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Worn with difeafe, and never-ceafing pain,
How firmly did thy foul her feat maintain !
Early thy fide the mortal shaft receiv'd,
All, but the wounded hero, faw and griev'd.
No fenfe of fmart, no anguish, could control,
Or turn the generous purpofe of his foul.
Witness ye nobler arts, by heaven defign'd
To charm the fenfes, and improve the mind,
How through your mazes, with inceffant toil,
He urg'd his way to reap th' immortal spoil !
So fabled Orpheus tun'd his potent song,
Death's circling fhades and Stygian glooms among.
Of thy great labours this, the last * and chief,
At once demands our wonder, and our grief;
Thy foul in clouded majesty till now,
Its finish'd beauties did but partly show,
Wondering we faw difclos'd the ample store,
Griev'd in that inftant, to expect no more.

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So in the evening of fome doubtful day, And clouds divided with a mingled ray, Haply the golden fun unveils his light, And his whole glories fpreads at once to fight; Th' enliven'd world look up with glad fome chear, Blefs the gay fcene, nor heed the night fo near; Sudden, the lucent orb drops swiftly down Through western fkies, to fhine in worlds unknown. March 28, 1720.

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WM. COWPER.

FROM

* The Siege of Damascus.

F

ROM thy long languishing, and painful ftrife-
Of breath and labour drawn, and wafting life,
Accomplish'd fpirit! thou at length art free,
Born into blifs and immortality!

Thy ftruggles are no more; the palm is won;
Thy brows encircled with the victor's crown;
While lonely left, and defolate below,
Full grief I feel, and all a BROTHER'S Woe!
Yet would I linger on, a little space,
Before I clofe my quick-expiring race,
Till I have gather'd up, with grateful pains,
Thy WORKS, thy dear unperifhing remains;
An undecaying MONUMENT to stand,
Rais'd to thy name by thy own skilful hand.
Then let me wing from earth my willing way,
To meet thy foul in blaze of living day,
Rapt to the skies, like thee, with joyful flight,
An inmate of the heavens, adopted into light!
30 March, 1720.

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JABEZ HUGHES.
Qb. 17 Jan. 1731.-
Anno t. 46.

IMMOR

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MMORTAL Bard! though from the world retir'd, Still known to fame, ftill honour'd, and admir'd! While, fill'd with joy, in happier realms you ftray,

And dwell in mansions of eternal day;

While you, confpicuous through the heavenly choir, 5
With swelling rapture tune the chosen lyre;
Where echoing angels the glad notes prolong,
Or with attentive filence crown your fong;
Forgive the Muse that in unequal lays
Offers this humble tribute of her praise.

Loft in thy works, how oft I pass the day,
While the swift hours fteal unperceiv'd away;
There, in fweet union, wit and virtue charm,
And nobleft fentiments the bofom warm;
The brave, the wise, the virtuous, and the fair,
May view themselves in fadeless colours there.

Through every polish'd piece correctness flows.
Yet each bright page with fprightly fancy glows;
Oh! happy elegance, where thus are join'd
A folid judgment, and a wit refin’d !

Here injur'd Phocyas and Eudocia claim
A lafting pity and a lafting fame :
Thy heroine's fofter virtues charm the fight,
And fill our fouls with ravishing delight.
Exalted love and dauntless courage meet,
To make thy hero's character compleat.
This finish'd piece the noblest pens commend;
And ev'n the critics are the poet's friend.

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Led

Led on by thee, thofe * flowery paths I view,
For ever lovely, and for ever new,

Where all the Graces with joint force engage,
To stem th' impetuous follies of the age:
Virtue, there deck'd in ever-blooming charms,
With such resistless rays of beauty warms,
That Vice, abash'd, confounded, skulks away,
As night retires at dawn of rofy day.

Struck with his guilt, the hardy Atheist dreads
Approaching fate, and trembles as he reads:
Vanquish'd by reason, yet afham'd to fly,
He dares not own a God, nor yet deny:
Convinc'd, though late, forgiveness he implores;
Shrinks from the jaws of hell, and heaven adores.
Hither the wild, the frolick, and the gay,

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As thoughtless through their wanton rounds they stray, Compell'd by fame, repair with curious eye,

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And their own various forms with wonder spy.
The cenfor fo polite, fo kindly true,

They fee their faults, and ficken at the view.
Hence trifling Damon ceases to be vain;

And Cloe fcorns to give her lover pain ;

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Strephon is true, who ne'er was true before;

Here to ftand foremost on the lift of fame
Yet ftill the traces of thy hand we see,
Some of the brightest thoughts are due to thee.

And Cælia bids him love, but not adore.
Though ADDISON and STEELE the honour claim,

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While

Alluding to the Spectators written by Mr. Hughes.

While then for thofe illuftrious bards we mourn,
The Muse shall vifit thy DISTINGUISH'D URN;
With copious tears bedew the facred ground,
And plant the never-fading bay around.

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Here through the gloom, aspiring bards explore Thefe awful relicks, and be vain no more : Learning, and wit, and fame itself muft die; VIRTUE alone can towering reach the sky. This crown'd his life. Admire not, heaven in view, 56 He to the glorious prize with transport flew. A fate fo bleft fhould check our streaming woe, He reigns above, his works furvive below.

J. BUNCE,

Late of Trinity-Hall,
Çambridge..

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