BEA fenfe,

With thy harmonious excellence,
Thou best of human joys!
Have I not fought thy foothing pow'rs?
How oft has fancy pleas'd my hours,
With all your glitering toys?
Have I not, Sappho, felt thy Arains,
Run thrilling thro' my beating veins ?
Or, gaz'd at Pindar's flight?
Have I not glow'd at Shakespear's fire?
And heard the Handel, ftrike the lyre,
With exquifite delight?

Tell me, my heart, has Raphael's line,
Or Titian's hues and grace divine,

Ne'er thook thy tender frame? Or fay, has not fair Chloe's charms, Fill'd thee with fmiling love's alarms, And lighted up his flame!

Yes beauty, yes, I own thy fway;
if you command, I must obey;
Ufurper in my breaft!

Yet now, reflecting, irk fome thought.
Maintains, your joys are dearly bought
Nor priz'd when once poffeft.

The pleasure of the fprightly note,
How foon it tires! how foon forgot!
As foon the folemn air!

The mufe, oft toy'd with, cloys the minde
We read a fecond time, and find,

Her charms lefs foft, lefs fair.

Dear novelties alone impart,
Blith pleasure to the human heart;
Reftlefs, we thefe pursue:

Tir'd with the laft, we blame our fate,
Defpife the joy that pleas'd of late,
Then fly to catch the new.

.

And wilt thou, knowledge, tempting fruit). Engage me in a vain purfuit?

Why then I must confefs;

He who digs deep, the truth to know,
Opens a bitter fource of woe;

And fcience, is but guess.

Oft have I try'd, but try'd in vain,
And with'd for certainty to gain,

Still hid the object lies;
Something indeed draws on the mind;
We fearch-and by that fearching find,
Heav'n, here, the gem denies.

Just fo, with lofs of time and thought,
The treach'rous chymic-gold is fought,

A grand experiment!

Till tir'd, the fimple wretch, more wife,
Gives up the fhadowy fancy'd prize,

To mourn his treafures ipent.

But lo! where pleafure, foft, and young,
Join'd with the chorus, fkims along,

And strews the ground with flow'rs:
Or fee! where, with a wanton air,
Her treffes loofe, her bofo n bare,
She leads to Cupid's bow'rs.
Delufive blifs! grand cruel cheat!
Fruition does our hopes defeat:
Experience fays to all;

The goods to come may promife more,
But will, as thofe that went before,

Prove honey mixt with gall.
The beardlefs boy, by fancy led,
Spies on the mead a rain-bow fpread;

And feeks a nearer view:
But as he runs, he frets, and cries,
To fee the phantafm from him flie,
Yet tempts him to purfue.

Give

Give o'er Philander: once believe,
Life's blifs, and gaudy fhews, deceive;
Quit, quit, a fruitless race:
Whene'er we overtake the prey,
Th' ideal pleasure glides away,
And mocks our toilfome chace.

A THOUGHT AT MIDNIGHT.

WH

7HAT art thou, foolish mortal, say?
Vain wisher for the future day?
What's been amifs each night is feen,
But hope to-morrow will redeem.
To-morrow comes-and can't thou fay
It pafs'd not like the former day?
Why, inconfiderate, waste thy time?
Now, and now only, is thy prime :
The prefent minute-all befide
Of what awaits or may betide,

Is lodg'd with fate; why feek t'explore →→
Perhaps, this night thou art no more.
Supreme difpofer, O controul
This reftlefs paffion of the foul:
Let not procraftination ftill,
Pervert the prefent wish and will.

HENRIETTA.

TO THE EDITORS OF

THE NEW CHRISTIAN'S MAGAZINE.

1

Gentlemen,

IF you think the following lines worthy of a place in your valuable Magazine, your inferting them will be efteemed a favour. Yorkshire, June 19, 1783.

A

T. W.

WAKE, my eyes, behold the light, The morning light appears; Jehovah thews his matchlefs might, And turns the rolling fpheres. Lo, he commands the fun to rife, The chearful fun obeys; Difpels the darkness of the skies,

And thines with quick'ning rays..

The little birds with joyful notes,
Glad at the rifing day;

Mount up, and tune their warbling threats,
And thankful tributes pay.

And fhall I wafte these fhining hours,
In indolence and floth?

Awake, my foul, exert thy pow'rs
As ev'ry creature doth.

