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LOLLIUS, with head bent back and close-shut eyes,
All service-time devoutly snoring lies.
Its great dislike in fies! the parish speaks,
And wonders Lollius thus the sabbath breaks.
But I think Lollius keeps the sabbath best,
For why he makes it still a day of rest.
VAGUS, advanced on high, proclaims his skill
By cakes of wonderous force the worms to kill ;
A scornful ear the wiser sort impart
And laugh at Vagus's pretended art;
But well can Vagus what he boasts perform,
For Man, as Job has told us, is a Worm.
A fellow student of Watts and Hughes, at a dissenting
Academy. He published Poems and two Essays on Metre, 4to. He was an amiable man, and an ornament to his profession. It is curious to find in one of his sermons, that he has said more on the true principles of the “Graces,” than is to be found in all the laboured letters of Lord Chesterfield.
To a Lady working a Flowered Petticoat for Cecilia.
Blest garment, that shall those soft limbs enfold,
Proud of thy flowing train and mingled gold :
And blest the hands, whose artful fingers form
The mystick stories which that robe adorn!
Oh ! had but Nature more my make refined,
And with the man the female softness join'd;
Then undistinguish'd might my shape remain,
Like Thetis' son amid the virgin train :
Then for her wear my needle should have wrought
Embroider'd figures by my passion tauglit.
Love would direct my artless hands, and guide
The slender thread thro’ the fine woof to slide.
Here I, my sex conceal'd, the gentle fire, .
Would into her unwary breast inspire,
While near me the bright Dame (affected pride
And modest virgin-blushes laid aside),
In native innocence secure should stand,
Commend my labours, and approve my hand.
What nor my pen, nor faultering tongue could
The bolder Needle, fearless, should declare;
And the dumb shadow's silent voice proclaim
My humble love, and court the haughty dame.
The Dream. Addressed to Morpheus.
O THOU! that with thy drowsy wand
Canst wakeful eyes to rest command;
Suspend the lover's anxious care,
And make a truce with black Despair.
While thy mimick power, of shapes
Numberless, that in the cell
Of the busy Fancy dwell,
Pleasing dreams and visions makes.
Tell me from what glorious store
Thou hast brought the richest form
That did ever night adorn,
Or visit sleeping minds before.
So like Belphebe, so divine
Did the beauteous image shine,
Wretched Timias thought him blest;
Of the heavenly Dame possest.
Sweet it look'd, and so it smiled
As when first th' indulgent maid,
My unweary heart beguild,
And to fatal love betray'd.
Sleep! why shou'd'st thou thus deceive
One too easy to believe ?
Why with his vain hopes conspire
To flatter thus his fond desire ?
Rather let him see disdain'
In her angry looks appear ;
In her eyes the tokens clear
Of sad resolves t'encrease his pain,
Let some hated Ghost, whose pride
Thousand hapless souls have sigh’d,
That knows to frown, put on the face,
And Belphæbe's borrow'd grace.
Bid the haughty Shadow come,
In her voice and in her mien
An unusual fierceness seen Sternly to pronounce his doom,
Then, perhaps, from hopeless love
Thou his wretched mind may’st move ;
Or thy brother Death release,
Whom in vain you strive to ease.
But if the hand, that should save,
Never will the cure apply, Let him then sleep in his grave;
Let a wretch despair and die !
But if you with pow'rful art,
Can soften minds, and change the thought ; .
That Belphebe may be brought
To sigh, and love, and feel my smart.