√. Now by swifteft Zephyrs drawn, Nor let one figh for his own fuff'rings rise; Each human fuff'ring fills his fympathizing eyes. Venus from Æneas' fide With fuccessful efforts try'd To extract th' envenom'd dart, That baffled wife Iapis' art, If thus, HYGEIA, thou couldft prove Now on thy favour'd HEBERDEN bestow Thy choiceft healing pow'rs, for Pallas asks them now. VII. What tho', banish'd from the fight, To the hero's troubled fight Ranks on ranks tumultuous rofe Of flying friends and conqu'ring foes; He only panted to obtain A laurel Wreath for thousands slain; On nobler views intent, the SAGE's mind Pants to delight, inftruct, and humanife mankind. S 3 *Author of Clarifa. A A VERNAL OD E. Sent to his Grace the Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY, March 12, 1754. B [BY FRANCIS FAWKES, A. M.] I. RIGHT god of day, whofe genial power Revives the buried feed, That spreads with foliage every bower, With verdure every mead, Bid all thy vernal breezes fly, Diffufing mildness thro' the sky; Give the foft Seafon to our drooping plains, Sprinkled with rofy dews, and falutary rains, II. Enough has Winter's hand fevere Hurl'd all his terrors round, Give but thy vital beams to play, The frozen scenes will melt away; And, mix'd in fprightly dance, the blooming Hours Will 'wake the drowsy Spring, andSpring awake the flowers, III. Let III. Let Health, gay daughter of the skies, And scatter pleasures as she flies Where Surry's downs extend; There HERRING wooes her friendly power, To heal that shepherd all her balms employ, IV. Ah me! that Virtue's godlike friends So foon are claim'd by Fate ! Lo! PELHAM to the grave defcends, The bulwark of the state: When will fair Truth his equal find Among the best of human-kind? Long be the fatal day with mourning kept! AUGUSTUS figh'd fincere, and all the worthy wept. V. Thy delegate, kind heaven, restore To health, and safely keep; Let good AUGUSTUS figh no more, And still upon the royal head Eftablish'd with his counsellors around, Long be his profp'rous reign, and all with glory crown'd. The Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Efq; died on the 6th of March 1754. An AUTUMNAL ODE. By the Same. YE I. ET once more, glorious god of day, O let me warbling court thy ftay Bright Summer to perfection bring, The cold, inclement days of Winter chear, And make th' Autumnal months the mildeft of the year. II. Ere yet the ruffet foliage fall, I'll climb the mountain's brow, My friend, my Hayman, at thy call, To view the scene below: How sweetly pleasing to behold Forefts of vegetable gold! How mix'd the many checker'd fhades between The tawny mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green! III. How III How fplendid all the fky! how ftill! How foft the whispers of the rill It feems the Sabbath of the year; Such is of well-fpent life the time, Man verging gradual from his prime, His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er, He gains pacific Autumn, meek and bland, And dauntless braves the ftroke of Winter's palfy'd hand. V. For yet a while, a little while, Involv'd in wint'ry gloom, And lo! another Spring shall smile, Then shall he fhine, a glorious guest, In the bright mansions of the blest, Where due rewards on Virtue are bestow'd, And reap the golden fruits of what his Autumn fow'd. Α |