Which must hereafter bear her favour'd name,
Thou gracious deign'st to let the fair one view
Her typic people; thou with pleasure taught'st her
To draw the bow, to slay the shaggy lion,
And stop the spreading ruin of the plains.
Happy the nymph, who honour'd by thy passion,
Was aided by thy power! the monstrous Python
Durst tempt thy wrath in vain: for dead he fell,
To thy great strength and golden arms unequal.
Iö! while thy unerring hand elanc'd
Another, and another dart; the people
Joyfully repeated Iö! Iö Pean!
Elance the dart, Apollo: for the safety
And health of man, gracious thy mother bore thee.
Envy, thy latest foe, suggested thus:
Like thee I am a power immortal; therefore
To thee dare speak. How canst thou favour partial
Those poets who write little? Vast and great
Is what I love: the far-extended ocean
To a small rivulet I prefer. Apollo
Spurn'd Envy with his foot; and thus the god:
Demon, the head-long current of Euphrates,
Assyrian river, copious runs, but muddy,
And carries forward with his stupid force
Polluting dirt; his torrent still augmenting,
His wave still more defil'd; meanwhile the nymphs
Melissan, sacred and recluse to Ceres,
Studious to have their offerings well receiv'd,
And fit for Heavenly use, from little urns
Pour streams select, and purity of waters.
Iä! Apollo, mighty king, let Envy
Ill-judging and verbose, from Lethe's lake
Draw tuns unmeasurable; while thy favour
Administers to my ambitious thirst
The wholesome draught from Aganippe's spring Genuine, and with soft murmurs gently rilling Adown the mountains where thy daughters haunt.
A PARAPHRASE ON THE THIRTEENTH CHAPTER OF
THE FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS.
DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue,
Than ever man pronounc'd, or angels sung;
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;
And had I power to give that knowledge birth,
In all the speeches of the babbling earth;
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire,
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire;
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw
When Moses gave them miracles and law:
Yet gracious Charity, indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A tymbal's sound were better than my voice,
My faith were form, my eloquence were noise.
Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; Knows with just reins, and gentle hand to guide, Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives;
And much she suffers, as she much believes.
Soft she brings, wherever she arrives:
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives:
Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even;
And opens in each heart a little Heaven.
Each other gift, which God on man bestows,
Its proper bound, and due restriction knows;
To one fixt purpose dedicates its power;
And, finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,
Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease;
But lasting Charity's more ample sway,
Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,
In happy triumph shall for ever live,
And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive.
As through the artist's intervening glass Our eye observes the distant planets pass; A little we discover; but allow,
That more remains unseen, than art can show: So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve, (Its feeble eye intent on things above)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope:
Yet are we able only to survey
Dawnings of beams, and promises of day.
Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd;
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.
Then constant faith, and holy hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy :
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity,
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office, and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum'd thy flame,
Shalt still survive-
Shalt stand before the host of Heaven confest,
For ever blessing, for ever blest.
IN THE CHURCH OF HALSTEAD IN ESSEX. THE
SPIRE OF WHICH, BURNT DOWN
BY LIGHTNING, WAS REBUILT AT THE EXPENSE OF MR. SAMUEL FISKE, MDCCXVII.*
VIEW not this spire by measure given
To buildings rais'd by common hands:
That fabric rises high as Heaven,
Whose basis on devotion stands.
*The spire of this church was burnt by lightning in April 1701, when, to prevent the flames from spreading, the supporters of the steeple were sawn asunder, and the whole
While yet we draw this vital breath,
We can our faith and hope declare :
But Charity beyond our death
Will ever in our works appear.
Best be he call'd among good men,
Who to his God this column rais'd: Though lightning strike the dome * again, The man, who built it, shall be prais'd.
fell into the churchyard. To record the liberality of Mr. Fiske, the following inscription, probably written by Mr. Prior, is fixed on the south side of the chancel, on a large sheet of copper framed with wood.
JOHN MORLEY
To the memory of his
good friend and neighbour
dedicates this plate,
Obiit Apr. 21, 1718, æt. 64.
Samuel Fiske,
By descent a gentleman,
By profession an apothecary.
In his practice
honest, knowing, successful.
In his life
pious, just, and charitable.
The riches he acquired he used
as the means of doing good.
A friend to the public, a father to the poor,
A great benefactor to this town of Halstead,
More particularly
the spire of this church, burnt down by
lightning, he rebuilt at his own expense.
Anno 1717.
* This has since actually happened. It hath a second time been destroyed by lightning, and rebuilt about 1765.
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