Through fields of heavenly war, and feraphs overthrown,

Where his adventurous genius led: Sovereign fhe fram'd a model of her own,

Nor thank'd the living nor the dead.
The noble hater of degenerate rhyme

Shook off the chains, and built his verse fublime,
A monument too high for coupled founds to climb.
He mourn'd the garden loft below;
(Earth is the fcene for tuneful woe)
Now blifs beats high in all his veins,
Now the loft Eden he regains,

Keeps his own air, and triumphs in unrival'd ftrains.

Immortal bard! Thus thy own Raphael fings,
And knows no rule but native fire:

All heaven fits filent, while to his fovereign ftrings
He talks unutterable things;

With graces infinite his untaught fingers rove
Across the golden lyre :

From every note devotion springs.
Rapture, and harmony, and love,
O'erfpread the liftening choir.

To

To MR. NICHOLAS CLARK.

THE COMPLAINT.

"TWAS in a vale where ofiers grow

By murmuring streams we told our woe,
And mingled all our cares:

Friendship fat pleas'd in both our eyes,
In both the weeping dews arise,
And drop alternate tears.

The vigorous monarch of the day
Now mounting half his morning way
Shone with a fainter bright;
Still fickening, and decaying ftill,
Dimly he wander'd up the hill,
With his expiring light.

In dark eclipse his chariot roll'd,
The queen of night obfcur'd his gold
Behind her fable wheels;

Nature grew fad to lose the day,
The flowery vales in mourning lay,
In mourning ftood the hills.

Such are our forrows, Clark, I cry'd,
Clouds of the brain grow black, and hide

Our darken'd fouls behind;

In the young morning of our years
Distempering fogs have climb'd the spheres,
And choke the labouring mind.

VOL. LVI.

G

Lo,

Lo, the gay planet rears his head,
And overlooks the lofty fhade,

New-brightening all the skies:

But fay, dear partner of my moan,
When will our long eclipse be gone,
Or when our funs arife?

In vain are potent herbs apply'd,
Harmonious founds in vain have try'd
To make the darkness fly:

But drugs would raise the dead as soon,
Or clattering brass relieve the moon,
When fainting in the sky.

Some friendly spirit from above,

Born of the light, and nurst with love,
Affift our feebler fires:

Force these invading glooms away;
Souls fhould be feen quite through their clay,
Bright as your heavenly choirs.

But if the fogs must damp the flame,
Gently, kind death, diffolve our frame,
Release the prifoner-mind:

Our fouls fhall mount, at thy discharge,

To their bright fource, and fhine at large
Nor clouded, nor confin'd.

The

The AFFLICTIONS of a FRIEND.

N

OW let my cares all bury'd lie,

My griefs for ever dumb:

Your forrows fwell my heart fo high,

They leave my own no room.
Sickness and pains are quite forgot,
The spleen itself is gone;
Plung'd in your woes I feel them not,
Or feel them all in one.

Infinite grief puts sense to flight,
And all the foul invades :

So the broad gloom of spreading night
Devours the evening fhades.

Thus am I born to be unbleft!

This fympathy of woe

Drives my own tyrants from my breast
T'admit a foreign foe.

Sorrows in long fucceffion reign;

Their iron rod I feel:

Friendship has only chang'd the chain,
But I'm the prisoner still.

Why was this life for misery made?
Or why drawn out fo long?

Is there no room amongst the dead?

Or is a wretch too young?

G 2

1702.

Move

Move fafter on, great nature's wheel,

Be kind, ye rolling powers,
Hurl my days headlong down the hill
With undistinguish'd hours.

Be dusky, all my rifing funs,

Nor smile upon a slave:

Darkness, and death, make haste at once

To hide me in the grave.

The REVERSE: Or, The COMFORTS of a FRIEND.

HUS nature tun'd her mournful tongue,

ΤΗ Till grace lift up her head,

Revers'd the forrow and the song,
And, fmiling, thus fhe faid:

Were kindred fpirits born for cares?
Muft every grief be mine?

Is there a fympathy in tears,
Yet joys refufe to join?

Forbid it, heaven, and raise my love,
And make our joys the fame;

So blifs and friendship join'd above

Mix an immortal flame.

Sorrows are loft in vaft delight
That brightens all the foul,
As deluges of dawning light
O'erwhelm the dusky pole.

Pleafures