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'clock, and feems to have no connection with it, but from which a communication is fecretly conveyed to a hammer, that regularly ftrikes the hour, and repeats the fame at pleasure, by touching a diamond button fixed to the clock below. At the feet of the lady is a gold dog; before which, from the point of the chariot, are two birds fixed on fpiral fprings; the wings and feathers of which are fet with ftones of various colours, and appear as if flying away

with the chariot, which, from another fecret motion, is contrived to run in a strait, circular, or any other direction; a boy that lay's hold of the chariot behind, feems alfo to push it forward. Above the umbrella are flowers, and or naments of pearls, rubies, and other ftones, and it terminates with a flying dragon, fet in the fame manner. The whole is of gold, moft curiously executed, and embellished with diamonds, rubies, and pearls.

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POETRY.

An EPISTLE from the celebrated ABBE DE RANCE to a friend: written at the Abbey of LA TRAPPE.

Paraphrafed from MONSIEUR BARTHE, by DANIEL HAYES, Efq; ARGUMEN T.

T HE converfion of the celebrated Abbé de Rancé, is attributed to the death of the Duchefs of M-whom he tenderly loved. He had been abfent from her fome time, and was quite ignorant of her death; having got into the houfe under cover of the night, he went into her apartment by a back ftair-cafe. The firft object that appeared to his view was a coffin, which contained the body of his miftrefs: fhe had died after three days violent illness. As he was to be interred in the family-vault, a leaden coffin was prepared; but it was too fhort, and with unheard of brutality they fevered the head from the body, Struck with fo fhocking an event, from that inftant the Abbé de Rancé renounced all commerce with the world. He retired to the monaftery of la Trappe, where he became a moft rigid penitent. It is from thence he writes to a friend who had long been upon his travels, and is ignorant of this tragical adventure. Some works having lately appeared relating to the monaftery of la Trappe, the author thought this a favourable occafion to produce his own, written long fince,

I

Warm from the heart, and true to all its fires.

Know too well thy heart will overflow,
To think thy friend is doom'd to ling'ring wo.

To think the vigour of his age is loft,

And all the hopes his earthly days could boast.

Yet ceafe to grieve- Whate'er feems good or great
In courts, I find in this fequefter'd feat.
Beneath an awful oak I fit refign'd,

I blefs the rains, and welcome in the wind;

With my loan ftate those deserts best

agree,

And nature's rudeft form moft pleases me:

Here frequent pray'rs my doubts and fears difpel,
I spurn the earth, and triumph over hell;

And here at dawn my orifons begin

For Laura

-if fo pure a form could fin.

O name

name for ever lov'd, for ever bieft! For ever treafur'd in this faithful breast!

Tho' long, long fince the flame of youth is fled,
And heav'n now warns me to my neighb'ring dead;
Thy dear remembrance roufes mad defire,

And for a moment all my foul's on fire.

My dearest friend, to thee her charms were known,
Ere yet the knew to call those charms her own;
The polish'd form, the dignity of mien,

So oft affected, yet so rarely seen :
The eafy wit, the animating grace,

And guitlefs fmiles that revel'd on her face.
Yet, at thofe years when pleasure gives the rein,
And love and riot dance in every vein,

Her fpeaking eye each rude attempt fuppreft,
Nor heav'n itself was chafter than her breaft,

I faw, I lov'd, and oft in fighs convey'd
My fears and wishes to the blufhing maid;
Each dawning blush my raging paflion fed,
And more and more to sweet deftruction led;
Till bolder grown the happiest hour I ftole,
And spoke the fecret of my panting foul.
Tho' low my ftate, no ftern disdain deprest
My fuit, (the faw my heart, and judg'd the reft,)
But glances, fuch as pitying angels give
To dying finners, bade me hope and live.

Her parents faw; and rigidly fevere,
Convey'd from Paris all my foul held dear;
Rack'd for a moon I liv'd a plague to earth,
And curs'd th'ill- boding ftar that rul'd my birth.
When, loft in grief no language can exprefs,
A tender line difclos'd her lone recefs;
I look'd and read, again I look'd and read,
And fwift as lightning to th'appointment fped.
'Twas night, dead night, I fcal'd the filent wall,
I gain'd her chamber: love conducted all.

