What, though I'm swallow'd in the deep? Nay, peace beyond, no small degree
Though mountains o'er me roar?

Of rapture 't will impart;
Jehovah reigns! as Jonah safe,

Know, ma lam! when your heart's in Heaven, I’m landed, and adore:

“ All Heaven is in your heart.” Thy will is welcome, let it wear

But who to Heaven their hearts can raise ? Its most tremendous form ;

Denied divine support,
Roar, waves; rage, winds! I know that thou All virtue dies; support divine
Caust save me by a storm.

The wise with ardour court :
From thee immortal spirits born,

When prayer partakes the seraph's fire, To thee, their fountain, low.

'Tis mounted on his wing, If wise; as curl'd around to theirs

Bursts through Heaven's crystal gates, and gains Meandering streams below:

Sure audience of its king : Not less compell’d by reason's call,

The labouring soul from sore distress To thee our souls aspire,

That bless'd expedient frees; Than to thy skies, by Nature's law,

I see you far advanc'd in peace ; High mounts material fire;

I see you on your knees:

How on that posture has the beam To thee aspiring they exult,

Divine for ever shone ! I feel my spirits rise,

An humble heart, God's other seat 10 ! I feel myself thy son, and pant

The rival of his throne : For patrimonial skies;

Avd stoops Omnipotence so low ! Since ardent thirst of future good,

And condescends to dwell, And generous sense of past,

Eternity's inhabitant, To thee man's prudence strongly ties,

Well pleas'd, in such a cell ? And binds affection fast;

Such honour how shall we repay? Since great thy love, and great our want,

How treat our guest divine ? And men the wisest blind,

The sacrifice supreme be slain ! And bliss our aim; pronounce us all

Let self-will die: resign. Distracted, or resign'd;

Thus far, at large, on our disease; Resign'd through duty, interest, shame;

Now let the cause be shown, Deep shame! dare I complain,

Whence rises, and will ever rise, When (wondrous truth!) in Heaven itself

The dismal human groan: Joy ow'd its birth to pain?

What our sole fountain of distress? And pain for me! for me was drain'd

Strong passion for this scene;

That trifles make important, things
Gall's overflowing bowl;

Of mighty moment mean :
And shall one drop to murmur bold
Provoke my guilty soul?

When Earth's dark maxims poison shed

On our polluted souls, If pardon'd this, what cause, what crime

Our hearts and interests fly as far Can indignation raise?

Asunder, as the poles; The Sun was lighted up to shine,

Like princes in a cottage nurs'd, And man was born to praise ;

Unknown their royal race, And when to praise the man shall cease,

With abject aims, and sordid joys, Or Sun to strike the view;

Our grandeur we disgrace; A cloud dishonours both; but man's

O! for an Archimedes new, The blacker of the two:

Of moral powers possess'd, For oh! ingratitude how black !

The world to move, and quite expel With most profound amaze

That traitor from the breast. At love, which man belov'd o'erlooks,

No small advantage may be reap'd Astonish'd angels gaze.

From thought whence we descend ; Praise cheers, and warms, like generous wine; From weighing well, and prizing weigh'd Praise, more divine than prayer;

Our origin, and end : Prayer points our ready path to Heaven;

From far above the glorious Sun Praise is already there,

To this dim scene we came : Let plausive resignation rise,

And may, if wise, for ever bask And banish all complaint;

In great Jehovah's beam: All virtues thronging into one,

Let that brigln beam on reason rousid It finishes the saint;

In aweful lustre risc, Makes the man bless'd, as man can be ;

Earth's giant-ills are dwarf'd at once,
Life's labours renders light;

And all disquiet dies.
Darts beams through fate's incumbent gloom, Earth's glories too their splendour lose,
And lights cu: Sun by night;

Those phantoms charm no more ; 'Tis Nature's brightest ornament,

Empire's a feather for a fool,
The richest gilt of grace,

And Indian mines are poor :
Rival of angels, and supreme
Proprietor of peace;

16 Isaiah lvii. 15.

1

Then levell d quite, whilst yet alive,

Though vice by no superior joys The monarch and his slave;

Her heroes keeps in pay ; Not wait enlighten'd minds to learn

Through pure disinterested love 'That lesson from the grave:

Of ruin they obey ! A George the Third would then be low

Strict their devotion to the wrong, As Lewis in renown,

Though tempted by no prize; Could he not boast of glory more

Hard their commandments, and their creed Than sparkles from a crown.

