Thy pray'r, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In fweet memorial rife before the throne: These charms, fuccefs in our bright region find, And force an angel down, to calm thy mind. 191 For this, commiffion'd, I forfook the sky, Nay, cease to kneel-Thy fellow fervant I. Then know the truth of government divine, And let these scruples be no longer thine. The maker juftly claims that world he made, On ufing second means to work his ends: 195 201 What ftrange events can strike with more surprize, Than those which lately ftrook thy wond'ring eyes? Yet, taught by these, confess th' almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust! The Great, Vain Man, who far'd on costly food, Whofe life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his iv'ry ftands with goblets fhine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the Cup, the graceless custom loft, And still he welcomes, but with lefs of cost. The mean, fufpicious Wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wand'ring poor; 215 With him I left the cup, to teach his mind 220 Long had our Pious Friend in virtue trod, But now the child half wean'd his heart from God; (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, 226 And measur'd back his steps to earth again. To what exceffes had his dotage run? But God, to fave the father, took the fon. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go (And 'twas my miniftry to deal the blow). The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just. 230 235 But how had all his fortune felt a wrack, Had that falfe Servant fped in fafety back! This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, And what a fund of charity would fail ! Thus Heaven instructs thy mind: This tryal o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and fin no more. On founding pinions here the youth withdrew, The Sage flood wond'ring as the Seraph flew. 241 Thus look'd Elisha when, to mount on high, His mafter took the chariot of the sky; The fiery pomp afcending left the view; A FAIRY TALE. IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STILE. BY THE SAME. IN Britain's ifle, and' Arthur's days, When midnight faeries daunc'd the maze, Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth, Endow'd with courage, fenfe and truth, 5 Though badly fhap'd he been. The fable of this elegant, but furely immoral, poem not the invention of Dr. Parnell, who had it, in all pro bability, from Mores Dialogues. It is a production of the darker ages, and makes the eightyeth chapter of the Gefta Romanorum. His mountain back mote well be faid, Yet, fpite of all that Nature did He felt the force of Edith's eyes, Cou'd ladies look within; But one Sir Topaz dress'd with art, He had a shape to win. Edwin (if right I read my song) 'Twas near an old enchaunted court, His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, And drops his limbs adown. 10 15 20 30 But fcant he lays him on the floor, When hollow winds remove the door, A trembling rocks the ground: And (well I ween, to count aright) At once an hundred tapers light On all the walls around. Now founding tongues affail his ear, Come pranckling o'er the place. But (trust me, gentles!) never yet Or half fo rich before; The country lent the sweet perfumes, The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes, Now whilft he gaz'd, a gallant dreft In flaunting robes above the rest, What mortal of a wretched mind, Has here prefum'd to hide? 35 40 45 50 |