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Unhurt by sickness' blasting rage,
But, conscious of his distance, gives And slowly mellowing in age,
Mute praise, and humble negatives When Fate extends its gathering gripe,
In one, no object of our sight, Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe,
Immutable, and infinite, Quit a worn being without pain,
Who can't be cruel or unjust, Perhaps to blossom soon again.
Calm and resign'd, I fix my trust; But now more serious see me grow,
To him my past and present state And what I think, my Memmius, know.
I owe, and must my future fate. Th' enthusiast's hope, and raptures wild, A stranger into life I'm come, Have never yet my reason foil'd.
Dying may be our going home, His springy soul dilates like air,
Transported here by angry Fate, When free from weight of ambient care,
The convicts of a prior state. And, hush'd in meditation deep,
Hence I no anxious thoughts bestow Slides into dreams, as when asleep;
On matters I can never know; Then, fond of new discoveries grown,
Through life's foul way, like vagrant pass'd, Proves a Columbus of her own,
He'll grant a settlement at last, Disdains the narrow bounds of place,
And with sweet ease the wearied crown, And through the wilds of endless space,
By leave to lay his being down. Borne up on metaphysic wings,
If doom'd to dance th' eternal round Chases light forms and shadowy things,
Of life no sooner lost but found, And in the vague excursion caught,
And dissolution soon to come, Brings home some rare exotic thought.
Like sponge, wipes out life's present sum, The melancholy man such dreams,
But can't our state of pow'r bereave As brightest evidence, esteems;
An endless series to receive; Fain would he see some distant scene
Then, if hard dealt with here by Fate, Suggested by his restless Spleen,
We balance in another state, And Fancy's telescope applies
And consciousness must go along, With tinctur'd glass to cheat his eyes.
And sign th' acquittance for the wrong. Such thoughts, as love the gloom of night,
He for his creatures must decree I close examine by the light;
More happiness than misery, For who, though brib'd by gain to lie,
Or be supposed to create, Dare sun-beam-written truths deny,
Curious to try, what 't is to hate : And execute plain common sense
And do an act, which rage infers, On faith's mere hearsay evidence?
'Cause lameness halts, or blindness erts. That superstition mayn't create,
Thus, thus I steer my bark, and sail And club its ills with those of Fate,
On even keel with gentle gale; I many a notion take to task,
At helm I make my reason sit, Made dreadful by its visor-mask.
My crew of passions all submit. Thus scruple, spasm of the mind,
If dark and blust'ring prove some nights, Is cur'd, and certainty I find.
Philosophy puts forth her lights; Since optic reason shows me plain,
Experience holds the cautious glass, I dreaded spectres of the brain.
To shun the breakers, as I pass, And legendary fears are gone,
And frequent throws the wary lead, Though in tenacious childhood sown.
To see what dangers may be hid; Thus in opinions I commence
And once in seven years I'm seen Freeholder in the proper sense,
At Bath or Tunbridge, to careen. And neither suit nor service do,
Though pleas'd to see the dolphins play, Nor homage to pretenders show,
I mind my compass and my way, Who boast themselves by spurious roll
With store sufficient for relief, Lords of the manor of the soul ;
And wisely still prepar'd to reef, Preferring sense, from chin that's bare,
Nor wanting the dispersive bowl To nonsense thron'd in whisker'd hair.
Of cloudy weather in the soul, To thee, Creator uncreate,
I make, (may Heav'n propitious send O Entium Ens ! divinely great !
Such wind and weather to the end) Hold, Muse, nor melting pinions try,
Neither becalm'd, nor over-blown,
Life's voyage to the world unknown.
Here 'tis the soul feels sudden youth,
And meets exulting, virgin Truth ; ON BARCLAY'S APOLOGY FOR THE Here, like a breeze of gentlest kind, QUAKERS.
Impulses rustle through the mind;
Here shines that light with glowing face, These sheets primeval doctrines yield,
The fuse divine, that kindles grace ; Where revelation is reveal’d;
Which, if we trim our lamps, will last, Soul-phlegm from literal feeding bred,
'Till darkness be by dying past. Systems lethargic to the head
And then goes out at end of night, They purge, and yield a diet thin,
Extinguish'd by superior light. That turns to gospel-chyle within.
