Pointing at graves, and in the rear,
Trembling, and talking loud, went Fear.
The church-yard teem'd--th' unsettled ground,
As in an ague, fhook around;
While in fome dreary vault confin'd,
Or riding in the hollow wind,
Horror, which turns the heart to stone,
In dreadful founds was heard to groan.
All flaring, wild, and out of breath,
At length they reach the place of death.
A vault it was, long time applied
To hold the last remains of pride:
No beggar there, of humble race,
And humble fortunes, finds a place ;
To reft in pomp as well as ease,
"The only way's to pay the fees.
Fools, Rogues, and Whores, if rich and great,
Proud e'en in death, here rot in ftate.
No thieves difrobe the well-dreft dead,
No plumbers steal the facred lead,
Quiet and fafe the bodies lie,
No Sextons fell, no Surgeons buy.
Thrice each the pond'rous key apply'd,
And thrice to turn it vainly try'd,
Till taught by Prudence to unite,
And ftraining with collected might,
The ftubborn wards refift no more,
But open flies the growling door.
Three paces back they fell amaz'd,
Like ftatues ftood, like madmen gaz'd.
The frighted blood forfakes the face,
And feeks the heart with quicker pace;
The throbbing heart its fears declares,
And upright ftand the bristled hairs;
The head in wild diftraction fwims;
Cold fweats bedew the trembling limbs;
Nature, whilft fears her bofom chill,
Sufpends her pow'rs, and life ftands ftill.
Thus had they ftood till now, but Shame
(An useful, though neglected dame,
By heav'n defign'd the friend of man,
Though we degrade her all we can,
And firive, as our firft proof of wit,
Her name and nature to forget)
Came to their aid in happy hour,
And with a wand of mighty pow'r
Struck on their hearts; vain fears fubfide,
And baffled leave the field to Pride.
Shall they (forbid it Fame) fhall they
The dictates of vile fear obey?
Shall they, the idols of the town,
To bugbears fancy-form'd bow down?
Shall they, who greatest zeal expreft,
And undertook for all the reft,
Whose matchless courage all admire,
Inglorious from the task retire?
How would the wicked ones rejoice,
And Infidels exalt their voice,
"Perish the thought! though to our eyes
"In all its terrors Hell fhould rife,
"Though thousand ghofts in dread array,
"With glaring eye-balls cross our way,
"Though Caution trembling ftands aloof,
"Still will we on, and dare the proof."
They faid, and without farther halt,
Dauntless march'd onward to the vault.
What mortal men, who e'er drew breath,
Shall break into the houfe of Death
With foot unhallow'd, and from thence
The myft'ries of that state dispense,
Unless they with due rites prepare
Their weaker fenfe, fuch fights to bear,
And gain permiffion from the ftate,
On earth their journal to relate?
Poets themselves, without a crime,
Cannot attempt it e'en in rhime,
But always on fuch grand occafion,
Prepare a folemn invocation,
A poly for grim Pluto weave,
And in smooth numbers afk his leave.
But why this caution? why prepare
Rites needlefs now, for thrice in air
The Spirit of the night hath Sneez'd,
And thrice hath clapp'd his wings well pleas
Defcend then, Truth, and guard my fide,
My Mufe, my Patronefs, and Guide!
Let others at invention aim,
And feek by falfities for fame;
Our story wants not at this time,
Flounces and furbelows in rhime:
Relate plain facts; be brief and bold;
And let the Poets, fam'd of old,
Seek, whilft our artlefs tale we tell,
In vain to find a PARALLEL:
Silent all three went in, about
All three turn'd filent, and came out.
The COUNTRY of FAMINE. From the PROPHECY of FAMINE.
Apoem. By the fame.
рост.
FAR as the eye could teach, no tree was feen,
Earth clad in ruffet, fcorn'd the lively green.
The plague of locufts they fecure defy,
For in three hours a grafhopper must die.
No living thing, whate'er its food, feasts there,
But the cameleon, who can feast on air.
No birds, except as birds of pallage, flew,
No bee was known to hum, no dove to cóo.'
No ftreams as amber smooth, as amber clear,
Were seen to glide, or heard to warble here.