A magazine of lyes When human glory rises high

From fancy's forge: gay fancy smiles As huinan glory can;

At reason plain, and cool; When, though the king is truly great,

Fancy, whose curious trade it is Still greater is the man;

To make the finest fool. The man is dead, where virtue fails;

Voltaire ! long life's the greatest curse And though the monarch proud

That mortals can receive, In grandeur shines, his gorgeous robe

When they imagine the chief end Is but a gaudy shroud.

Of living is to live; Wisdom! where art thou? None on Earth,

Quite thoughtless of their day of death,
Though grasping wealth, fame, power,

That birth-day of their sorrow!
But what, O Death! through th:y approach, Knowing, it may be distant far,
Is wiser every bour;

Nor crush them till-to morrow.
Approach how swift, how unconsin'd!

These are cold, northern thoughts, conceir'd Worms feast on viands rare,

Beneath an humble cot; Those little epicures have kings

Not mine, your genius, or your state, To grace their bill of fare :

No castle is my lotil, From kings what resignation due

But soon, quite level shall we lie; To that almighty will,

And, what pride most bemoans, Which thrones bestows, and, when they fail, Our parts, in rank so distant now, Can throne them higher still !

As level as our bones; Who truly great ? The good and brave,

Hear you that sound? Alarming sound ! The masters of a mind

Prepare to meet your fate! The will divine to do resolv’d,

One, who writes finis to our works, To sutser it resign'd.

Is knocking at the gate; Madam ! if that may give it weight,

Far other works will soon be weigh'd; The trifle you receive

Far other judges sit; Is dated from a solemn scene,

Far other crowns be lost or won, The border of the grave;

'Than fire ambitious wit : Where strongly strikes the trembling soul Eternity's dread power,

Their wit far brightest will be prov'd,

Who sunk it in good sense;
As bursting on it through the thin
Partition of an hour;

And veneration most profound

Of dread Omnipotence.
Hear this, Voltaire ! but this, from me,
Runs bazard of your frown;

'Tis that alone unlocks the gate However, spare it; ere you die

Of blest eternity; Such thoughts will be your own.

0! mayst thou never, never lose

That more than golden key 12!
In mercy to yourself forbear
My notions to chastise,

Whate'er may seem too rough excuse,
Lest unawares the gay Voltaire

Your good I have at heart : Should blame Voltaire the wise :

Since from my soul I wish you well; Fame's trumpet rattling in your ear,

As yet we must not part: Now, makes us disagree;

Shall you, and I, in love with life, When a far louder truinpet sounds,

Life's future schemes contrive, Voltaire will close with me :

The world in wonder not unjust, How shocking is that modesty,

That we are still alive? Which keeps some honest men

What have we left? How mean in man From urging what their hearts suggest,

A shadow's shade to crare! When brav'd by folly's pen

When life, so vain! is vainer still, Assaulting truths, of which in all

"Tis time to take your leave : Is sown the sacred seed!

Happier, than happiest life, is death, Our constitution's orthodox,

Who falling in the field And closes with our creed :

Of couflict with his rebel will,
What then are they, whose proud conceits

Writes vici, on his shield;
Superior wisdom boast?
Wretches, who fight their own belief,

11 Letter to lord Lyttelton. And labour to be lost!

1? Alluding to Prussia.

So falling man, immortal heir

Madam ! self-will inflicts your pains : Of an eternal prize ;

Self-will's the deadly foe Undaunted at the gloomy grave,

Which deepens all the dismal shades, Descends into the skies.

And points the shafts of woe : O! how disorder'd our machine,

Your debt to nature fully paid, When contradictions mix!

Now virtue claims her due : When Nature strikes no less than twelve,

But virtue's cause I need not plead, And foily points at six !

