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HETHER amid the gloom of night I stray,
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 folid globe beats back the funny rays,
Whether thofe ftars, that twinkling lustre send,
But this we know, that Heaven's eternal King,
The fpreading dawn another shepherd spies,
The stars shall drop, the sun shall lose his flame;
ERE the foundations of the world were laid,
Ere kindling light th' Almighty word obey'd,
Th' immortal foul fhares but a part of thee;
Ah! what is life? with ills encompafs'd round,
Then feeble age will all thy nerves difarm,
The virtuous foul pursues a nobler aim,
For, while the boundless theme extends our thought, Ten thousand thousand rolling years are nought.
EPIGRAMMATICAL EXPOSTULATION *.
ROM Mohock and from Hawkubite,
Who wander through the ftreets by night,
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.
BY E-WORD S.
ERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd
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;
A MOTT O
FOR THE OPERA OF MUTIUS SCÆVOLA *,
WHO here blames words, or verfes, fongs, or
Like Mutius Scævola will burn his fingers.
* An opera by Mr. Rolli, performed in 1721.