"Tis God thy morning mercy brings;
O bow before his throne !
Praife him for all his meaner things,
And praise him for his fon,

Jefus the morning star I'll blefs,

My tongue fhall fpeak his praife;
He is my fun of righteousness,
The guide of all my days.

Dear Saviour, let me love thee morej
And ferve thee better still;
O may my foul with ev'ry power,
Rejoice to do thy will.

THE PATRIOT's PRAYER,

ARENT of all, omnipotent

PAR

In heav'n and earth below;
Thro' all creation's bounds unfpent
Whofe ftreams of goodness flow.

Teach me to know from whence I rofe,
And unto what defign'd;
No private aims let me propofe,

Since link'd with human kind.

But chief to hear my country's voice,
May all my thoughts incline:
'Tis reafon's law, 'tis virtue's choice,
'Tis nature's call and thine.

Me from fair freedom's facred caufe,
Let nothing e'er divide;
Grandeur, nor gold, nor vain applause,
Nor friendship falfe mifguide.

Let me not faction's partial hate

Purfue to Britain's woe;

Nor grafp the thunder of the ftate,
To wound a private foe.

If, for the right, to with the wrong
My country fhould combine;
Single to ferve th' erroneous throng,
Spite of themfelves be mine.

GOODWOOD.

Such was Orlando's fate, mifguided youth! An early recreant from the paths of truth:

Bleft with the charms of figure and of mind,

He feem'd by nature form'd to grace mankind;

But loft to virtuous fenfe of honeft fame, He liv'd the fcandal of his race and name : Too high to curb, for counfel over nice, He took as impudence a friend's advice, Shunn'd all, his conduct who durft discommend,.

And thought, who flatter'd moft, his greatest friend:

Long riot reign'd with wild defpotic fway,
And fatal banquets kill'd the tedious day;
Debauch'd and ruin'd in a spendthrift's ftate,
He feels, unhappy wretch, a spendthrift's
fate!

Praise lately wont to charm his lift'ning ear,
Now yields to filence and the taunting fneer;
Late fam'd as patron for a generous board,
He feeks in turn a table and a Lord:
One only friend of all the num'rous clan,
One only friend was found, a virtuous man,
Philander call'd; a ferious folid youth,
Tho' born to grandeur, bred in honest truth;
With anguish oft Orlando's faults he'd fcan,
Oft blame his vices, yet care's the man:

But now no more the high fwol'n front appear'd,

No more the crew of midnight drunkards fcar'd;

Alone, deferted like the ftricken deer, Penfive he trod the gloomy wilds of care : Curft the falfe minions of his thining hour, And mourn'd his ruin'd name and wealthy pow'r.

Him fought Philander, and with gen'rous love,

Strove ev'ry manly fentiment to move;
To roufe his foul to thirft of virtuous fame,
By fenfe of honour loft, and mangled name;,
And happy victor in the noble ftrife,
Snatch'd him from fad defpair to joyous life!
No more to revel where mean riots reign,
Mo more companion to the loofe and vain,
But free to rove the focial feenes among,
Where fober virtue points the thoughtful
throng;

Where peace, content, and joy benignant fmile,

Each rough care foften, each wild woe be

Now Pleasure tempts with treach'rous smiles
Her dupes unpractis'd in her wiles;
Where'er we turn our wondring eyes
A thousand beauteous profpects rife;
The fields adorn'd with flow'rs look gay,
And smooth and pleasant feems our way:
The joyous birds in every grove
Tune their melodious throats to love;
A chearful fmile all nature wears,
And in her fairest robes appears:
But ah! not long thefe pleafures last,
Half of our journey foon is past;
Beneath the fun's meridian heat
Fatigu'd we faintly toil and fweat:
Thro' mazy ways, and gulphs profound
We pafs with dangers compafs'd round;
On flipp'ry paths uncertain tread;
And adverfe ftorms our courfe impede.
Now rifing mifts obfcure our way,
And erring, we at random ftray.
Anon, on fchemes of wealth intent
We climb Ambition's fteep afcent,
Above our fellow-trav❜llers rife,
And view them with difdainful eyes.
Approaching near our journey's end
Beneath a weight of cares we bend,
With tott'ring steps creep flowly on,
(Our former ftrength and vigour gone)
No longer warbling birds delight
The ear, or verdant plains the fight,
Groves please no more, unheeded now
Thro' flow'ry vales the rivers flow:
Of life the tirefome journey past,
We drop into the tomb at laft;
Great inn where all our forrows ceafe,
And kings with peasants reft in peace.
BARROW,