Rebellion's fpring, which through the country ran,
Furnish'd, with bitter draughts, the fteady clan.
No flow'rs embalm'd the air, but one white rofe,
Which, on the tenth of June, by instinct blows,
By inftinct blows at morn, and, when the shades
Of drizly eve prevail, by inftinét fades.
The CAVE of FAMINE. From the fame poem.
NE, and but one poor folitary cave,
Too fparing of her favours, naturé gave;
That one alone (hard tax on Scottish pride)
Shelter at once for man and beaft fupplied.
There fnares without entangling briars fpread,
And thistles arm'd against th' invader's head,
Stood in close ranks all entrance to oppofe,
Thiftles now held more precious than the rofe.
All creatures, which on nature's earlieft plan,
Were form'd to loath, and to be loath'd by man,
Which ow'd their birth to nalliness and fpite,
Deadly to touch, and hateful to the fight,
Creatures, which, when admitted in the ark,
Their Saviour fhunn'd, and rankl'd in the dark,
Found place within; marking her noifome road
With poifon's trail, here crawl'd the bloated toad;
There webs were fpread of more than common fize,
And half-ftarv'd fpiders prey'd on half-ftarv'd flies;
In queft of food, efts ftrove in vain to crawl;
Siugs, pinch'd with hanger, fmear'd the flimy wall;
The cave around with hiffing ferpents rung,
On the damp roof unhealthy vapour hung,
And FAMINE, by her children always knotwn
As proud as poor, bere fix'd her native throne.
ODE to Duke HUMPHRY.
Imitated from HORACE, Lib. I. Ode 25. Parcius juntas, &c.
WHERE are the crouds we saw before;
No flatt'rers now befiege your door,
None to your smiles afpire;
Your porter once so brisk in place,
So bufy, bustling like your grace,
May with your grace retire.
II.
The promise-fed, deluded throng,
Who bow'd fo low, who bow'd fo long,
And at your levees waited-
Commons and peers alike are gone,
Your very bishops too are flown,
To Ge, to be tranflated.
III.
When age comes on, and bufinefs fails,
The caft-off harlot weeps and rails,
Yet ftill would fain be cooing;
To bring new lovers to her arms,
Ogles, coquets, repairs her charms,
Old women will be doing.
IV.
So you ftill fmirk and nod the head,
But all in vain, your charms are fled,
The tongue of flattery ceases;
In vain you strive to raise a flame,
Though paft the pow'r you love the game-
With age
defire increases.
All to St. Ja-'s now repair,
Where virtue with her modeft air
Each raptur'd bosom fires
She never jilts, she ne'er betrays,
But always means the thing the fays,
And love and joy infpires.
VI.
With native charms in blooming youth,
With fpirit, gentleness and truth,
All ftrive to woo and win her;
While, to your batter'd person cold,
They scorn the arts of one so old,
So impotent a finner.
Yon op'ning rofe, fecure from blight,
Will charm the fenfe, attract the fight;
And throw its fweets about-
While fapless wood but makes a blaze,
Which boys attend with loud huzzas,
And then in fmoke goes out.
Portrait of JOHN, Earl Granville. By the Honourable H. W.
Ommanding beauty, fmooth'd by chearful grace,
Sat on the open features of his face :
Bold was his language, rapid, glowing, ftrong,
And science flow'd fpontaneous from his tongue.
A genius, feizing fyftems, flighting rules,
And void of gall, with boundless fcorn of fools.
Ambition dealt her flambeau to his hand,
And Bacchus fprinkled fuel on the brand.
His wifh- to counsel monarchs, or controul;
His means-↑
-th' impetuous ardour of his foul:
For, while his views outftript a mortal span,
Nor prudence drew, nor craft purfu'd the plan.
Swift fell the fcaffold of his airy pride,
But, flightly built, diffus'd no ruin wide.
Unhurt, undaunted, undifturb'd he fell,
Could laugh the fame, and the fame ftories tell :
And more a fage than he, who bad await
His revels, till his conquefts were compleat,
Our jovial statesman either fail unfurl'd,
And drank his bottle, tho' he miss'd the world!
STANZAS to the Right Hon. C. T Efq; By a Friends
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