Swift vanishes the God, or hero dies.
Where were ye, Mufes, by what fountain fide,
What river sporting, when your favorite dy'd ?
He knew by verfe to chain the headlong floods,
Silence loud winds, or charm attentive woods.
Nor deign'd but to high* themes to tune the firing,
To fuch as heaven might hear, and angels fing:
Unlike those bards, who, uninform'd to play,
Grate on their jarring pipes a flashy lay:
Each line display'd united strength and case,
Form'd like his manners to inftruct and please.
So herbs of balmy excellence produce
A blooming flower and falutary juice:
And while each plant a fmiling grace reveals,
Ufefully gay! at once it charms, and heals.
Tranfcend ev'n after death, ye great, in show,
Lend pomp to afhes, and be vain in woe;
Hire fubftitutes to mourn with formal cries,
And bribe unwilling drops from venal eyes,
While here fincerity of grief appears,
Silence that speaks, and eloquence in tears!
While tir'd of life, we but confent to live
To fhow the world how really we grieve!
As fome fond fire, whose only fon lies dead,
All loft to comfort makes the duft his bed:
Hangs o'er his urn, with frantic grief deplores,
And bathes his clay-cold cheek with copious fhowers,
* Mr. Fenton intended to write upon moral fubjects.
|