Ah me! the beats and colds of life, Truth sublimate may here be seen
Pleasure's and pain's eternal strife, Extracted from the parts terrene.
Breed stormy passions, which confin'd, In these is shown, how men obtain
Shake, like th' Æolian cave, the mind. What of Prometheus poets feign :
And raise despair ; my lamp can last, To scripture plainness dress is brought,
Plac'd where they drive the furious blast. And speech, apparel to the thought.
False eloquence ! big empty sound! They hiss from instinct at red coats,
Like showers that rush upon the ground ! And war, whose work is cutting throats,
Little beneath the surface goes, Forbid, and press the law of love :
All streams along, and muddy flows. Breathing the spirit of the dove.
This sinks, and swells the buried grain, Lucrative doctrines they detest,
And fructifies like southern rain. As manufactur'd by the priest ;
His art, well hid in mild discourse, And throw down turnpikes, where we pay
Exerts persuasion's winning force, For stuff, which never mends the way;
And nervates so the good design, And tythes, a Jewish tax, reduce,
That king Agrippa's case is inine. And frank the gospel for our use.
Well-natur'd, happy shade forgive ! They sable standing armies break;
Like you I think, but cannot live. But the militia useful make :
Thy scheme requires the world's contempt, Since all unhir'd may preach and pray,
That from dependence life exempt ;
And constitution fram'd so strong,
Not such my lot, not Fortune's brat,
I live by pulling off the hat ; Such is its bustle and its noise ;
Compellid by station every hour Reason the proclamation reads,
To bow to images of power ; But not one riot passion heeds.
And in life's busy scenes immers'd, Wealth, honour, power the graces are,
See better things, and do the worst. Which here below our homage share :
Eloquent Want, whose reasons sway, They, if one votary they find
And make ten thousand truths give way, To mistress more divine inclin'd,
While I your scheme with pleasure trace, In truth's pursuit, to cause delay,
and stares me in the face. Throw golden apples in his way,
“ Consider well your state," she cries, Place me, O Heav'n, in some retreat;
“ Like others kneel, that you may rise ; There let the serious death-watch beat,
Hold doctrines, by no scruples vex’d, There let me self in silence shun,
To which preferment is annex'd ; To feel thy will, which should be done.
Nor madly prove, where all depends, Then comes the Spirit to our hut,
Idolatry upon your friends. When fast the senses' doors are shut;
See, how you like my rueful face, For so divine and pure a guest
Such you must wear, if out of place. The emptiest rooms are furnish'd best.
Crack'd is your brain to turn recluse O Contemplation ! air serene !
Without one farthing out at use. From damps of sense, and fogs of spleen !
They, who have lands, and safe bank-stock, Pure mount of thought ! thrice holy ground, With faith so founded on a rock, Where grace, when waited for, is found.
May give a rich invention ease,
And construe scripture how they please. • This celebrated book was written by its author, “ The honour'd prophet that of old, th in Latin and English, and was afterwards Us'd Heav'n's high counsels to unfold, nslated into High Dutch, Low Dutch, French, Did, more than courier angels, greet d Spanish, and probably into other languages. The crows, that brought him bread and mcat." has always been esteemed a very ingenious deice of the principles of Quakerism, even by those o deny the doctrines which it endeavours to estash. The author was born at Edinburgh in 1648, d received part of his education at the Scots Colre in Paris, where his uncle was principal. His
THE SEEKER. her became one of the earliest converts to the w sect, and from his example, the son seems to When I first came to London, I rambled about, ve been induced to tread in his stes. He died From sermon to sermon, took a slice and went out. the sd of October, 1690, in the of his Then on me, in divinity bachelor, try'd
And urging their various opinions, intended
Say, father Thames, whose gentle pace To make me wed systems, which they recom
Gives leave to view what beauties grace mended.
Your flow'ry banks, if you have seen Said a lech'rous old fri'r skulking near Lincoln's The much-sung Grotto of the queen. inn,
Contemplative, forget awhile
And Wolsey's pride † (his greatest guilt)
Brow-beats your flood, look cross the way, Hear a church that can't err, if you hope for sal And view, from highest swell of tide, vation."
