Then, lovely mourner, wipe those tears away,
And cares that urge thee to decay;
Like ravenous age thy charms they wafte,
Wrinkle thy youthful brow, and blooming beauties
blaft.

But keep thy looks and mind ferene,
All gay without, all calm within;
For Fate is aw'd, and adverfe fortunes fly

Could all the anguish of my mind

Remove my cares, or make but Fortune kind;

Soon I'd the grateful tribute pay, And weep my troubled thoughts away: To wealth and pleasure every figh prefer, And more than gems efteem each falling tear.

II.

But, fince infulting cares are most inclin'd
To triumph o'er th' afflicted mind;
Since fighs can yield us no relief,

And tears, like fruitful showers, but nourish grief;

Then cease, fair mourner, to complain, Nor lavish such bright streams in vain : But ftill with chearful thoughts thy cares beguile, And tempt thy better fortunes with a smile.

III.

The generous mind is by its fufferings known,
Which no affliction tramples down;
'But when opprefs'd will upward move,
Spurn down its clog of cares, and foar above.
Thus the young royal eagle tries
On the fun-beams his tender eyes,

And, if he shrinks not at th' offensive light,

HYMN TO THE MORNING.

IN PRAISE OF LIGHT.

I.

Pring from the darkfome womb of night,

ARENT of Day! whose beauteous beams of light

And midft their native horrors fhow,
Like gems adorning of the Negro's brow:
Not heav'n's fair bow can equal thee,
In all its gaudy drapery;

Thou firft effay of light, and pledge of day!
That usher'ft in the fun, and ftill prepar'ft its way.

Ц.

Rival of fhade, eternal spring of light!

Thou art the genuine fource of it: From thy bright unexhausted womb, The beauteous race of days and seasons come. Thy beauty ages cannot wrong,

But, fpite of time, thou 'rt ever young: Thou art alone heaven's most virgin light,

IV.

Though cares affault thy breaft on every fide,

Yet bravely ftem th' impetuous tide: No tributary tears to fortune pay, Nor add to any lofs a nobler day;

But with kind hopes fupport thy mind, And think thy better lot behind: Amidst afflictions let thy foul be great, And fhew thou dar'it deferve a better state.

III.

Like fome fair bride thou rifeft from thy bed,
And doft around thy luftre fpread;
Around the universe dispense

New life to all, and quickening influence.
With gloomy fmiles thy rival Night
Beholds thy glorious dawn of light:
Not all the wealth fhe views in mines below
Can match thy brighter beams, or equal luftre fhew.

IV.

At thy approach, Nature erects her head,
The fmiling universe is glad;
The drowsy earth and feas awake,
And, from thy beams, new life and vigour take:
When thy more chearful rays appear,
Ev'n guilt and women cease to fear:
Horror, Defpair, and all the fons of night
Retire before thy beams, and take their hasty flight.
V.

To thee, the grateful Eaft their altars raife,
And fing with early hymns thy praise;
Thou doft their happy foil bestow,
Enrich the heavens above, and earth below:
Thou rifeft in the fragrant Eaft,

Like the fair Panix from her balmy neft:

No altar of the gods can equal thine,

The air's thy richest incenfe, the whole land thy fhrine!

VI.

But yet thy fading glories foon decay.

Thine 's but a momentary stay;

Too foon thou 'rt ravish'd from our fight,

Barne down the ftream of day, and overwhelm'd with light.

Thy beams to their own ruin hafte,
They 're fram'd too exquifite to laft:

Thine is a glorious, but a fhort-liv'd state.
Pity so fair a birth should yield fo foon to fate!

VII.

Before th' Almighty Artist fram'd the sky,
Or
gave the earth its harmony,

His firft command was for thy light;
He view'd the lovely birth, and bleffed it:

In purple fwaddling-bands it struggling lay,
Not yet maturely bright for day:

Old Chaos then a chearful smile put on,
And, from thy beauteous form, did first presage its own.

VIII.

HYMN TO DARKNESS.

D

ARKNESS, thou first great parent of us all, Thou art our great original:

Since from thy universal womb

III.

Say, in what diftant region doft thou dwell,
To Reason inacceffible;

From form and duller matter free,
Thou foar'st above the reach of man's philosophy.
IV.

Involv'd in thee, we firft receive our breath,
Thou art our refuge too in death:
Great Monarch of the Grave and Womb,
Where-e'er our fouls fhall go, to thee our bodies come.
V.

