Say, my Urania, how the western Sun

Anon our thoughts should lower their lofty fight, Broke from black clouds, and in full glory shone Sink by degrees, and take a pleasing sight, Gilding the roof, then dropp'd into the sea, A large round prospect of the spreading plain, And sudden night devour'd the sweet reinains of The wealthy river and his winding train, day :

The smoky city and the busy men. Thus the bright youth just rear'd his shining head How we should smile to see degenerate worms From obscure shades of life, and sunk among the Lavish their lives, and fight for airy forms The rising Sun adorn’d with all his light [dead. Of painted Honour, dreams of empty sound, Smiles on these walls again : but endless Night Till Enry rise, and shoot a second wound Reigns uncontrol'd where the dear Gunston lies; At swelling Glory : straight the bubble breaks, He's set for ever, and must never rise,

And the scenes vanish, as the man awakes; Then why these beams, unseasonable star,

Then the tall titles insolent and proud These lightsome smiles descending from afar, Sink to the dust, and mingle with the crowd. To greet a mourning housc? In vain the day Breaks through the windows with a joyful ray,

Man is a restless thing: still vain and wild, And inarks a shining path along the floors,

Lives beyond sixty, por outgrows the child: Bounding the evening and the morning hours;

His hurrying lusts still break the sacred bound In vain it bounds them: while vast emptiness

To seek new pleasures on forbidden ground, And hollow silence reign through all the place,

And buy them all too dear. Unthinking fool, Norheed the cheerful change of Nature's face.

For a short dying joy to sell a deathless soul! Yet Nature's wheels will on without control,

"Tis but a grain of sweetness they can sow, The Sun will rise, the tuneful spheres will roll,

And reap the long sad harvest of immortal woe. And the two mighty Bears walk round and watch Another tribe toil in a different strife, the pole.

And banish all the law ful sweets of life,

To sweat and dig for gold, to board the ore,
See while I speak, high on her sable wheel
Old Night advancing climbs the eastern hin:

Hide the dear dust yet darker than before,

And never dare to use a grain of all the store. Troops of dark clouds prepare her way; behold Hor their brown pinions edg'd with evening gold Happy the man that knows the value just Spread shadowing o'er the house, and glide away, Of carthly things, nor is enslar'd to dust. Slowly pursuing the declining day;

"Tis a rich gift the skies but rarely send O'er the broad roof they Ay their circuit still, To favourite souls. Then happy thou, my friend, Thus days before they did, and days to come

For thou hadst learnt to manage and command they will;

Thewealth that Ilearen bestow'd with liberal hand: But the black cloud that shadows o'er his eyes, llence this fair structure rose; and hence this seat Hangs there unmoveable, and never flies :

Made to invite my not unwilling feet : Fain would I bid the envious gloom be gone;

In vain 'twas made! for we shall never meet, Ah fruitless wish! how are his curtains drawn And smile, and love, and bless each other here: For a long evening that despairs the dawn! The envious Tomb forbids thy face t appear, Muse, view the turret: just beneath the skies

Detains thee, Gunston, from my longing eyes, Lonesome it stands, and fixes my sad eyes,

And all my hopes lie buried, whiere my Gunston As it would ask a tear. O sacred seat,

lies. Sacred to Friendship! () divine retreat!

Come hither, all ye tenderest souls, that know Here did I hope my happy hours temploy, The heights of fondness and the depths of woe; And fed before-hand on the promis d joy,

Young mothers, who your darling babes have When weary of the noisy town, my friend

found From mortal cares retiring, should ascend

Untimely murder'd with a ghastly wound; And lead me thither. We alone would sit Ye frighted nymphs, who on the bridal bed Free and secure of all intruding feet: [rise, Clasp'd in your arms your lorers cold and dead; Our thoughts would stretch their longest wings, and Coine, in the pomp of all your wild despair, Xor bound their soarings by the lower skies: With fouing eye-lids and disorder'd hair, Our tongues should aim at everlasting themes, Death in your looks; come, iningle grief with me, And speak what mortals dare, of all the pames And drown your little streams in my unbounded Of boundless joys and glories, thrones and seats

sea. Built high in Heaven for souls: we'd trace the

You sacred mourners of a nobler mould, streets

Porn for a friend, whose dear embraces hold Of golden parement, walk each blissful field, And climb and taste the fruits the spicy moun

Beyond all Nature's ties; you that have known tains yield;

Two happy souls made intimately one, Then would we swear to keep the sacred road,

And felt a parting stroke: 'tis you must tell

The smart, the twinges, and the racks I feel : And walk right upwards to that blest abode:

Tbis soul of mine that dreadful wound has borne, We'd charge our parting spirits there to meet,

Off from its side its dearest half is torn, There hand in hand approach th’ Almighty seat,

The rest lies bleeding, and but lives to mourn. And bend our heads adoring at our Maker's feet. Thus should we mount on bold adventurous Should command pity, and despair relief.

