He kept his hour, and found her where fhe

lay

Cloth'd all in white, the livery of the day: 330 Scarce had the finn'd in thought, or word, or act;

Unless omiffions were to pafs for fact:

That hardly death a confequence could draw,
To make her liable to nature's law.

And, that the dy'd, we only have to fhow 335
The mortal part of her fhe left below:
The reft, fo fmooth, fo fuddenly she went,
Look'd like tranflation through the firma-

ment,

Or, like the fiery car on the third errand fent.

O happy foul! if thou canft view from high, 340
Where thou art all intelligence, all eye,

If looking up to God, or down to us,
Thou find❜ft that any way be pervious,
Survey the ruins of thy house, and fee
Thy widow'd, and thy orphan family:
Look on thy tender pledges left behind;
And, if thou canft a vacant minute find

345

Ver. 341. Where thou art all intelligence, all eye,] Dryden perhaps had in memory his master's defcription of fpirits, Par. L. B. vi. 350.

"All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
"All intellect, all fenfe

TODD.

From heavenly joys, that interval afford
To thy fad children, and thy mourning lord.
See how they grieve, mistaken in their love, 350
And fhed a beam of comfort from above;
Give them, as much as mortal eyes can bear,
A tranfient view of thy full glories there;
That they with moderate forrow may fuftain
And mollify their loffes in thy gain.
Or elfe divide the grief; for fuch thou wert,
That should not all relations bear a part,
It were enough to break a fingle heart.

355

360

Let this fuffice: nor thou, great faint, refufe This humble tribute of no vulgar mufe: Who; not by cares, or wants, or age depreft, Stems a wild deluge with a dauntless breast; And dares to fing thy praifes in a clime Where vice triumphs, and virtue is a crime; Where e'en to draw the picture of thy mind, Is fatire on the most of human kind: Take it, while yet 'tis praife; before my rage, Unfafely juft, break loofe on this bad age; So bad, that thou thyfelf hadft no defence From vice, but barely by departing hence. 370 Be what, and where thou art: to wish thy place,

366

Were, in the beft, prefumption more than

grace.

Thy relics, (fuch thy works of mercy are)

Have, in this poem, been my holy care.,

As earth thy body keeps, thy foul the fky, 375
So fhall this verse preserve thy memory;
For thou shalt make it live, because it fings
of thee.

Ver. 277. For thou shalt make] Our author owned he did not know the perfon on whom he wrote this long panegyric. This must be his excufe for the coldness and infipidity of the piece. Dr. J. WARTON.

ON THE DEATH OF

AMYNTAS.

A PASTORAL ELEGY.

"TWAS on a joylefs and a gloomy morn,

Wet was the grafs, and hung with pearls the

thorn;

When Damon, who defign'd to pass the day With hounds and horns, and chase the flying

prey,

10

Rofe early from his bed; but foon he found
The welkin pitch'd with fullen clouds around,
An eastern wind, and dew upon the ground.
Thus while he ftood, and fighing did furvey
The fields, and curft the ill omens of the day,
He faw Menalcas come with heavy pace;
Wet were his eyes, and chearless was his face:
He wrung his hands, distracted with his care,
And fent his voice before him from afar.
Return, he cry'd, return, unhappy fwain,
The fpungy clouds are fill'd with gathering rain:
The promise of the day not only crofs'd,
But e'en the fpring, the fpring itself is loft.

16

Amyntas-oh!-he could not speak the reft,
Nor needed, for prefaging Damon guefs'd.
Equal with heaven young Damon lov'd the boy,
The boast of nature, both his parents' joy. 21
His graceful form revolving in his mind;
So great a genius, and a foul fo kind,
Gave fad affurance that his fears were true;
Too well the envy of the gods he knew:
For when their gifts too lavishly are plac'd,
Soon they repent, and will not make them laft.
For fure it was too bountiful a dole,

25

The mother's features, and the father's foul. Then thus he cry'd: The morn bespoke the

news:

The morning did her chearful light diffuse : But fee how fuddenly the chang'd her face, And brought on clouds and rain, the day's difgrace;

30

Juft fuch, Amyntas, was thy promis'd race. What charms adorn'd thy youth, where nature

fmil'd,

And more than man was given us in a child! His infancy was ripe: a foul fublime

In

years fo tender that prevented time: Heaven gave him all at once; then fnatch'd

away,

Ere mortals all his beauties could furvey: 40 Juft like the flower that buds and withers in a

day.

35