The filent globe is ftruck with awful fear,
When thy Majestic shades appear:
Thou doft compofe the air and fea,

And Earth a fabbath keeps, facred to Reft and Thee.
VI.

In thy ferener shades our ghofts delight,

And court the umbrage of the Night;
In vaults and gloomy caves they stray,
But fly the Morning's beams, and ficken at the Day.
VII.

Though folid bodies dare exclude the light,
Nor will the brightest ray admit;
No fubftance can thy force repel,

Thou reign'ft in depths below, doft in the centre dwell.

VIII.

The sparkling gems, and ores in mines below,
To thee their beauteous luftre owe;
Though form'd within the womb of Night,
Bright as their fire they shine, with native rays of light.

IX.

When thou doft raise thy venerable head,

And art in genuine Night array'd,

Thy Negro beauties then delight;

Beauties, like polish'd jet, with their own darkness bright.

X.

Thou doft thy fmiles impartially bestow,

And know'ft no difference here below:
All things appear the fame by thee,
Though Light diftinction makes, thou giv'ft equality.
XI.

Thou, Darkness, art the lover's kind retreat,
And doft the nuptial joys compleat;
Thou doft infpire thern with thy shade,
Giv'ft vigour to the youth, and warm'ft the yielding
maid.

XII.

Calm as the blefs'd above the Anchorites dwell,
Within their peaceful gloomy cell.
Their minds with heavenly joys are fill'd;

come.

II.

Thy wondrous birth is ev'n to Time unknown,
Or, like Eternity, thou 'dft none;
Whilft Light did its firft being owe
Unto that awful fhade it dares to rival now.

XIII.

In caves of Night, the oracles of old
Did all their mysteries unfold:
Darkness did first religion grace,

Gave terrors to the God, and reverence to the place.

XIV.

SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY AN EPICURE.

In Imitation of the Second Chapter of the WISDOM of SOLOMON.

To the Lord HUNSDON.

A PINDARI CODE.
HEN will penurious Heaven no more allow?
No more on its own darling man bestow?

T

Is it for this he lord of all appears,

And his great Maker's image bears?
To toil beneath a wretched state,
Opprefs'd with miferies and fate;
Beneath his painful burthen groan,

And in this beaten road of life drudge on!
Amidst our labors, we poffefs
No kind allays of happiness:
No foftening joys can call our own,
To make this bitter drug go down;
Whilft death an eafy conqueft gains,
And the infatiate Grave in endless triumph reigns.
With throes and pangs into the world we come,
The curfe and burthen of the womb:
Nor wretched to ourselves alone,
Our mothers' labours introduce our own.
In cries and tears our infancy we waste,

Thofe fad prophetic tears that flow
By inftinct of our future woe;

And even our dawn of life with forrows overcaft.

Thus we toil out a restless age,

Each his laborious part must have,

Down from the monarch to the flave,

Say, learned Sage, thou that art mighty wife!
Unriddle me these myfteries:
What is the foul, the vital heat,
That our mean frame does animate?
What is our breath, the breath of man,
That buoys his nature up, and does ev'n life fuftain?
Is it not air, an empty fume,
A fire that does itfelf confume;
A warmth that in a heart is bred,

A lambent flame with heat and motion fed?
Extinguish that, the whole is gone,
This boafted fcene of life is done:
Away the phantom takes its flight,

Damn'd to a loathfome grave, and an eternal night.
The foul, th' immortal part we boast,

In one confuming minute 's loft;
To its first fource it must repair,

Scatter with winds, and flow with common air.
Whilft the fall'n body, by a swift decay,

Refolves into its native clay:

For duft and ashes are its fecond birth,

And that incorporates too with its great parent Earth

IV.

Nor fhall our names our memories furvive,
Alas, no part of man can live!

The empty blafts of fame shall die,
And even thofe nothings tafte mortality.
In vain to future ages we tranfmit
Heroic acts, and monuments of wit:

In vain we dear-bought honors leave,
To make our afhes gay, and furnish out a grave.
Ah, treacherous immortality!

For thee our flock of youth we wafte,

And urge on life, that ebbs too fast: To purchase thee with blood, the valiant fly; And, to furvive in fame, the great and glorious die. Lavish of life, they fquander this eftate,

And for a poor reverfion wait:

Bankrupts and mifers to themselves they grow, Fmbitter wretched life with toils and woe,

V.