'Tis safe; I write to you : To mend the moments of your heart,

You know, that virtue's basis lics How great is my delight

In ever judging right; Gently to wind your morals rip,

And wiping erronr's clouds away, And set your hand aright!

Which dim the mental sight : That hand, which spread your wisdom wide

Why mourn the dead? you wrong the grave,

From storm that safe resort ;
To poison distant lands:
Repent, recant; the tainted age

We are still tossing out at sea,
Your antidote demands;

Our admiral in port.

Was death denied, this world, a scene To Satan dreadfully resign'd,

How dismal and forlorn ! Whole herds rush down the steep

To death we owe, that 't is to man Of folly, by lewd wits possess'd,

A blessing to be born; And perish in the deep.

When every other blessing fails, Men's praise your vanity pursues ;

Or sapp'd by slow decay, "Tis well, pursue it still ;

Or, storin'd by sudden blasts of sate, But let it be of men deceas'd,

Is swiftly wbirl'd away; And you ’ll resign the will ;

How happy! that no storm, or time, And how superior they to those

Of death can rob the just! At whose applause you aim;

None pluck from their unaching heads How very far superior they

Soft pillows in the dust! In number, and in name!

Well pleas'd to bear Heaven's darkest frown,

Your utmost power employ;

'Tis noble chemistry to turn POSTSCRIPT.

Necessity to joy. Tms have I written, when to write

Whate'er the colour of my fate, No mortal should presume;

My fate shall be my choice : Or only write, what none can blame,

Determin’d am I, whilst I breathe, Hic jacet-for his tomb :

To praise and to rejoice; The public frowns, and censures loud

What ample cause ! triumphant hope ! My puerile employ;

O rich eternity! Though just the censure, if you smile,

I start not at a world in flames, The scandal I enjoy ;

Charm'd with one glimpse of thee: But sing no more—no more I sing

And thou! its great inbabitant! Or reassume the lyre,

How glorious dost thou shine! Unless vouchsaf'd an humble part

And dårt through sorrow, danger, death, Where Raphael leads the choir:

A beam of joy divine ! What inyriads swell the concert loud !

The void of joy (with some concern Their golden harps resound

The truth severe I tell) High, as the footstool of the throne,

Is an impenitent in guilt, And deep, as Hell profound :

A fool or infidel! Hell (horrid contrast !) chord and song

Weigh this, ve pupils of Voltaire ! Of raptur'd angels drowns

From joyless murmur free; In self-will's peal of blasphemies,

Or, let us know, which character And hideous burst of groans ;

Shall crown you of the three. But drowns them not to me; I hear

Resign, resign : this lesson none Harmonious thunders roll

Too deeply can instill ; (In language low of men to speak)

A crown has been resign'd by more, From echoing pole to pole!

Than have resign'd the will; Whilst this grand chorus shakes the skies Though will resign'd the meanest makes “ Above, bencath the Sun,

Superior in renown, Through boundless age, by men, by gods,

And richer in celestial eyes, Jehovah's will be done!”

Than he who wears a crown; "Tis done in Heaven; whence headlong hurl'd Hence, in the bosom cold of age, Self-will with Satan fell;

It kindled a strange aim And must from Earth be banish'd too,

To shine in song; and bid me boast Dr Earth's anyther Hell;

The grandeur of my theme :

But oh! how far presumption falls

Then shining forth, when deepest shades shall blot Its lofty theme below!

The Sun's bright orb, and Cato be forgot. Our thoughts in life's December freeze,

I sing—but ah! my there I need not tell, And numbers cease to flow.

See every eye with conscious sorrow swell: First! greatest! best! grant what I wrote

Who now to verse would raise his humble voice, For others, ne'er may rise

(an only show bis duty, not his choice. To brand the writer! thou alone

How great the weight of grief our hearts sustain ! Caost make our wisdom wise;

We languish, and to speak is to complain.

Let us look back, (for who too oft can view And how unwise ! how deep in guilt!

That most illustrious scene, for ever new !) How infamous thc fault!

See all the sea-ons shine on Anna's throne, " A teacher thron’d in pomp of words,

And pay a constant tribute, not their own. lodeed, beneath the taught!”

