THE SORROWS OF LIFE.
OH! what a vaft variety of ills
Lurk in the path ordain'd for wretched man! Firft, PLEASURE lures him to the gaudy track, And tempts him with the glare of worldly joys; With youth and wealth, and what is ftill more dear, The blefs'd return of fond requited love!
Then JEALOUSY wrings hard each tortur'd nerve,
While fancy bids a new creation rife,
Of demons hideous, that distract his foul!
DESPAIR ufurps each avenue of sense,
And drives him head-long from his peaceful home,
To feek for GLORY 'midft the fields of death.
Oh! then deceitful HOPE prefents new joys;
While FAME's gay trophies hide his fading brow;
Soon from the glowing height of conquest fall'n,
Th' inevitable GRAVE arrefts his courfe,
And wretched man returns again to DUST.
ON MARGARET RATCLIFFE.
MARBLE, weep, for thou doft cover
A dead beauty underneath thee,
Rich as nature could bequeath thee :
Grant then, no rude hand remove her.
All the gazers on the fkies
Read not in fair heav'n's story
E xpreffer truth, or truer glory,
Then they might in her bright eyes.
R are as wonder was her wit;
A nd, like Nectar, ever flowing:
Till time, ftrong by her beftowing,
Conquer'd hath both life and it ;
Life, whofe grief was out of fashion
In these times. Few have fo ru'd
Fate in a brother. To conclude,
For wit, feature, and true paffion,
Earth, thou haft not such another.
FROM HARMONY, from heav'nly HARMONY,
This univerfal frame began:
When nature underneath a heap
Of jarring atoms lay,
And could not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
Arife! ye more than dead.
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their ftations leap,
And MUSIC's pow'r obey.
From HARMONY, from heav'nly HARMONY,
This univerfal frame began:
From HARMONY to HARMONY
Through all the compafs of the notes it ran,
The diapafon clofing full in man.
What paffion cannot MUSIC raise and quell?
When JUBAL ftruck the chorded thell,
His lift'ning brethren ftood around,
And, wond'ring, on their faces fell,
To worship that celeftial found.
Lefs than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that fhell,
That spoke so sweetly and fo well.
What paffion cannot MUSIC raife and quell?
The TRUMPET's loud clangor
Excites us to arms,
With fhrill notes of anger
And mortal alarms.
The double, double, double beat
Of the thund'ring DRUM
Cries, hark! the foe's come;
Charge! charge! 'tis too late to retreat.
The foft complaining FLUTE
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whofe dirge is whifper'd by the warbling LUTE.
Sharp VIOLINS proclaim
Their jealous pangs, and defperation,
Fury, frantic, indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion,
For the fair, difdainful dame.
But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach,
The facred ORGAN'S praife?
Notes infpiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heav'nly ways
To mend the choirs above.
ORPHEUS could lead the favage race;
And tree's up-rooted left their place,
Sequacious of the LYRE
But bright CECILIA rais'd the wonder higher :
When to her ORGAN Vocal breath was giv'n,
An angel heard, and straight appear'd,
Miftaking earth for heav'n.
As from the pow'r of facred lays,
The fpheres began to move,
And fung the great Creator's praise
To all the blefs'd above;
So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant fhall devour,
The TRUMPET fhall be heard on high,
The dead fhall live, the living die,
And MUSIC shall untune the iky.
WHO fhall awake the SPARTAN fife
And call in folemn founds to life, The youths, whofe locks divinely fpreading, Like vernal hyacinths in fullen hue, At once the breath of fear and virtue fhedding, Applauding FREEDOM lov'd of old to view? What new ALCEUS, fancy-bleft,
Shall fing the fword in myrtles drest,
At wifdom's fhrine awhile its flame concealing, (What place fo fit to feal a deed renown'd?) Till the her brighteft lightnings round revealing, It leap'd in glory forth, and dealt her prompted
O goddess, in that feeling hour;
When moft its founds would court thy ears,
Let not my fhell's mifguided pow'r,
E'er draw thy fad, thy mindful tears.
No, FREEDOM, no, I will not tell,
HOW ROME, before thy face,
With heaviest found, a giant-statue, fell,
Pufh'd by a wild and artless race,
From off its wide ambitious base,
When time his northern fons of spoil awoke,
And all the blended work of ftrength and grace,
With many a rude repeated ftroke,
And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke.
Yet, ev'n, where'er the leaft appear'd,
Th' admiring world thy hand rever'd;
Still, 'midft the fcatter'd states around,
Some remnants of her ftrength were found;
They faw, by what efcap'd the ftorm,
How wond'rous rofe her perfect form;
How in the great, the labour'd whole,
Each mighty mafter pour'd his foul;
For funny FLORENCE, feat of art,
Beneath her vines preferv'd a part,
Till they, whom Science lov'd to name,
(O, who could fear it ?) quench'd her flame.
And, lo! an humbler relic laid
In jealous PISA's olive shade!
See, finall MARINO joins the theme,
Though leaft, not laft in thy esteem;
Strike! louder strike! th' ennobling ftrings
To thofe, whofe merchant fons were kings;
To him, who, deck'd with pearly pride,
In ADRIA weds his green-hair'd bride:
Hail port of glory, wealth, and pleasure,
Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure:
Nor e'er his former pride relate,
To fad LIGURIA's bleeding state.
Ah, no! more pleas'd thy haunts I feek,
(On wild HELVETIA'S mountains bleak:
Where, when the favour'd of thy choice,
The daring archer heard thy voice;
Forth from his eyrie rous'd in dread,
The rav'ning eagle northward fled.)
Or, dwell in willow'd meads more near,
With those to whom thy STORK is dear:
Those whom the rod of ALVA bruis'd,
Whofe crown a British Queen refus'd!
The magic works, thou feel'ft the strains,
One holier name alone remains :
The perfect fpell shall then avail,
Hail nymph, ador'd by BRITAIN, hail!
Beyond the measure vaft of thought,
The works, the wizard time has wrought!
The GAUL, 'tis held of antique ftory,
Saw BRITAIN link'd to his now adverfe ftrand,
No fea between, nor cliff fublime and hoary,
He pafs'd with unwet feet through all our land.
To the blown BALTIC then, they say,
The wild waves found another way,
Where ORCAS howls, his wolfish mountains rounding;
Till all the banded weft at once 'gan rife,
A wide wild storm ev'n nature's felf confounding,
With'ring her giant fons with strange uncouth
furprise.
This pillar'd earth, fo firm and wide,
By winds and inward labours torn,
In thunders dread was push'd aside,
And down the fhould'ring billows borne.
And fee, like gems, her laughing train,
The little ifles on ev'ry fide,
MONA, once hid from those who fearch the main, Where thousand elfin shapes abide,
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