The milder scenes of Surrey side. Said a formal non-con, (whose rich stock of Though yet no palace grace the shore, grace
To lodge that pair you should adore ; Lies forward expos'd in shop-window of face,) Nor abbeys, great in ruin, rise, “ Ah! pity your soul : come, be of our sect : Royal equivalents for vice; For then you are safe, and may plead you're elect. Behold a grot, in Delphic grove, As it stands in the Acts, we can prove ourselves The Graces' and the Muses. love. saints,
(0, might our laureat study here,
A temple from vain glories free,
The only pilgrimage I know,
Which sweet abode, her wisest choice, And surely in medio tutissimus ibis."
Urania cheers with heavenly voice, Said a yea and nay friend, with a stiff hat and While all the Virtues gather round, band,
To see her consecrate the ground. (Who while he talk'd gravely would hold forth his If thou, the god with winged feet, hand,)
In council talk of this retreat, « Dominion and wealth are the aim of all three, And jealous gods resentment show Though about ways and means they may all dis At altars rais'd to men below; agree;
Tell those proud lords of Heaven, 'tis fit
While each exists, as poets sing,
Needless it is in terms unskill'd
To praise whatever Boyle & shall build;
Needless it is the busts to name
Four chiefs adorn the modest stones,
For Virtue as for learning known; PETER DRAKE, A FISHERMAN OF BRENTFORD.
The thinking sculpture helps to raise Printed in the Year 1732, but not published.
Deep thoughts, the genii of the place : Scilicet hic possis curvo dignoscere rectum,
† Hampton Court, begun by Cardinal Wolket, Atque inter silvas Academi quærere verum.
and improved by King William III. Hox.
| Queen Anne, consort to King Richard II. and
Queen Elizabeth, both died at Richmond.
|| Sion House is now a seat belonging
Duke of Northumberland.
§ Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington, 3 nobleADIEU awhile, forsaken flood,
man remarkable for his fine taste in architecture. To ramble in the Delian wood,
“ Never were protection and great wealth mere And pray the god my well-meant song
generously and judiciously diffused than by this May not my subject's merit wrong.
great person, who had every quality of a genius
and artist, except envy.” He died December 4. • A building in Richmond Gardens, erected by
1753. Queen Caroline, and committed to the custody of q The author should have said five; there being Stephen Duck. At the time this poem was written the busts of Newton, Locke, Wollaston, Clarke, many other verses appeared on the same subject. and Boyle.
the mind's ear, and inward sight,
Nor sleepless mind the death-watch beat ; "heir silence speaks, and shade gives light : In taper find no winding-sheet : while insects from the threshold preach,
Nor in burnt coal a coffin see, *d minds dispos’d to musing teach :
Though thrown at others, meant for thee : oud of strong limbs and painted hues,
Or when the coruscation gleams, ey perish by the slightest bruise ;
Find out not first the bloody streams; maladies, begun within,
Nor in imprest remembrance keep •stroy more slow life's frail machine;
Grim tap'stry figures wrought in sleep ; om maggot-youth through change of state, Nor rise to see in antique hall ey feel like us the turns of fate;
The moonlight monsters on the wall, me born to creep have liv’d to fly,
And shadowy spectres darkly pass nd change earth-cells for dwellings high ; Trailing their sables o'er the grass, ad some that did their six wings keep,
Let vice and guilt act how they please fore they dy'd been forc'd to creep ;
In souls, their conquer'd provinces; ey politics like ours profess,
By Heaven's just charter it appears, e greater prey upon the less :
Virtue's exempt from quartering fears, me strain on foot huge loads to bring ;
Shall then arm'd fancies fiercely drest, ne toil incessant on the wing,
Live at discretion in your breast ? id in their different ways explore
Be wise, and panic fright disdain, rise sense of want by future store ;
As notions, meteors of the brain ; ir from their vigorous scheines desist
And sights perform’d, illusive scene ! I death, and then are never miss'd.
By magic lanthorn of the spleen. ne frolic, toil, marry, increase,
Come here, from baleful cares releas'd, e sick and well, have war and peace,
With Virtue's ticket, to a feast, id, broke with age, in half a day
Where decent Mirth and Wisdom join'd ld to successors, and away.
