Where on the world's remoteft verge Th' unactive feasons lie, And not one genial ray The rigor of the sky. unbinds On that unhabitable shore, Where I may view without a fhade, The culminating fun. Beneath th' Æquator, or the Pole, In fafety could I rove; Could live for her I love. A PROLOGUE for the STROLLERS. GENTEELS, of old pert prologues led the way, To guide, defend, and usher in the play, As for the play-'tis hardly worth our care, Ev'n in our old original, a cart. With pride inverted, and fantastic power, We strut the fancy'd monarchs of an hour; While duns our emperors and heroes fear, * And Cleomenes ftarves in earnest here: The mightiest kings and queens we keep in pay, To aggravate the cafe, we have not one, No windmills, dragons, millers, conjurers, Nothing before you but meer fenfe and wit. Humbly content and pleas'd with what was dreft, The Spartan Hero, a tragedy, by Mr. Dryden. The The EIGHTH PSALM TRANSLATED. King eternal and divine! The world is thine alone: Above the stars thy glories fhine, How far extends thy mighty name ! That fun thy wonders fhall proclaim, The infant's tongue shall speak thy power, And vindicate thy laws; The tongue that never spoke before, Shall labour in thy cause. For when I lift my thoughts and eyes, Who in their dance attend the moon, And pour around her filver throne, Lord! what is mortal man? that he Thy kind regard should share? What is his fon, who claims from thee And challenges thy care? Next to the bleft angelic kind, Him all revere, and all obey His delegated reign, The flocks that through the valley ftray, The furious tiger speeds his flight, Whatever horrid monsters tread The paths beneath the fea, And fullenly obey. O Lord, how far extends thy name! That fun thy wonders fhall proclaim, Thy deeds from pole to pole. PSALM the Twenty-fourth, PARAPHRASED. F AR as the world can ftretch its bounds, The Lord is king of all, His wondrous power extends around The circuit of the ball. For he within the gloomy deeps Its dark foundations caft, And rear'd the pillars of the earth Amid the watery waste. Who fhall afcend his Sion's hill, And fee Jehovah there? Who from his facred fhrine shall breathe The facrifice of prayer? He only whofe unsully'd foul Fair virtue's paths has trod, Who with clean hands and heart regards; On him fhall his indulgent Lord From God his Saviour fhall defcend Of those who seek his righteous ways, Is this the chofen race, Who baik in all his bounteous fmiles, Lift up your stately heads, ye doors, Ye everlasting doors, who guard The paffes of the skies. Swift from your golden hinges leap, Your barriers roll away, Now throw your blazing portals wide,, And burft the gates of day. For |