Oh infinite distress! such raging grief wings In high discourse, and dwell on heavenly things,

Passion, methinks, should rise from all my groans, While the pleas'd hours in sweet succession move,

Give sense to rocks, and sympathy to stones. And minutes measur'd as they are above,

Ye dusky woods and echoing hills around, By ever-circling joys and ever-shining love. Repeat my cries with a perpetual sound:

Be, all ye flowery vales, with thors o'ergrown, Partners in bliss. Sweet luxury of the mind! Assist my sorrows, and declare your own;

And sweet the aids of sense' Each ruder wind Alas! your lord is dead. The humble plain Slept in its caverns, while an evening breeze Must ne'er receive his courteous feet again : Fann'd the leaves gently, sporting through the treesa Mourn, ye gay smiling meadows, and be seen The linnet and the lark their vespers sung, In wintery robes, instead of youthful green; And clouds of crimson o'er th' horizon bung; And bid the brook, that still runs warbling by, The slow-declining Sun with sloping wheels Move silent on, and weep his useless channel dry. Sunk down the golden day behind the western hills, Hither, methinks, the lowing herd should come, And moaning turtles murmur o'er his tomb:

Mourn, then, ye gardens, ye unfinish'd gates, The oak shall wither, and the curling vine

Ye green enclosures, and ye growing sweets, Weep his young life out, while his arms untwine

Lament; for ye our midnight hours have knowl, Their amorous folds, and mix his bleeding soul

And watch'd us walking by the silent Moon with mine.

In conference divine, while heavenly fire Ye stately elms, in your long order mourn?;

Kindling our breasts did all our thoughts inspire Strip off your pride, to dress your master's urn:

With joys almost immortal; then our zeal Here gently drop your leaves instead of tears :

Blaz'd and burnt high to reach th' ethereal hill, Ye elms, the reverend growth of ancient years,

And love refin'd, like that above the poles, Stand tall and naked to the blust'ring rage

Threw both our arms round one another's souls Of the mad winds; thus it becomes your age

In rapture and embraces. Ob forbear, To show your sorrows. Often ye bave seen

Forbear, my song! this is too much to hear, Our heads reclin'd upon the rising green;

Too dreadful to repeat; such joys as these

Fled from the Earth for ever !Beneath your sacred shade diffus'd we lay, Here Friendship reign'd with an unbounded sway; Oh for a general grief! Let all things share Hither our souls their constant offerings brought, Our woes, that knew our loves: the neighbouring air The burthens of the breast, and labours of the Let it be laden with immortal sighs, thought;

And tell the gales, that every breath that flies Our opening bosoms on the conscious ground

Over these fields should murmur and complain, Spread all the sorrows and the joys we found,

And kiss the fading grass, and propagate the pain. And mingled every care; nor was it known

Weep, all ye buildings, and, the groves arouad, Which of the pains and pleasures were our own;

For ever weep: this is an endless wound, Then with an equal hand and honest soul

Vast and incurable. Ye buildings knew M'e share the heap, vet both possess the whole, His silver tongne, ye groves have heard it too: And all the passions there through both our bo- At that dear sound no more shall ye rejoice, soms roll.

And I no more must hear the charming voice: By turns we comfort, and by turns complain,

Woe to my drooping soul! that heavenly breath, And bear and ease by turns the sympathy of pain. That could speak life, lies now congeal'd in death;

Friendship! mysterious thing, what magic powers While on bis folded lips all cold and pale Support thy sway, and charm these minds of ours? Eternal chains and heavy silence dwell. Bound to thy foot we boast our birth-right still,

Yet my fond hope would hear him speak again, And dream of freedom, when we've lost our will, Once more at least, one gentle word, and then And chang'd away our souls: at thy command, Gunston aloud I call. In vain I cry We snatch new miseries from a foreign hand,

Gunston aloud; for he must ne'er reply. To call them ours; and, thoughtless of our ease,

In vain I mourn, and drop these funeral tears, Plague the dear self that we were born to please. Death and the Grave have neither eyes por ears : Thou tyranness of minds, whose cruel throne

Wandering I tune my sorrows to the groves, Heaps on poor mortals sorrows not their own;

And vent my swelling griefs, and tell the winds As though our mother Nature could no more

our loves; Find woes sufficient for each son she bore,

While the dear youth sleeps fast, and hears them Friendship divides the shares, and lengthens out not; the store,

He hath forgot me: in the lonesome vault, Yet we are fond of thive imperious reign,

Mindless of Watts and Friendship, cold he lies, Proud of thy slavery, wanton in our pain,

Deaf and unthinking clay.And chide the courteous hand when Death dissolves the chain.

