His limbs at eafe in foft repose he spreads,
Bewitch'd with vain delights, on flowery beds;
And, while his fenfe the fragrant breezes kiss,
He meditates a waking dream of bliss;
He thinks of kingdoms, and their crowns are near ;
He thinks of glories, and their rays appear;
He thinks of beauties, and a lovely face
Serenely fmiles in every taking grace;
He thinks of riches, and their heaps arise,
Difplay their glittering forms, and fix his eyes;
Thus drawn with pleasures in a charming view,
Rifing he reaches, and would fain pursue.
But ftill the fleeting shadows mock his care,
And till his fingers grafp at yielding air;
Whate'er our tempers as their comforts want,
It is not man's to take, but God's to grant.
If then, perfifting in the vain defign,
We look for blifs without an help divine,
We ftill may fearch, and fearch without relief,
Nor only want a blifs, but find a grief.
That fuch conviction may to fight appear,
Sit down, ye fons of men, spectators here ;
Fehold a fcene upon your folly wrought,
And let this lively scene inftruct the thought.
Boy, blow the pipe until the bubble rife,
Then caft it off to float upon the skies;
Still fwell its fides with breath-O beauteous frame !
It grows, it fhines: be now the world thy name!
Methinks creation forms itself within,
The men, the towns, the birds, the trees, are feen;
The skies above present an azure show,
And lovely verdure paints an earth below.
I'll wind myfelf in this delightful sphere,
And live a thousand years of pleasure there;
Roll'd up in bliffes, which around me close,
And now regal'd with these, and now with those.
Falfe hope, but falfer words of joy, farewell,
You 've rent the lodging where I meant to dwell,
My bubbles burft, my profpects difappear,
And leave behind a moral and a tear.
If at the type our dreaming fouls awake,
And Hannah's ftrains their juft impreffion make,
The boundless power of Providence we know,
And fix our trust on nothing here below.
Then he, grown pleas'd that men his greatness own,
Looks down ferenely from his ftarry throne,
And bids the blessed days our prayers have won
Put on their glories, and prepare to run.
For which our thanks be justly fent above,
Enlarg'd by gladnefs, and infpir'd with love:
For which his praises be for ever fung,
O fweet employment of the grateful tongue!
Burft forth, my temper, in a godly flame,
For all his bleffings laud his holy name :
That, ere mine eyes faluted chearful day,
A gift devoted in the womb I lay,
Like Samuel vow'd, before my breath I drew,
O could I prove in life like Samuel too!
That all my frame is exquifitely wrought,
The world enjoy'd by fenfe, and God by thought;
That living ftreams through living channels glide,
To make this frame by Nature's course abide;
That, for its good, by Providence's care,
Fire joins with water, earth concurs with air;
That Mercy's ever-inexhaufted ftore
Is pleas'd to proffer, and to promife more ;
And all the proffers ftream with grace divine,
And all the promifes with glory fhine.
O praife the Lord, my foul, in one accord,
Let all that is within me praise the Lord;
O praife the Lord, my foul, and ever strive
To keep the fweet remembrances alive.
Still raife the kind affections of thine heart,
Raife every grateful word to bear a part,
With every word the ftrains of love devife,
Awake thine harp, and thou thyfelf arife;.
Then, if his Mercy be not half exprefs'd,
Let wondering Silence magnify the rest.
MY thought, on views of admiration hung, Intently ravish'd, and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praife, and mov'd with glory there.
The joys entrancing, and the mute furprize,
Half fix the blood, and dim the moistening eyes;
Pleasure and praife on one another break,
An exclamation longs at heart to fpeak;
When thus my Genius on the work defign'd,
Awaiting closely, guides the wandering mind.
If, while thy thanks would in thy lays be wrought, A bright astonishment involve the thought, If yet thy temper would attempt to fing, Another's quill fhall imp thy feebler wing; Behold the name of royal David near, Behold his mufick, and his measures hear, Whofe harp Devotion in a rapture ftrung, And left no state of pious fouls unfung.
Him to the wondering world but newly fhewn,
Celestial Poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence, with tender years,
And native Sweetnefs for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar❜d to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along :
Majeftic Honour, at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the fceptre of her royal fate,
His forehead touch'd; and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage, deck'd with manly charms,
With waving azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Difplay'd the glories and the toils of fight,
Demanded Fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect thefe, the facred Spirit came,
By mild infufion of celeftial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breaft,
And breath'd his graces over all the reft.
Ah! where the daring flights of men afpire,
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rife,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies
While I the glittering page refolve to view,
That will the fubject of my lines renew;
The laurel wreath, my fame's imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God muft help, or else I sink.
As rolling rivers in their channels flow,
Swift from aloft, but on the level flow:
Or rage in rocks, or glide along the plains,
So juft, fo copious, move the Pfalmist's strains;
So fweetly vary'd with proportion'd heat,
So gently clear, or fo fublimely great;
While Nature's feen in all her forms to shine,
And mix with beauties drawn from Truth divine;
Sweet beauties (fweet affection's endless rill)
That in the foul like honey-drops diftil.
Hail, Holy Spirit, hail Supremely Kind,
Whofe infpirations thus enlarg'd the mind;
Who taught him what the gentle fhepherd fings,
What rich expreffions fuit the port of kings:
What daring words defcribe the foldier's heat,
And what the Prophet's extafies relate;
Nor let his worst condition be forgot,
In all this fplendour of exalted thought.
On one thy different forts of graces fall,
Still made for cach, of equal force in all;
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