LYRIC a Sickness and pains arequite forgot, The spleen tt §elf is gone ; Plung'd in your woes 1 feel them not, Or feel them all in one. 3 Infinite grief puts sense to flight, And all the soul invades: So' the broad gloom of spreadingnight Devours the evening shades. 4 Thus am I born to be unbiest! This sympathy of woe Drives my own tyrants from my breast T' admit a foreign foe. 5 Sorrows in long succession reign ; Their iron rod I feel : Friendship has only chang'd the chain, But I'm the pris'ncr still. 6 Why was this life for misery made Or why drawn out so long? Is there no room amongst the dead ? Or is a wretch too young ? 7 Move faster on, great nature's wheel, Be kind, ye rolling pow'rs, Marl my days headlong down the hill With undistinguish'd hours. 6 Be dusky, all my rising suns, Nor smile upon a slave ; Darkness and death, make haste at. once To hide me in the grave. The Reverse : or, The Comforts of n Friend. 1 THUS nature tun'd her .mournful tongue, Till grace lift up her head, Revers'd the sorrow and the song, And smiling, thus she said: 2 " Were kindredspirits horn for cares ? Must ev'ry grief be mine ? Is there a sympathy in tears, Yetjoys refuse to join. s Forbid it, heav'n, and raise my love, And make our joys the same : So bliss and friendship join'd above, Mix an immortal flame. 4 Sorrows are lost in vast delight That brightens all the soul: As deluges of dawning light O'erwhelm the dusky pole. S Pleasures in long succession reign, And all my pow'rs employ : Friendship but shifts the pleasing scene, And fresh repeats the joy. G Life has a soft and silver thread, Nor is it drawn too long ; Yet when my vaster hopes persuade, I'm willing to be gone. 7 Fast as'ye please roll down the hill, And haste away my years; Or I can wait my Father's will, And dwell beneath thespheres. Vol.. ix. POEMS. 2 e Rise glorious, ever future sun, Gild all my following days, But make the lastdear momentknowa By well- distinguish'd rays." To the Right Honourable JOHN LORD CUST *. The hardy Soldier. 1 " O Wlry is man so thoughtless grown? Why guilty souls in haste to die? Vent'ring the leap. to worlds un- known, Heedless,to arms and blood they fly. S Are lives but worth a soldier's pay ? Why will ye join such wide extremes, And stake immortal souls in play Atdesp'rate ehance,and bloody games? 3 Valour's a nobler turn of thought, Whose pardon'd guilt forbids her fears: ' Calmly she meets the deadly shot,. Secure of life above the stars. 4 But frenzy dares-eternal fate, And spurn. dwithhonour's airy dreams, Flies to attack th' infernal gate, And force a passage to the flames." .5 Thus hov'ring o'er Namuria's plains, Sung heav'nly love in GabriePs form: YoungThraso left the moving strains, And vow'd to pray before the storm. 6 Anon the thund'ring trumpet calls; " Vows are but wind," the hero cries; Then swears by heav'n, and scales the walls, Drops in the ditch, despairs, and dies. Buruinysevcral Poems of Ovid, Martial, Oldham, Dryden, ¢c. 17e8. I I Judge the muse of lewd desire ; Her sons to darkness, and her works to fire. In vain the flatteries of their wit Now with a melting strain, now with an heav'nly flight, Would tempt my virtue to approve Those gaudy tinders of a lawless love. So harlots dress : They can appear Sweet, modest, cool, divinely fair, To charm a Cato's eye; but all within, Stench, impudence and fire, and ugly raging sin. 2 Die Flora, die in endless shame, Thou prostitute of blackest fame, Stript of thy false array. Ovid, and all ye wilder pens Of modern lust, who gild our scenes, Poison the British stage, and paint damnation gay, Attend your mistress to the dead; When Flora dies, her impsshould wait upon her shade. * At the siege of Namur. S
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