But whither am I led? This artless grief

Hurries the Muse on, obstinate and deaf Virtue, forgive the thought! the raving Muse, To all the nicer rules, and bears her down Wild and despairing, knows not what she does, From the tall fabric to the neighbouring ground: Grows mad in grief, and in her savage hours The pleasing hours, the happy moments past Affronts the name she loves and she adores. In these sweet fields, reviving on my taste, She is thy votaress too; and at thy shrine,

Snatch me away resistless with impetuous haste, () sacred Friendship! offer'd songs divine While Gunston liv'd, and both our souls were thine. And reach the turret thou hast left so long:

Spread thy strong pinions once again, my song, Here to these shades at solemn hours we came,

O'er the wide roof its lofty head it rears, To pay devotion with a mutual flame,

Long waiting our converse; but only hears

The noisy tumults of the realms on high; ? There was a long row of tall elms then stand- | The winds salute it whistling as they fly, ing where some years after the lower garden was Or jarring round the windows; rattling showers made.

Lash the fair sides; above, loud thunder roars;


But still the master sleeps ; nor hears the voice
Of sacred Friendship, nor the tempest's noise :
An iron slumber sits on every sense, (thence. THE REVEREND MR. THOMAS GOUGE,
In vain the heavenly thunders strive to rouse it

Who died Jan. 8th, 1699-1700,
One labour more, my Muse, the golden sphere
Seems to demand. See through the dusky air

Ye virgin souls, whose sweet complaint
Downward it shines upon the rising Moon;

Could teach Euphrates' not to flow, And, as she labours up to reach her noon,

Could Sion's ruin so divinely paint, Pursues her orb with repercussive light,

Array'd in beauty and in woe: And streaming gold repays the paler beams of night: Awake, ye virgin souls, to mourn, [urn But not one ray can reach the darksome grave,

And with your tuneful sorrows dress a prophet's Or pierce the solid gloom that fills the cave

O could my lips or flowing eyes Where Gunston dwells in death. Behold it flames

But imitate such charming grief, Like some new meteor with diffusive beams

I'd teach the seas, and teach the skies, Through the mid-heaven, and overcomes the stars;

Wailings, and sobs, and sympathies : “ So shines thy Gunston's soul above the spheres,”

Nor should the stones or rocks be deaf; Raphael replies, and wipes away my tears.

Rocks shall have eyes, and stones have ears, « We saw the flesh sink down with closing eyes,

While Gouge's death is mourn’d in melody and We heard thy grief shriek out, He dies, He dies.

Mistaken grief! to call the flesh the friend! Heaven was impatient of our crimes,
On our fair wings did the bright youth ascend, And sent his minister of Death
All Heaven embrac'd him with immortal love,

To scourge the bold rebellion of the times,
And sung bis welcome to the courts above. And to demand our prophet's breath;
Gentle Ithuriel led him round the skies,

He came commission'd for the Fates The buildings struck him with immense surprise;

Of awful Mead, and charming Bates; The spires all radiant and the mansions bright,

There he essay'd the vengeance first, (to dust. The roof high-vaulted with ethereal light:

Then took a dismal aim, and brought great Gouge Beauty and strength on the tall bulwarks sate In heavenly diamond; and for every gate Great Gouge to dust! how doleful is the sound ! On golden hinges a broad ruby turns,

How vast the stroke is! and bow wide the wound ! Guards off the foe, and as it moves it burns ; O painful stroke ! distressing death! Millions of glories reign through every part ;

A wound unmeasurably wide; Infinite power, and uncreated art,

No vulgar mortal died Stand here display'd, and to the stranger show

When he resign'd his breath. How it outshines the noblest seats below.

