The mother, lovely, though with grief op-
preft,
Reclin'd his dying head upon her breaft.
The mournful family ftood all around;
One groan was heard, one univerfal found:
All were in floods of tears and endless forrow
drown'd.
So dire a fadness fat on every look,
E'en Death repented he had given the stroke.
He griev'd his fatal work had been ordain'd,
But promis'd length of life to those who yet re-
main'd.
The mother's and her eldest daughter's grace,
It seems, had brib'd him to prolong their space.
The father bore it with undaunted foul,
Like one who durft his destiny controul :
Yet with becoming grief he bore his part,
Refign'd his fon, but not refign'd his heart.
Patient as Job; and may he live to fee,
Like him, a new increasing family!
Such is my wifh, and fuch my prophecy, For yet, my friend, the beauteous mould re
Long may the exercife her fruitful pains!
But, ah! with better hap, and bring a race
More lafting, and endu'd with equal grace!
Equal the may, but farther none can go:
For he was all that was exact below.
Damon, behold yon breaking purple cloud; Hear'ft thou not hymns and fongs divinely
There mounts Amyntas; the
About their godlike mate, and fing him on his
He cleaves the liquid air, behold, he flies, 70
And every moment gains upon the skies.
The new-come gueft admires the ætherial ftate,
The faphir portal, and the golden gate;
And now admitted in the fhining throng,
He thows the paffport which he brought along.
His paffport is his innocence and grace,
Well known to all the natives of the place.
Now fing, ye joyful angels, and admire
Your brother's voice that comes to mend
Sing you, while endless tears our eyes bestow; For like Amyntas none is left below.
Ver. 81. For like Amyntas] This paftoral is very unworthy of our author.
HE who could view the book of destiny,
And read whatever there was writ of thee,
O charming youth, in the first opening page,
So many graces in fo green an age,
Such wit, fuch modefty, fuch ftrength of mind,
A foul at once fo manly, and fo kind;
Would wonder, when he turn'd the volume o'er,
And after fome few leaves fhould find no more,
Nought but a blank remain, a dead void space,
A step of life that promis'd fuch a race.
We must not, dare not think, that Heaven
began
A child, and could not finish him a man;
Reflecting what a mighty store was laid
Of rich materials, and a model made:
The coft already furnish'd; fo bestow'd,
As more was never to one foul allow'd:
Yet after this profufion spent in vain,
Nothing but mouldering afhes to remain,
I guess not, left I split upon the shelf,
Yet durft I guess, Heaven kept it for himself ;
And giving us the ufe, did foon recal,
Ere we could fpare, the mighty principal.
Thus then he disappear'd, was rarify'd;
For 'tis improper fpeech to fay he dy'd:
He was exhal'd; his great Creator drew
His fpirit, as the fun the morning dew.
'Tis fin produces death; and he had none,
But the taint Adam left on every fon.
He added not, he was fo pure, fo good,
'Twas but the original forfeit of his blood: 30
And that fo little, that the river ran
More clear than the corrupted fount began.
Nothing remain'd of the first muddy clay;
The length of course had wash'd it in the way:
So deep, and yet fo clear, we might behold 35
The gravel bottom, and that bottom gold.
As fuch we lov'd, admir'd, almost ador'd,
Gave all the tribute mortals could afford.
Perhaps we gave fo much, the powers above
Grew angry at our fuperftitious love:
For when we more than human homage pay,
The charming caufe is juftly fnatch'd away.
Thus was the crime not his, but ours alone And yet we murmur that he went fo foon ; 44 Though miracles are short and rarely shown.
Learn then, ye mournful parents, and divide That love in many, which in one was ty❜d. That individual bleffing is no more, But multiply'd in your remaining store.
The flame's difpers'd, but does not all expire; The sparkles blaze, though not the globe of
Love him by parts, in all your numerous race, And from those parts form one collected grace; Then, when you have refin'd to that degree, Imagine all in one, and think that one is he. 55
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