I thought to press my lovely Laura's charms,
And melt tranfported in her glowing arms:
When (hold my heart) a lonely coffin ftood;
The floor, the marble ftain'd with recent blood;
A feeble taper ftream'd a twinkling light,
And barely ferv'd to prove the hideous fight;
I rais'd a veil; the taper juf betray'd
A headlefs corpfe; yet ftill I knew the maid;

Her

Her polish'd form th'unrival'd fair expreft,
And well, too well, I knew her snowy breast.

A marble vafe ftood near, I turn'd around,
I rais'd another veil-her head I found;
O killing fight! thofe once-commanding eyes,
Thofe lips once ting'd with nature's richest dyes,
That cheek, that boasted spring's delightful bloom,
That breath, more sweet than fummer's rich perfume;
That general grace, that ftruck the wondering fight,
All, all oppreft by long and joyless night.

I fcarce believ'd my fense, I gaz'd around,
While horror fix'd me torpid to the ground;
I grafp'd my fword, refolv'd to end my wo,
But gracious heav'n roftrain'd the impious blow;
Then from the fcene, with tottering steps I fled,
And gain'd my dwelling lefs alive than dead.

If there exifts fome far fequefter'd sphere,
(I madly fpoke,) fome dæmon whirl me there;
Where ne'er the bell of pale Religion rung,
No gift was offer'd, and no anthem fung;
No friendly talk to cheer the heavy hours,
Nor hope to spread her gay delufive pow'rs;
O bear me quickly to the welcome den,
Alike forlorn by providence and men.

God of my life! on that disastrous day
I felt, I own'd thy animating ray,
Thy hand paternal gave my pangs to reft,
And kindled nobler vifions in my breast;
I saw myself corrupted all within,
And gaz'd with horror on my daring fin;
I paus'd on Death, on Hell's tremendous gloem,
And vaft Eternity's unbounded womb;
I faw the truly good were only bleft,
And all this world grofs vanity at beft;
I faw injuftice every law controul,

And luft and rapine 'fnare th' unwary foul;
I faw each paffion tend to certain wo,

And (worfe) that human pride difdain'd to know;
Scar'd at the view, I fled those scenes of death,
And gave my foul to him who gave me breath.

Refolv'd,

Refolv'd, refign'd, this wild recefs I fought,
With scenes for holy contemplation fraught;
The rude, rough rocks, remind me to obey,
The doddering oaks forewarn me of decay;
And I, who first by fierce ambition fir❜ð,
Blind youth impell'd, and vanity infpir'd,
The fober charms of folitude despis'd,

Nor aught but fin, and fulfome pleasure priz'd,
The lewd appointment, and the midnight-ball,
At length find reft, and find within this wall.

Here flock the train, to whom indulgent heav'n
The precious gift of penitence has given;
Those who, with vows, in early youth, betray'd
To fin or death, the fond believing maid,
Allur'd the easy matron's nuptial flame,

Then spread the tale, and triumph'd in her shame;
Opprefs'd the weak, carous'd in orphans tears,
And doom'd to friendless want, their helpless years;
Sapp'd private peace, engender'd public ftrife,
And arm'd the hand against a brother's life;
Bore down each virtue, marr'd each focial end,
And e'en the wretch who wrong'd a trufting friend,
When cloyster'd here, feel heav'n's infpiring breath,
Nor fear to triumph o'er eternal death.

For this we ftrive: long, long ere morn appears,
We rife, we pray, we bathe the ground with tears,
Then hafte to labour, drain the putrid fen,
Or break th'ungrateful grounds of other men ;
Th'unheeded roots we gather, yield us bread,
The fpring our beverage, and the earth our bed;
When midnight hour to new devotion calls,
We rife with awe, and bless those reverend walls,
Where faints and martyrs kifs'd the chaftening rod,
Defpis'd the world, and reited on their God.
No gilded roofs, no filver lamps appear,
But one poor torch, yet God himself is here.
Let pride unlock ambition's fanguine springs,
And wafted nations curfe defpotic kings;
No ftern alarms this lone retreat in eft,
We live in peace, and peaceful fink to reft.

In peace !-Who lov'd like me, and lov'd in vain,
Muft ne'er enjoy that virgin's golden reign;
O no he flies Corruption's tainted den,
And sheds her bleffed balm on guiltless men.-

When

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