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The band, as fairy legends fay,
Was wove on that creating day
When he, who call'd with thought to birth.
Yon tented fky, this laughing earth,

And drefs'd with fprings, and forefts tall,
And pour'd the main eng rting all,
Long by the lov'd enthufiaft woo'd,
Himself in fome diviner mood,
Retiring, fate with her alone,
And plac'd her on his fapphire throne,
The whiles, the vaulted fhrine around,
Seraphic wires were heard to found,
Now fublimeft triumph fwelling;
Now on love and mercy dwelling;
And the from out the veiling cloud
Breath'd her magic notes aloud:

And thou, thou rich-hair'd youth of morn,'
And all thy fubje&t life was born.
The dangerous paffions kept aloof,
Far from the fainted growing woof:
But near it fat ecflatic Wonder,
Liftening the deep applauding thunder:
And Truth, in funny veft array'd,
By whofe the Tarfol's eyes were made;
All the fhadowy tribes of mind,
In braided dance their murmurs join'd,
And all the bright uncounted pow'rs,
Who feed on heaven's ambrofial flow'rs.

Where

Where is the Bard whofe foul can now
Its high prefuming hopes avow?
Where he who thinks, with rapture blind,
This hallow'd work for him defign'd?
High on fome cliff to heaven up-pil'd,
Of rude accefs, of profpect wild,
Where, tanglen round the jealous fleep,
Strange fhades o'erbrow the vallies deep,
And holy Genii guard the rock,

Its glooms embrown, its fprings unlock;
While on its rich ambitious head

An Eden, like his own, lies fpread.
I view that oak, the fancied glades among,
By which a Milton lay, his evening ear,
From many a cloud that dropt ethereal dew,

Nigh fpher'd in heaven its native frains could hear:
On which that ancient trump he reach'd was hung'
Thither oft his glory greeting,

From Waller's myrile fhades retreating,

With many a vow from Hope's afp ring tongue
My trembling feet his guiding fleps pursue ;
In vain-fuch blifs to ore alone,

Of all the fons of foul was known,
And Heaven and Fancy, kindred pow'rs,
Have now o'erturn'd th'infpiring bow'rs,

Or curtain'd clofe fuch fcene from every future view.

APOLOGY

APOLOGY FOR VAGRANTS.

'OR him, who, loft to ev'ry hope of life,

FOR

Has long with fortune held unequal ftrife,
Known to no human love, no human care,
The friendless, homeless object of despair;
For the poor vagrant feel, while he complains,
Nor from fad freedom fend to fadder chains.
Alike, if folly or misfortune brought

Those laft of woes his evil days has wrought
Relieve with focial mercy, and with me,
Folly's misfortune in the firft degree.
Perhaps on fome inhofpitable fhore

The houseless wretch a widow'd

parent bore; Who, then no more by golden profpects led, Of the poor Indian begg'd a leafy bed. Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent mourn'd her foldier flain; Bent o'er her babe, her eye diffolv'd in dew, The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the fad prefage of his future years, The child of mifery, baptiz'd in tears!

Cruikshanks delin.

Barlow foulp.

There oft, at dawn, as one forgot behind, Who longs to follow, yet unknowing where, Some hoary Shepherd, o're his staff reclin'd, Pores on the graves, and sighs a broken prayer.

Publish'd as the Act directs, by Roach Woburn Street, New Drury Theatre Royal September 1,179

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