But whilft in floods our forrow rolls, And drops of joy are few, This dear delight of mingling fouls Oh! why should blifs depart in hafte, Yet never let our hearts divide, Nor death diffolve the chain : For love and joy were once ally'd, To NATHANAEL GOULD, Efq. afterwards Sir NATHANAEL GOUL D. "TIS not by fplendor, or by state, My Mufe takes measures of a king: A more majeftic thing. Frown on me, friend, if e'er I boaft 1704. Let Let the vain world falute me loud, My thoughts look inward, and forget When Gould commands his fhips to run And bears the western mines away, For well the happy merchant knows But trust me, Gould, 'tis lawful pride Of flesh and sense, to which we're ty'd; This is ambition that becomes a foul. We steer our course up through the skies; We ken the heavenly fhore with longing eyes, * Member of parliament for a port in Suffex. Το To DR. THOMAS GIBSON. THE LIFE OF SOULS. 1704 WIFT as the fun revolves the day SWIFT We haften to the dead, Slaves to the wind we puff away, And to the ground we tread. 'Tis air that lends us life, when first The vital bellows heave: Our flesh we borrow of the duft; And when a mother's care has nurft The babe to manly fize, we must Rich juleps drawn from precious ore And plants, and roots, of barbarous name, Thus we fupport our tottering flesh, Our cheeks resume the rose afresh, And Gibson, with his awful power, From the demands of death. But But art and nature, powers and charms, I'd have a life to call my own, That shall depend on heaven alone; Mix their bafe effences with mine, To give me leave to Be. Sure there's a mind within, that reigns Let earth refume the flesh it gave, And breath diffolve amongst the winds We claim acquaintance with the skies, And there our thoughts employ: ; When heaven shall fign our grand release, FALSE MY FALSE GREATNESS. YLO, forbear to call him bleft He fwells amidst his wealthy ftore, He spreads the balance wide to hold And cheats the beam with loads of gold So might the plough-boy climb a tree, To think that thape their own! Thus |