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A

CONTEMPLATION

ON

NIG H

T.

WE

HETHER amid the gloom of night I stray,
Or my glad eyes enjoy revolving day,.

Still Nature's various face informs my fenfe,

Of an all-wife, all-powerful Providence.

When the gay fun first breaks the shades of night,
And strikes the diftant eastern hills with light,
Colour returns, the plains their livery wear,
And a bright verdure clothes the fmiling year;
The blooming flowers with opening beauties glow,
And grazing flocks their milky fleeces fhow;
The barren cliffs with chalky fronts' arife,
And a pure azure arches o'er the skies.
But, when the gloomy reign of Night returns,
Stript of her fading pride all nature mourns:
The trees no more their wonted verdure boast,.
But weep in dewy tears their beauty loft;
No diftant landskips draw our curious eyes,
Wrapt in Night's robe the whole creation lies.
Yet ftill, e'en now, while dark nefs clothes the land,
We view the traces of th' Almighty hand;
Millions of ftars in Heaven's wide vault appear,
And with new glories hangs the boundless sphere :
The filver moon her western couch forfakes,
And o'er the fkies her nightly circle makes,

Her

Her folid globe beats back the funny rays,
And to the world her borrow'd light repays.

Whether those stars, that twinkling lustre send,
Are funs, and rolling worlds those suns attend,
Man may conjecture, and new schemes declare;
Yet all his fyftems but conjectures are.

But this we know, that Heaven's eternal King,
Who bade this universe from nothing spring,
Can at his Word bid numerous worlds appear,
And rifing worlds th' all-powerful Word fhall hear,
When to the Western main the fun defcends,

To other lands a rifing day he lends;

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The spreading dawn another shepherd (pies,
The wakeful flocks from their warm folds arife
Refresh'd, the peasant seeks his early toil,
And bids the plough correct the fallow foil.
While we in fleep's embraces waste the night,
The climes oppos'd enjoy meridian light:
And when thofe lands the bufy fun forfakes,
With us again the rofy morning wakes;
In lazy fleep the night rolls swift away,
And neither clime laments his abfent ray.
When the pure foul is from the body flown,
No more fhall Night's alternate reign be known :
The fun no more. thall rolling light bestow,
But from th' Almighty streams of glory flow.
Oh, may fome nobler thought my foul employ,
Than empty, tranfient, fublunary joy !
The ftars fhall drop, the fun fhall lofe his flame;
But thou, O God, for ever fhine the fame.

A THOUGHT

E

A

THOUGHT

ON

ETERNITY.

ORE the foundations of the world were laid,
Ere kindling light th' Almighty word obey'd,
Thou wert; and when the fubterraneous flame
Shall burit its prifon, and devour this frame,
From angry Heaven when the keen lightning flies,
When fervent heat diffolves the melting fkies,
Thou ftill fhalt be; fill as thou wert before,
And know no change, when Time fhall be no more.
O endless thought! divine eternity!

Th' immortal foul fhares but a part of thee;
For thou wert prefent when our life began,
When the warm duft fhot up in breathing man.

Ah! what is life? with ills encompafs'd round,
Amidft our hopes, Fate ftrikes the fudden wound
To-day the ftatefman of new honour dreams,
To-morrow Death destroys his airy schemes;
Is mouldy treafure in thy cheft confin'd?
Think all that treafure thou must leave behind;
Thy heir with smiles fhall view thy blazon'd hearfe,
And all thy hoards with lavish hand difperfe.
Should certain fate th' impending blow delay,
Thy mirth will ficken, and thy bloom decay;

Ther

Then feeble age will all thy nerves difarm,
No more thy blood its narrow channels warm.
Who then would wish to ftretch this narrow fpan,
To fuffer life beyond the date of man?

The virtuous foul pursues a nobler aim,
And life regards but as a fleeting dream:
She longs to wake, and wishes to get free,,
To launch from earth into eternity..

For, while the boundless theme extends our thought, Ten thousand thousand rolling years are nought.

AN

EPIGRAMMATICAL EXPOSTULATION*.

ROM Mohock and from Hawkubite,

FRO

Good Lord, deliver me;

Who wander through the streets by night,

Committing cruelty.

They flash our fons with bloody knives,.

And on our daughters fall;

And if they ravish not our wives,

We have good luck withal.

Coaches and chairs they overturn,

Nay carts most easily:

Therefore from Gog, and eke Magog,

Good Lord, deliver me!

**Annexed, in 1712, to Gay's "Wonderful Pro"phecy, &c." a humourous treatife on the Mohocks.

EPITAPH

E PI

TAPH

OF

BYE-WORDS.

ERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd

HERI

Every word the e'er heard in this church about God. To convince her of God, the good Dean did endeavour, But ftill in her heart fhe held Nature more clever. Though he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run Upon fomething or other, the found better fun. For the dame, by her skill in affairs aftronomical, Imagin'd, to live in the clouds was but comical. In this world, fhe defpis'd every foul fhe met here, And now the 's in t'other, the thinks it but queer.

MY

MY OWN EPITAPH.

LIFE is a jeft, and all things show it;
I thought fo once, but now I know it.

Α

M

T то

FOR THE OPERA OF MUTIUS SCÆVOLA *,

WH

HO here blames words, or verses, fongs, or fingers,

Like Mutius Scævola will burn his fingers.

* An opera by Mr. Rolli, performed in 1721.

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