468 REMNANTS OF TIME. 5 How shall my tongue proclaim thy grace While thus at home confin'd? What can t write, while painful firsts Hangs heavy on the mind t h These groans and sighs and flowing tears Give my poor spirit ease, While every groan my Father hears, And ev'ry tear he sees. 7 Is not some milling hour at hand With peace upon its wings ? Give it, O God, thy swift command, With all the joys it brings. VII. On an Elegy written by the Right Honourable the Countess of Hertford, on the death of Mrs. Rowe. 1737. STRUCK with the sight of Philomela's urn Eusebia weeps, and calls her muse to mourn : While from her lips the tuneful sorrows fell The groves confess a rising Phiiomel. VIIL Dr. Young's admirable Description of the Peacock . enlarged. VIEW next the Peacock : What bright glories run From plume to plume, and vary. in the sun? Proudly he boasts them to the heav'nly ray, Gives all his colours, and adorns the day. Was it thy pencil, Job, divinely bold, Drest his rich form in azure, green and gold ? Thy hand Isis crest with starry radiance crown'd Or spread his sweepy train ? His train disdains the grout, And kindles living lamps thro' all the spacious round. Mark with with what conscious state the bird displays His native gems, and 'midst the waving blaze On the slow step of majesty he moves, Asserts his honours, and demands his loves. IX.- Vanity inscribed on all Things. TIME, like a long flowing stream, makes haste into eter- nity, and is for ever lost and swallowed up there ; and while it is hastening to its period, it sweeps away all things with it which are not immortal. There is a limit appointed by providence to the duration of all the pleasant and desirablejscenes of life, to all the works of the hands of men, with all the glories and excel- lencies of animal nature, and all that is made of flesh and blood. bet us not dote upon any thing here below, for heaven hath in- scribed vanity upon it. The moment is hastening when the decree heaven shall be uttered, and providence shall pronounce upon every glory of the earth, " Its time shall be no longer." What is that stately building, that princely palace which now entertains and amuses our, sight with ranks of marble co- lumns and widespreading arches, that gay edifice which enriches Our imagination with,a thousand royal ornaments, and a profu- sion of gay and glittering furniture ? Time, and all its circling hours, with a swift wing are brushing it away ; decay steals upon it insensibly, and a few years hence it shall lie in moldering ruin
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