Imágenes de páginas

her thunder aim'd at his aspiring head, and fain her godlike sons would disunite by foreign gold, or by domestic spite: but strives in vain to conquer or divide,

whom Nassau's arms defend and counsels guide. Fir'd with the name, which I so oft have found the distant climes and different tongues resound, I bridle-in my struggling muse with pain, that longs to launch into a bolder strain.

But I've already troubled you too long, nor dare attempt a more adventurous song. My humble verse demands a softer theme, a painted meadow, or a purling stream; unfit for heroes: whom immortal lays, and lines like Virgil's or like your's, should praise.


From life's superfluous cares enlarg'd
his debt of human toil discharg'd,
here Cowley lies! beneath this shed,
to every worldly interest dead;
with decent poverty content,
his hours of ease not idly spent;
to fortune's goods a foe profest,
and hating wealth by all carest.
'Tis true he's dead; for oh! how small
a spot of earth is now his all:

oh wish that earth may lightly lay,

and every care be fair away;

bring flowers; the short-liv'd roses bring,
to life deceas'd, fit offering;

and sweets around the poet strow,
whilst yet with life his ashes glow.


Performed at Oxford 1699.

1 Prepare the hallow'd strain, my Muse,

thy softest sounds and sweetest numbers chuşe; the bright Cecilia's praise rehearse,

in warbling words, and gliding verse,

that smoothly run into a song,

and gently die away, and melt upon the tongue.

2 First let the sprightly violin

the joyful melody begin,

And none of all her strings be mute,
while the sharp sound and shriller lay
in sweet harmonious notes decay,

soften'd and mellow'd by the flute.
* "The flute that sweetly can complain,
"dissolve the frozen nymph's disdain;
"panting sympathy impart,

"till she partake her lover's smart.”


3 Next, let the solemn organ join
religious airs, and strains divine,
such as may lift us to the skies,
and set all heaven before our eyes:
"such as may lift us to the skies;
so far at least till they

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"descend with kind surprize,

"and meet our pious harmony half-way." 4 Let then the trumpet's piercing sound our ravish'd ears with pleasure wound. the soul o'er powering with delight,

as, with a quick uncommon ray,

*The four last lines of the second and third stanzas were added by Mr. Tate.



a streak of lightning clears the day,
and flashes on the sight.
Let echo too perform her part,
prolonging every note with art,
and in a low expiring strain
play all the concert o'er again.

5 Such were the tuneful notes that hung
on bright Cecilia's charming tongue;
notes that sacred heats inspir'd,
and with religious ardour fir'd:
the love-sick youth, that long suppress'd
his smother'd passion in his breast,
no sooner heard the warbling dame,
but, by the secret influence turn'd,
he felt a new diviner flame,

and with devotion burn'd.
With ravish'd soul, and looks amaz'd,
upon her beauteous face he gaz'd;
nor made his amorous complaint:
in vain her eyes his heart had charm'd,
her heavenly voice her eyes disarm'd,
and chang'd the lover to a saint.


6 And now the choir compleat rejoices,
with trembling strings and melting voices,
the tuneful ferment rises high,

and works with mingled melody:
quick divisions run their rounds,
a thousand trills and quivering sounds
in airy circles o'er us fly,
till, wafted by a gentle breeze,
they faint and languish by degrees,
and at a distance die.


1 The spacious firmament on high, with all the blue ethereal sky,

and spangled heavens, a shining frame, their greal original proclaim.

Th' unweary'd sun, from day to day, does his Creator's power display; and publishes, to every land, the work of an Almighty hand. 2 Soon as the evening shades prevail, the moon takes up the wonderous tale; and nightly, to the listening earth, repeats the story of her birth:

whilst all the stars that round her burn, and all the planets, in their turn, confirm the tidings as they roll, and spread the truth from pole to pole. 3 What tho', in solemn silence, all move round the dark terrestrial ball; what tho', no real voice, nor sound, amidst their radiant orbs be found: in Reason's ear they all rejoice, and utter forth a glorious voice; for ever singing as they shine, the hand that made us is divine.


1 When all thy mercies, O my God,
my rising soul surveys,

transported with the view, I'm lost
in wonder, love, and praise.

No. 78.


2 O how shall words with equal warmth the gratitude declare,

that glows within my ravish'd heart!
but thou canst read it there.

3 Thy Providence my life sustain'd,
and all my wants redrest;
when in the silent womb I lay,
and hung upon the breast.

4 To all my weak complaints and cries,
thy mercy lent an ear,

ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
to form themselves in prayer.

5 Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
thy tender care bestow'd,
before my infant heart conceiv'd
from whence these comforts flow'd.
6 When in the slippery paths of youth
with heedless steps I ran,'

thine arm unseen convey'd me safe,
and led me up to man.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and death,
it gently clear'd my way;

and through the pleasing snares of vice,
more to be fear'd than they.

8 When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
with health renew'd my face;
and when in sins and sorrows sunk,
reviv'd my soul with grace.

9 Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
has made my cup run o'er,

and in a kind and faithful friend
hast doubled all my store.

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