A

CONTEMPLATION

WHE

ΟΝ

NIGHT.

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 fhades of night,. And ftrikes 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 show; 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 lost; No diftant landfkips draw our curious eyes, Wrapt in Night's robe the whole creation lies. Yet ftill, e'en now, while darkness 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 skies her nightly circle makes,

Her

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

Whether thofe ftars, 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 fpring,
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;

The fpreading dawn another shepherd spies,
The wakeful flocks from their warm folds arise;
Refresh'd, the peasant seeks his early toil,
And bids the plough correct the fallow soil.
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 absent ray.
When the pure foul is from the body flown,
No more shall Night's alternate reign be known :
The fun no more thall rolling light bestow,
But from th' Almighty ftreams of glory flow.
Oh, may some nobler thought my foul employ,
Than empty, tranfient, fublunary joy!

The stars shall drop, the sun shall lose his flame;
But thou, O God, for ever fhine the fame.

A THOUGHT

A

THOUGHT

ON

ETERNITY.

ERE 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; ftill as thou wert before,
And know no change, when Time fhall be no more.
O endlefs 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 fchemes;
Is mouldy treafure in thy cheft confin'd?
Think all that treafure thou must leave behind;
Thy heir with fmiles fhall view thy blazon'd hearfe,
And all thy hoards with lavifh hand difperfe.
Should certain fate th' impending blow delay,
Thy mirth will ficken, and thy bloom decay;

Then

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 *.

FRO

ROM Mohock and from Hawkubite,
Good Lord, deliver me;

Who wander through the ftreets 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 Prophecy, &c." a humourous treatife on the Mohocks.

EPITAPH

EPITAPH

OF

BY E-WORD S.

ERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd

HER

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 fkill 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, fhe thinks it but queer.

MY OWN EPITAPH.

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

A MOTT O
мотто

FOR THE OPERA OF MUTIUS SCÆVOLA *,

WHO here blames words, or verfes, fongs, or

fingers,

Like Mutius Scævola will burn his fingers.

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

I

WINE: