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Thick as the trees which from the hills ascend,

Or as the grass which shoots in verdant spires
Or stars which dart thro' natures realms their fires.
How am I fir'd with a profuse delight
When round the yard I roll my ravish'd sight!
From the high casements how the ladies show,
And scatter glory on the crowds below!
From sash to sash the lovely lightening plays,
And blends their beauties in a radiant blaze.
So when the noon of night the earth invades
And o'er the landskip spreads her silent shades,
In heavens high vault the twinkling stars appear
And with gay glory's guild the gleemy sphere;
From their bright orbs a flame of splendors flows,
And all around th' enlighten'd ether glows.

Soon as huge heaps have delug'd all the plains

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Of tawny damsels mixt with simple swains,
Gay city beau's, grave matrons and coquats,

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Bully's and cully's, clergymen and wits,

The thing which first the num'rous crowd employs

Is by a breakfast to begin their joys,

While wine, which blushes in a chrystal glass,

Streams down in floods and paints their glowing face.

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While each beholds his partner on th' opposing side:

Then slow, majestick, walks the learned head;

The senate follow with a solemn tread;

Next levi's tribe in reverend order move,

Whilst the uniting youth the show improve.

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They glow in long procession till they come
Near to the portals of the sacred dome;
Then on a sudden open fly the doors,
The leader enters, then the croud thick pours.
The temple in a moment feels its freight
And cracks beneath its vast unwieldy weight:
So when the threatning Ocean roars around
A place encompass'd with a lofty mound,

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If some weak part admits the raging waves
It flows resistless and the city laves,

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Till underneath the waters ly the tow'rs

Which menac'd with their height the heav'nly pow'rs.
The work begun with pray'r, with modest pace
A youth advancing mounts the desk with grace,

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To all the audience sweeps a circling bow,
Then from his lips ten thousand graces flow.
The next that comes a learned thesis reads,
The question states, and then a war succeeds:
Loud major, minor, and the consequence
Amuse the crowd, wide-gaping at their sence;
Who speaks the loudest is with them the best,
And impudence for learning is confest.

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The battle o'er, the sable youth descend,
And to the awful chief their footsteps bend:
With a small book the laurel wreath he gives,

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Join'd with a pow'r to use it all their lives;
Obsequious they return what they receive,
With decent rev'rence they his presence leave.
Dismiss'd, they strait repeat their backward way,
And with white napkins grace the sumptuous day.

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Now plates unnumber'd on the tables shine,
And dishes fill'd invite the guests to dine.
The grace perform'd, each as it suits him best
Divides the sav'ry honours of the feast;

The glasses with bright sparkling wines abound,
And flowing bowls repeat the jolly round.
Thanks said, the multitude unite their voice
In sweetly mingled and melodious noise:
The warbling musick floats along the air,
And softly winds the mazes of the ear;
Ravish'd, the crowd promiscuously retires,
And each pursues the pleasure he admires.

Behold, my muse, far distant on the plains,

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Amidst a wrestling ring, two jolly swains:
Eager for fame, they tug and haul for blood,
One nam'd Jack Luby, t' other Robin Clod;
Panting they strain, and labouring hard they sweat,
Mix legs, kick shins, tear cloaths, and ply their feet;
Now nimbly trip, now stiffly stand their ground,
And now they twirle around, around, around;

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Till, overcome by greater art or strength,
Jack Luby lays along his lubber length.
"A fall, a fall!" the loud spectators cry;
"A fall, a fall!" the echoing hills reply.

O'er yonder field in wild confusion runs
A clam'rous troop of Affric's sable sons:
Behind, the victors shout with barbarous roar,
The vanquish'd fly with hideous yells before;
The gloomy squadron thro' the valley speeds,
Whilst clatt'ring cudgels battle o'er their heads.