In stewardship, regale the mind. Let not prophane this sacred place,
Call back the Cupids to your eyes, pocrisy with Janus' face;
I see the godlings with surprise. - Pomp, inixt state of pride and care ;
Not knowing home in such a plight, urt Kinduess, Falsehood's polish'd ware ; Fly to and fro, afraid to light. indal disguis'd in Friendship's veil,
Far from my theme, from method far, at tells, unask'd, th' injurious tale ;
Convey'd in Venus' flying car, art politic, which allows
I go compell’d by feather'd steeds, e jesuit-remedy for vows;
That scorn the rein, when Delia leads. priest, perfuming crowned head,
No daub of elegiac strain Il in a swoon Truth lies for dead
These holy wars shall ever stain; tawdry critic, who perceives
As spiders Irish wainscot flee, grace, which plain proportion gives,
Falsehood with them shall disagree; d more than lineaments divine
This floor let not the vulgar tread, Imires the gilding of the shrine;
Who worship only what they dread : that self-haunting spectre Spleen,
Nor bigots who but one way see thickest fog the clearest seen;
Through blinkers of authority. Prophecy, which dreams a lie,
Nor they wlio its four saints defame at fools believe and knaves apply ;
By making virtue but a name; frolic Mirth, prophanely loud,
Nor abstract wit, (painful regale nd happy only in a crowd;
To hunt the pig with slippery tail !) Melancholy's pensive gloom,
Artists, who richly chase their thought, oxy in Contemplation's room.
Gaudy without, but hollow
ought; Delia ! when I touch this string,
And beat too thin, and tool'd too much thee my Muse directs her wing.
To bear the proof and standard touch: uspotted fair! with downcast look
Nor fops to guard this sylvan ark, nd not so much the murm'ring brook ;
With necklace bells in treble bark : er fixt in thought, with footsteps slow
Nor cynics growl and fiercely paw, rough cypress alleys cherish woe:
The mastiffs of the moral law. ee the soul in pensive fit,
Come, nymph, with rural honours drest, ed moping like sick linnet sit.
Virtue's exterior form confest, th dewy eye, and moulting wing,
With charms untarnish'd, innocence perch'd, averse to fly or sing;
Display, and Eden shall commence; ee the favourite curls begin
When thus you come in sober fit, isus'd to toilet discipline)
And wisdom is preferr'd to wit; quit their post, lose their smart air,
And looks diviner graces tell, d grow again like common hair ;
Which don't with giggling muscles dwell; d tears, which frequent kerchiefs dry,
And beauty like the ray-clipt Sun, ise a red circle round the eye;
With bolder eye we look upon; d by this bur about the Moon,
Learning shall with obsequious mien mjecture more ill weather soon.
Tell all the wonders she has seen; ve not so much the doleful knell :
Reason her logic armour quit, d news the boding night-birds tell ;
And proof to mild persuasion sit; =r watch the wainscot's hollow blow ;
Religion with free thought dispense, d her portentous when they crow;
And cease crusading against sense ;
THE SPARROW AND DIAMOSI
I LATELY saw, what now I sing,
Fair Lucia's hand display'd; This finger grac'd a diamond ring,
On that a sparrow play'd.
The feather'd play-thing she caress'd,
She stroak'd its head and wings; And while it nestled on her breast,
She lisp'd the dearest things.
He loosen'd from the rest,
The easier to digest.
Her diamond to descry: 'Twas gone ! she sicken'd at the sight. I
Moaning her bird would die.
The curtains none undraw,
The street was laid with straw.
Philosophy and she embrace,
their vacation sing ;
O kindly view our letter'd strife,
What virtue is we judge by you;
Father! forgive, thus far I stray,
The doctor us'd his oily art
Of strong emetic kind,
And engineer'd behind.
To bring away the stone, Dicky, like people given o'er,
Picks up, when let alone
His eyes dispell’d their sickly dews,
He peck'd behind his wing; Lucia recovering at the news,
Relapses for the ring. Meanwhile within her beauteous breast
Two different passions strove; When av'rice ended the contest,
And triumph'd over love.
Poor little, pretty, Auttering thing,
Thy pains the sex display, Who, only to repair a ring,
Could take thy life away.
Monster of foulest mien :
Could but its form be seen.
It made a virgin put on guile,
Truth's image break her word, A Lucia's face forbear to smile,
A Venus kill her bird.