Far as the diftant regions, where

The beauteous morning springs,

And scatters odours through the air,
From her refplendent wings;

Unto the new-found realms, which fee

The latter fun arife,

When, with an eafy progrefs, he

Rolls down the nether fkies.

July, 1706.

PHILOMELA.

To Mr. WATTS, on reading his Hore Lyricæ.

HA

AIL, heaven-born Muse! that with celeftial flame,
And high feraphic numbers, durft attempt
To gain thy native kies. No common theme
Merits thy thought, felf-conscious of a foul
Superior, though on earth detain'd a-while;
Like fome propitious angel, that's defign'd
A resident in this inferior orb,

To guide the wandering fouls to heavenly blifs,
Thou feem'ft; while thou their everlasting fongs
Haft fung to mortal ears, and down to earth
Transferr'd the work of heaven; with thought sublime,
And high fonorous words, thou fweetly sing st
To thy immortal lyre. Amaz'd, we view
The towering height ftupendous, while thou foar'ft
Above the reach of vulgar eyes or thought,
Hymning th' Eternal Father; as of old
When first th' Almighty from the dark abyfs

Of everlasting night and filence call'd

The fhining worlds with one creating word,
And rais'd from nothing all the heavenly hofts,
And with external glories fill'd the void,
Harmonious Seraphs tun'd their golden harps,
And with their chearful Hallelujahs blefs'd
The bounteous author of their happinefs;
From orb to orb th' alternate mufick rang,
And from the crystal arches of the sky
Reach'd our then glorious world, the native feat
Of the first happy pair, who join'd their fongs
To the loud echo's of th' angelic choirs,
And fill'd with blifsful hymns, terreftrial heaven,
The paradife of God where all delights
Abounded, and the pure ambrofial air,

Fann'd by mild zephyrs, breath'd eternal sweets,
Forbidding death and forrow, and bestow'd
Fresh heavenly bloom, and gay immortal youth.
Not fo, alas! the vile apoftate race,

Who in mad joys their brutal hours employ'd,
Affaulting with their impious blafphemies
The Power fupreme that gave them life and breath;
Incarnate fiends! outrageous they defy'd
Th' Eternal's thunder, and almighty wrath
Fearless provok'd, which all the other devils
Would dread to meet; remembering well the day
When, driven from pure immortal feats above,
A fiery tempest hurl'd them down the skies,
And hung upon the rear, urging their fall

the dark, deep, unfathomable gulph,

Where

Where bound on fulphurous lakes to glowing rocks
With adamantine chains, they wail their woes,
And know Jehovah great as well as good;
And fix'd for ever by eternal fate,

With horror find his arm omnipotent.

Prodigious madness! that the facred Mufe,
First taught in heaven to mount immortal heights,
And trace the boundless glories of the iky,
Should now to every idol bafely bow,
And curfe the deity fhe once ador`d,
Erecting trophies to each fordid vice,
And celebrating the infernal praise
Of haughty Lucifer, the defperate foe
Of God and man, and winning every hour
New votaries to hell, while all the fiends
Hear thefe accurfed lays, and, thus outdone,
Raging they try to match the human race,
Redoubling all their hellish blafphemies,
And with loud curses rend the gloomy vault.
Ungrateful mortals! ah! too late you'll find
What 'tis to hanter heaven, and laugh at hell;
To dress-up vice in false delusive charms,

And with gay colours paint her hideous face,
Leading befotted fouls through flowery paths,
In gaudy dreams and vain fantastic joys,
To difmal fcenes of everlasting woe;

When the great Ju dge fhall rear is awful throne,
And raging flames furround the trembling globe,
While the loud thunders roar from pole to pole,
And the last trump awakes the fleeping dead;
And guilty fouls to ghaftly bodies driven,

Within thofe dire eternal prifons fhut,

Expect their fad inexorable doom.

Say now, ye men of wit!

what turn of thought

Will please you then! Alas, how dull and poor,
Ev'n to yourselves, will your

lewd flights appear

How will you envy then the happy fate

Of idiots! and perhaps in vain you'll with,
You'd been as very fools as once you thought
Others, for the fublimeft wifdom scorn'd;
When pointed lightnings from the wrathful Judge
Shall finge your blighted laurels, and the men
Who thought they flew fo high, fhall fall fo low.
No more, my Mufe, of that tremendous thought:
Refume thy more delightful theme, and fing
Th' immortal man, that with immortal verfe
Rivals the hymns of angels, and like them
Defpifes mortal criticks' idle rules:

While the celeftial flame that warms thy foul
Infpires us, and with holy transports moves
Our labouring minds, and nobler fcenes prefents
Than all the Pagan Poets ever sung,

Homer, or Virgil; and far fweeter notes
Than Horace ever taught his founding lyre,
And purer far, though Martial's felf might feem
A modeft Poet in our Chriftian days.

May thofe forgotten and neglected lie,

No more let men be fond of fabulous Gods,
Nor Heathen wit debauch one Chriftian line,

While with the coarfe and daubing paint we hi le
The shining beauties of eternal truth,

That in her native dress appears moft bright,
And charms the eyes of angels.-Oh! like thee
Let every nobler genius tune his voice

To fubjects worthy of their towering thoughts.
Let Heaven and Anna then your tuneful art
Improve, and confecrate your deathless lays

To him who reigns above, and her who rules below.
April 17, 1706.

JOSEPH STANDEN.

To Mr. WATTS, on his Divine Poems.

AY, human feraph, whence that charming force,

SAY

That flame! that foul! which animates each line; And how it runs with fuch a graceful ease, Loaded with ponderous fenfe! Say, did not He, The lovely Jefus, who commands thy breaft, Infpire thee with himself? With Jefus dwells, Knit in mysterious bands, the Paraclete, The breath of God, the everlasting fource Of love: And what is love, in fouls like thine, But air, and incenfe to the poet's fire? Should an expiring faint, whofe fwimming eyes Mingle the images of things about him, But hear the leaft exalted of thy ftrains, How greedily he 'd drink the music in, Thinking his heavenly convoy waited near ! So great a ftrefs of powerful harmony,

Nature