Her summer's heats nor fruits alone bestow,

They reap the harvest, and subdue the foe; Means most infallible to make

And when black storis confess the distant Sud, The world an infidel;

Her winters wear the wreaths her summers won. And, with instructions mest divine,

Revolving pleasures in tbeir turns appear, To pare a path to Hell;

And triumphs are the product of the year. O! for a clean and ardcnt heart,

To crown the whole, great joys in greater cease, O! for a soul on fire,

And glorious victory is lost in peace. Thy praise, bezun on Earth, to sound

Whence this profusion on our favourd isle ? Where angels string the lyre;

Did partial fortune on our virtue smile? How cold is man! to him how hard

Or did the scep re, in great Anna's hand, (Hard, what not easy sceins)

Stretch forth this rich indulgence o'er our land? " To set a just estecm on that,

Ungrateful Britain ! quit thy groundless claiin, Which yet he-most esteenus !”

Thy queen and thy good fortune are the same.

Hlear, with alarms our trumpets fill the sky; What shall we say, when boundless bliss

'Tis Anna reigns! the Gallic squadrons fy. Is offer'd to mankind,

We spread our canvass to the southern sbore ; And to that ofler when a race

'Tis Anna reigns! the South resigns her store. Of rationals is blind?

Her virtue smooths the tumult of the main, Of human nature ne'er too high

and swells the field uith mountains of the slain. Are our ideas wrought;

Argyll and Churchill bit the glory share, Of human merit ne'er too low

While millions lie subdued by Anna's prayer. Depress'd the daring thought.

How great her zeal! how fervent her desire !
llow did her soul in holy warmth expire!
Constant derotion did her time divide,

Not set returns of pleasure or of pride.
ON THE LATE QUEEN'S DEATH,

Not want of rest, or the Sun's parting ray,

But finishid duty, limited the day.
HIS MAJESTY'S ACCESSION TO THE How sheet succeeding sleep! what lovely themes

Smil'd in ber thoughts, and soften'd all her dreams!
THRONE.

Her royal conch descinding angels spread,
INSCRIBED TO JOSEPH ADDISON, ESQ. SECRETARY TO And join'd their wings a shelter o'er her head.

Though Lurope's wealth and glory claim'd a part,

Religion's cause re go'd mistress of her heart:
-Gaudia Curis.

HOR. She saw, and griev'd to see, the mean estate

Of those who round the hallow'd altar wait;
Sir, I hare long, and with impatience, sought, She shed her bounty, piously profuse,
To case the fullness of my grateful thought, And thought it more her own in sacred use.
My fame at once, and duty to pursue,

Thus on his forrow see the tiller stand,
Avd please the public, by respect to you.

And fill with genial secd his lavish hand;
Thuagh you, long since beyond Britannia known, ile trusts the kindness of the fruitful plain,
Have spread your country's glory with your own; And providently scatters all his grain.
'lo me you never did more lovely shine,

What strikes my sight? does proud Augusta rise
Than when so late the kindled wrath divice New to behold, and awefully surprise !
Quench'd our ambition, in great Anna's fate, Her lofty brow more numerous turrets crown,
And darken'd all the pornp of human state, And sacred domes on palaces look down :
Though you are rich in tame, and fame decay, A noble pride of piety is shown,
Though rais'd in life, and greatness fade away, And temples cast a lustre on the throne.
Your lustre brighteps: virtue cuts the gloom How would this work another's glory raise !
With purer rays, and sparkles near a tomb. But Anna's greatness rubs her of the praise.

Know, sir, the great esteem and honour due, Drown'd in a brighter blaze it disappears, I chose that moment to profess to you,

Who dry'd the widow's and the orphau's tears?
When sadness reign'd, rhen fortune, so severe, Who stoop'd from high to succour the distrest,
Had warned our borsoms to be most sjucere.

And reconcile the wounded heart to rest ?
And when no motivos could have force to raise Great in her goodness, well could we perceive,
A serious value, and proroke my praise,

Whoever sought, it was a queen that gave.
But such as rise above, and far transcend

Misfortune lost her name, her guiltless frown Vi hatever glories with this world shall end,

But made another debtor to the town;

AND

THEIR EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES.

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