The Muse that mourns a nation's fall The stranger fed his gazing powers awhile Should wait at Gouge's funeral, Transported; then, with a regardless smile, Should mingle majesty and groans, Glanc d his eye downward through the crystal Aloor, Such as she sings to sinking thrones, And took eternal leave of what he built before.” And in deep-sounding numbers tell,

How Sion trembled when this pillar fell,
Now, fair l'rania, leave the doleful strain;

Sion grows weak, and England poor,
Raphael commands: assume thy joys again. Nature herself with all her store
In everlasting numbers sing, and say,

Can furnish such a pomp for Death no more, " Gunston has mov'd his dwelling to the realms of day;

The reverend man let all things mour; Gunston the friend lives still: and give thy groans

Sure he was some ethereal mind, away."

Fated in flesh to be confin'd,

And order'd to be born.

His soul was of th' angelic frame,
The same ingredients, and the mould the same,

When the Creator makes a minister of flame; AN ELEGY ON MR. THOMAS GOUGE.

He was all form'd of heavenly things;

Mortals, believe what my Urania sings,

For she has seen him rise upon his flamy wings.

How would he mount, how would he fly WORTHY SIR,

Up through the ocean of the sky, The subject of the following elegy was highin your

Tow'rd the celestial coast ! esteem, and enjoyed a large share of your attech

With what amazing swiftness soar, tions. Scarce doth his memory need the assistance

Till Earth's dark ball was seen no more, of the Muse to make it perpetual; but when she

And all its mountains lost! can at once pay her honours to the venerable dead, Scarce could the Muse pursue him with her sight: and by this address acknowledge the favours she

But, angels, you can tell, has received from the living, it is a double plea

For oft you meet his wondrous flight, sure to,

And knew the stranger well; sir,

Say, how be pass'd the radiant spheres,

And visited your happy seats, your obliged humble servant,

i Psal. 137. Lament. i. 2, .. VOL. XIIL

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his eyes.

And trac'd the well-known turnings of the golden Softly it ran its silver way,
And walk'd among the stars. [streets, Till warm devotion rais'd the current strong:

Then fervid zeal on the sweet deluge rode,
Tell how he climb'd the everlasting hills,

Life, love and glory, grace and joy, Surveying all the realms above, (wheels Dirinely roll'd promiscuous on the torrent-fkuod, Borne on a strong-wing'd Faith, and on the fiery And bore our raptur'd sense away, and thoughts Of an immortal Lore.

and souls to God. 'T was there he took a glorious sight

O might we dwell for ever there! Of the inheritance of saints in light,

No more return to breathe this grosser air,
And read their title in their Saviour's right. This atmosphere of sin, calamity, and care.

How oft the humble scholar came,
And to your songs he rais'd his ears

But heavenly scenes soon leave the sight
To learn th' unutterable name,

While we belong to clay,

Passions of terrour and delight
To view th' eternal base that bears

Demand alternate sway.
The new creation's frame.
The countenance of God he saw,

Behold the man, whose awful voice
Full of mercy, full of awe,

Could well proclaim the fiery law,

Kindle the flames that Moses saw,
The glories of his power, and glories of his grace:
There he beheld the wondrous springs

And swell the trumpet's warlike noise.

He stands the herald of the threatening skies, Of those celestial sacred things,

Lo, on his reverend brow the fruuns divinely rise, The peaceful gospel, and the fiery law

All Sinai's thunder on' his tongue, and lightning is
In that majestic face.
That face did all his gazing powers employ,
With most profound abasement and exalted joy, Round the high roof the curses flew,
The rolls of Fate were half unseald,

Distinguishing each guilty head,
He stood adoring by;

Far from th' unequal war the atheist fled,
The volume opend to his eye,

His kindled arrows still pursue, And sweet intelligence he held

His arrows strike the atheist through, (spread. With all his shining kindred of the sky.

And o'er his inmost powers a shuddering hormour

The marble heart groans with an inward wound; Ye seraphs, that surround the throne,

Blaspheming souls of harden'd steel Tell how his name was through the palace known, Shriek out amaz'd at the new pangs they feel, How warm his zeal was, and how like your own: And dread the echoes of the sound. Speak it aloud, let half the nation hear,

The lofty wretch, arm'd and array'd And bold blasphemers shrink and fear?:

In gaudy pride, sinks down his impious head, Impudent tongues ! to blast a prophet's name!

Plunges in dark despair, and mingles with the dead. The poison sure was fetch'd from Hell,

Now, Muse, assume a softer strain,
Where the old blasphemers dwell,

Now sooth the sinner's raging smart,
To taint the purest dust, and blot the whitest fame!
Impudent tongues! You should be darted through, To calm the surging conscience, and assuage the

Borrow of Gouge the wondrous art (pain Nail'd to your own black mouths, and lie

He from a bleeding God derives
Useless and dead till slander die,

Life for the souls that Guilt had slain,
Till slander die with you.