SHO

HOULD the whole art of growing numbers ftand,

Stars, thoughts, leaves, emmets, minutes, drops, and fand;

All matter, water, earth, fire, air and all
Paft, prefent, future, into attoms fall.
And all mankind that was, is, and to come,7
Angels, all creatures join to make the fum,
And count from the creation to the doom.
Ages,worlds,thousands,myriads millionize"
Fatigue conception; 'twill not all comprite
Thee, O Eternity!-Then, friend, be wide.
A LIST

ART. I. The Catechift; or, An Inquiry into the Doctrine of the Scriptures, concerning the only True God and Objet of relig ous Worship. By Theophilus Lindjey, A. M.

12mo.

T

HIS modern philofopher has carefully felected the plain texts of fcripture, and with much ingenuity accommodated thofe that are figurative to his own preadopted notions. There is no reafoning with fuch perfons, who take it for granted that all men are fools but themfelves. Mr. Lindsey, with a conceited air of fuperiority, affirms, that the antient doctrine of the human and divine natures in Chrift, is a mere fuppofition that has no countenance whatever in the facred writings. So much for Mr. Lindley's modefty. Nor can we fay much in favour either of the candour or, charity of that author, who would have his readers believe upon the credit of his own ipfe dixit, "That the doctrine of Chrift being poffeffed of two natures, is the fiction of ingenious men, determined at all events to believe Chrift to be a different being from what he really was, and uniformly declared himfelf to be; by which they folve fuch difficulties of fcripture as they cannot otherwife get over, and endeavour to prove him to be the most high God, in fpite of his own most exprefs and conftant declarations to the contrary." How exceeding rational, liberal, and candid, fuch affertion! Do hey not plainly difcover a debility of mind? Alas! poor Lindfey! We return thee that pity, which, though unfolicited, you beftow on others!

ART. II. The Nature and Circumftances of the Demoniacks in the Goffels, flated and methodized, and confidered in feveral Par-' ticulars. By Thomas Barker.

They who believe the exiftence of good and evil angels, are of opinion, that the Demoniacks mentioned in the gospels, were poffeffed and actuated by the latter: but others, with whom an opinion being popular, is a fufficient reafon of its absurdity, think, the Demoniacks were only what we call lunatics, or madmen, and by confequence deny the agency of fuperior powers. It did not belong to our Lord, fay they, as divine inftructor to correct the phyfical errors of the Jews, and therefore he ufed thir popular language when speaking of the actions of the madmen. Among the number of thefe we may fuppofe they reckoned

our Saviour himself, who is faid, according to the vulgar phrafeology on the subject of Demoniacks, to have been tempted of the devil, i. e. to have been a madman. Mr. Barker defends the common hypothefis; and having collected all the paffages in the facred writings into one collective point of view, with remarks upon the fame, has afforded the ferious enquirer a fair opportunity of inveftigating the fubject fully with propriety and precision.

ART. IH. A Sermon preached at the Anniver fary Meeting of the Sons of the Clergy, in the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, on Thurfday May 16, 1783. By William Jones, A. M. F. R. S.

This warm advocate for the temporal rights of the clergy, particularly in the matter of tithes, has very ably fupported their claims. His ingenious, animated, and acute obfervations are well deferving the attention of all thofe, who would deprive the labourers in our Lord's vineyard of their due reward.

ART. IV. An Efay on the Immutability of Meral Truth. By Catharine Macau y Gra bam, δυο. 6 .

We would advife Mrs. Macauly not to leave a fecond time her republican walk of politics. She would do well to hufband her little flock of reputation, which the wil in our opinion certainly lofe, by wandering in the intricate labyrinth of metaphyfics, and vainly attempting fubjects, to which her genius and education are by no means equal.

ART. V. Reflections on the State of the eftablifhd Religion, the Clergy, and the Univerfities; and the Means of improving them.

4to. 25.

It is very evident from his train of reafoning, and the authorities he quotes, that this is a fenfible, learned, and refpectable author; but it has juftly been obferved, "that all the fchemes of Prideaux, Burnet, Secker, and of this writer, will be defeated, if the livings in the gift of the bishops and laity are heaped upon thofe, whofe pretenfions folely depend on family or minifteriat intereft, while learning and probity, are only commended-pitied-and left to ftarve in obfcurity."

CHROL