Again to church the learned tribe repair,

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Where syllogisms battle in the air;

And then the elder youth their second laurels wear.
Hail, happy laurets, who our hopes inspire,

And set our ardent wishes all on fire:

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By you the pulpit and the bar will shine,

In future annals, while the ravish'd nine
Will in your bosom breathe cælestial flames,
And stamp Eternity upon your names.
Accept my infant muse, whose feeble wings

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Can scarce sustain her flight while you she sings;

With candour view my rude unfinish'd praise,

And see my Ivy twist around your bayes:

So Phideas, by immortal Jove inspir'd,

His statue carv'd, by all mankind admir'd;
Nor thus content, by his approving nod
He cut himself upon the shining god,
That, shaded by the umbrage of his name,
Eternal honours might attend his fame.

JOHN MAYLEM

FROM

THE CONQUEST OF LOUISBURG
See AMHERST now his warlike Squadrons range,
Portending dreadful Death and loud Revenge;
Forms his fierce Legions in embattled Ranks,
With Van and Rear-Guard and important Flanks;
Then at their Head, heroic and serene,

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March'd like young Scipio to a bloodier Scene,
To a high Battery, or winding Length,
Of double Embrasures, of double Strength,
Whose mighty Walls the Enemy immure,
And the long Trenches aid their great Secure;
Now o'er the Heath his brave Myrmidons leads,
While the shrill Music sounds to noble Deeds,
And the warm Sun-beams on their Fire-locks play,
Strike off in Spires and aid the blaze of Day.

A gen'ral halt ensues, nor yet the Van
Had the fierce Onset of Attack began;

Six Deep the Front a martial Grace disclose,
That dar'd the Thunder of their Gallic Foes.
But lo, while ready for the Charge they stood,
Death, Blunderbuss, Artillery, and Blood,
Blue Smoke and purple Flame around appear,
And the hot Bullets hail from Front to Rear.
Tremendous Fate by Turns incessant flies,
While the black Sulphur cloud the azure Skies;
And ghastly Savages, with fearful yell,
Invoke their Kindred of profoundest Hell,

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Whose hoarse shrill powaws valiant AMHERST scorns,

And roars loud Thunder from his dread Cohorns.

Now dire Confusions on Confusions rise,

And the deep Conflict aids the mighty Noise.

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From Hills of Smoke see Spire ascend on Spire,

And AMHERST there invelop'd all in Fire;

With his drawn Sabre, from a livid Cloud

With teeming Death emerging like a God;

Ten thousand Beams spire from the flaming Steel,

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And Gallia's Sons his weighty Prowess feel.
Now the vast Tumult wakes the drowsy Gods,

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Till thundring Mars no more the Sight could bear,

Turn'd pale with Envy and let drop his Spear,

And Fame, all flaming from the imperial Car,
Hail'd him sole Rival of the God of War.

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1758.

1758.

THOMAS GODFREY

THE INVITATION

Damon. Haste, Sylvia, haste, my charming maid!

Let's leave these fashionable toys:

Let's seek the shelter of some shade,

And revel in ne'er fading joys.

See, Spring in liv'ry gay appears,

And winter's chilly blasts are fled;

Each grove its leafy honours rears,

And meads their lovely verdure spread.

Sylvia. Yes, Damon, glad I 'll quit the town;
Its gaieties now languid seem:

Then sweets to luxury unknown

We'll taste, and sip th' untainted stream.

In Summer's sultry noon-tide heat

I'll lead thee to the shady grove,

There hush thy cares, or pleas'd repeat

Those vows that won my soul to love.

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Damon. When o'er the mountain peeps the dawn,

And round her ruddy beauties play,

I'll wake my love to view the lawn,

Or hear the warblers hail the day. But without thee the rising morn

In vain awakes the cooling breeze;

In vain does nature's face adorn

Without my Sylvia nought can please.

Sylvia. At night, when universal gloom

Hides the bright prospects from our view,

When the gay groves give up their bloom
And verdant meads their lovely hue,
Tho' fleeting spectres round me move,
When in thy circling arms I 'm prest,

I'll hush my rising fears with love,

And sink in slumber on thy Breast.

Damon. The new-blown rose, whilst on its leaves
Yet the bright scented dew-drop's found,

Pleas'd on thy bosom whilst it heaves,

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Shall shake its heav'nly fragrance round.

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