There on the wing a guard of cherubs lies,
Each waves a keen flame as he flies,

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And well defends the walls from fieges and furprife. III.

With pleafing rev'rence I behold

The pearly portals wide unfold:

Enter, my foul! and view th' amazing scenes;

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The laws forbid the ftranger pain,
And banish ev'ry care.

IV.

See how the bubbling springs of love
Beneath the throne arife!

The streams in crystal channels move,
Around the golden streets they rove,
And blefs the manfions of the upper skies.
There a fair grove of knowledge grows,
Nor fin nor death infects the fruit,
Young life hangs fresh on all the boughs.
And fprings from ev'ry root;

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Here may thy greedy fenfes feast

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While ecstasy and health attends on ev'ry tafte.
With the fair prospect charm'd I stood,

Fearless I feed on the delicious fare,

And drink profuse falvation from the filver flood,
Nor can excefs be there.

V.

In facred order rang'd along

Saints, new releas'd by death,

Join the bold feraphs' warbling breath,
And aid th' immortal fong:

Each has a voice that tunes his ftrings
To mighty founds and mighty things,
Things of everlasting weight,
Sounds like the fofter viol fweet,

And like the trumpet strong.
Divine attention held my foul;

I was all car;

Thro' all my pow'rs the heav'nly accents roll:

I long'd and wifh'd my Bradb'ry there:

"Could he but hear thefe notes," I faid,.

"His tuneful foul would never bear

"The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread,

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But burst the vital chords to reach the happy dead."

VI.

And now my tongue prepares to join

The harmony, and with a noble aim

Attempts th' unutterable Name,

But faints, confounded by the notes divine.

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Again my foul th' unequal honour fought,

Again her utmost force she brought,

[thought.

And bow'd beneath the burden of th' unwieldy
Thrice I effay'd and fainted thrice;

Th' immortal labour flrain'd my feeble frame,
Broke the bright vision and diffolv'd the dream;
I funk at once and loft the skies:

In vain I fought the fcenes of light,
Rolling abroad my longing eyes,

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For all around 'em food my curtains and the night.

Strict religion very rare.

I.

I'm borne aloft and leave the crowd,

I fail upon a morning cloud

Skirted with dawning gold;

Mine eyes beneath the op'ning day

Command the globe with wide furvey,

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Where ants in bufy millions play

And tug and heave the mould.

JI.

"Are these the things," my Paffion cry'd,
"That we call Men? are these ally'd
"To the fair worlds of light?

'They 'ave rased out their Maker's name
"Grav'n on their minds with pointed flame
"In ftrokes divinely bright.

ΙΟ

III.

"Wretches! they hate their native skies;

"If an ethereal thought arise

"Or spark of virtue fhine,

"With cruel force they damp its plumes,

"Choke the young fire with fenfual fumes, "With bus'nefs, luft, or wine.

IV.

"Lo! how they throng with panting breath "The broad defcending road

"That leads unerring down to death,

"Nor mifs the dark abode."

Thus while I drop a tear or two

On the wild herd, a noble few
Dare to ftray upward and purfue
Th' unbeaten way to God.
V.

I meet Myrtillo mounting high,
I know his candid foul afar;
Here Dorylus and Thyrfis fly,
Each like a rifing star;

Charin I faw and Fidea there,

I faw them help each other's flight,
And bless them as they go;

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They foar beyond my lab'ring fight,

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And leave their loads of mortal care,

But not their love below.

On heav'n, their home, they fix their eyes,

The temple of their God;

With morning incense up they rife

Sublime, and thro' the lower fkies

Spread the perfumes abroad.

VI..

Across the road a feraph flew ;
"Mark," said he, " that happy pair,
"Marriage helps devotion there;
"When kindred minds their God pursue
"They break with double vigour thro'
"The dull incumbent air."

Charm'd with the pleasure and surprise

My foul adores, and fings

"Blefs'd be the Pow'r that fprings their flight, "That streaks their path with heav'nly light, "That turns their love to facrifice,

“And joins their zeal forwings!"

To Mr. C. and S. Fleetwood.

I.

FLEETWOODS, young gen'rous pair!
Despise the joys that fools pursue;
Bubbles are light and brittle too,
Born of the water and the air.
Try'd by a standard bold and juft,

Honour, and gold, and paint, and dust,

How vile the last is, and as vain the first!

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