And straight the dying rebel lives, “ We saw him,” said th’ ethereal throng,

The dead arise again; “ We saw his warm devotions rise,

The opening skies almost obey We heard the fervour of his cries,

His powerful song; a heavenly ray And mix'd his praises with our song:

Awakes despair to light, and sheds a cheerful day. We knew the secret flights of his retiring hours,

His wondrous voice rolls back the spheres,
Nightly he wak'd his inward powers,

Recalls the scenes of ancient years,
Young Israel rose to wrestle with bis God,

To make the Saviour known; And with unconquer'd force scald the celestial

Sweetly the flying charmer roves towers,

Through all his labours and his loves, To reach the blessing down for those that sought The anguish of his cross, and triumphs of his throne. his blood.

Come, he invites our feet to try Oft we beheld the Thunderer's hand

The steep ascent of Calvary, Rais'd high to crush the factious foe;

And sets the fatal tree before our eye: As oft we saw the rolling vengeanee stand

See here celestial sorrow reigns; Doubtful t' obey the dread command,

Rude nails and ragged thorns lay by, While his ascending prayer upheld the falling blow.” Ting'd with the crimson of redeeming veins.

In wondrous words he sung the vital flood Draw the past scenes of thy delight,

Where all our sins were drown'd, My Muse, and bring the wondrous man to sight,

Words fit to heal and fit to wound, Place him surrounder as he stood

Sharp as the spear, and balmy as the blood. With pious crowds, while from his tongue

In his discourse divine A stream of harmony ran soft along,

Afresh the purple fountain How'd; And every ear drank in the flowing good :

Our falling tears kept sympathetic time,

And trickled to the ground, 2 Though he was so great and good a man, he While every accent gave a doleful sound, did not escape censure.

Sad as the breaking heart-strings of th'expiring Gul Down to the mansions of the dead,

His hallow'd lips could well impart With trembling joy our souls are led,

The grace, the promise, and command; The captives of his tongue;

He knew the pity of Immanuel's heart, There the dear Prince of light reclines his head, And terrours of Jehovah's hand. Darkness and shades among.

How did our souls start out, to hear With pleasing horrour we survey

The embassies of love he bare, The caverns of the tomb,

While every ear in rapture hung Where the belov'd Redeemer lay,

Upon the charming wonders of his tongue! And shed a sweet perfume.

Life's busy cares a sacred silence bound, Hark, the old earthquake roars again

Attention stood with all her powers, In Gouge's voice, and breaks the chain

With fixed eyes and awe profound, Of heavy Death, and rends the tombs:

Chain'd to the pleasure of the sound, The rising God! he comes, he comes,

Nor knew the flying hours. With throngs of waking saints, a long triumphing train

But O my everlasting grief!

Heaven has recall'd his envoy from our eyes, See the bright squadrons of the sky,

Hence deluges of sorrow rise, Downward on wings of joy and haste they fly,

Nor hope th' impossible relief. Meet their returning sovereign, and attend him high.

Ye remnants of the sacred tribe A shining car the conqueror fills,

Who feel the loss, cojne share the smart, Form'd of a golden cloud;

And mix your groans with mine : Slowly the pomp moves up the azure bills,

Where is the tongue that can describe Old Satan foams and yells aloud,

Infinite things with equal art, And gnaws th' eternal brass that binds him to the

Or language so divine? wheels.

Our passions want the heavenly flame, The opening gates of bliss receive their King,

Almighty Love breathes faintly in our songs, The Father-God smiles on his Son,

And awful threatenings languish on our tongues : Pays him the honours he has won,

Howe is a great but single name: The lofty thrones adore, and little cherubs sing.

Amidst the crowd he stands alone; Behold him on his native throne,

Stands yet, but with his starry pinions on, Glory sits fast upon his head ;

Drest for the flight, and ready to be gone. Dress'd in new light, and beamy robes,

Eternal God, command his stay, His hand rolls-on the seasons, and the shining globes, Stretch the

dear months of his delay; And sways the living worlds, and regions of the o we could wish his age were one immortal day! dead.

But when the flaming chariot's come, Gouge was his envoy to the realm below,

And shining guards, t'attend thy prophet home, Vast was his trust, and great his skill,

Amidst a thousand weeping eyes, Bright the credentials he could show,

Send an Elisha down, a soul of equal size, [skieg. And thousands own'd the seal;

Or burn this worthless globe, and take us to the

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