No more your blandifhments my heart detain,
Beauty and pleasure make their court in vain ;
Objects divine and infinite in view,

Seize all my powers, ye fading toys, from you.
'Tis finish'd now, the great deciding part!
The world's fubdu'd, and thou hast all my heart;
It triumphs in the change, it fixes here,
Nor needs another feparation fear.

No fatal chance thro' endless years shall rife,
The series of my pleasures to surprise ;

No various scenes to come, no change of place,
Shall e'er thy image from my foul efface;
Nor life, nor death, nor distant height above,
Nor depths below, fhall part me from thy love,

TH

THE STATE OF OLD AGE.

HE feas are quiet when the winds give o'er,
So calm are we when paffions rage no more;
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes,
Conceals that emptiness which time defcries.
The foul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light thro' chinks that time has made.
Stranger by weakness wifer men become,

As they draw nearer to their latest home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
Who ftand upon the threshold of the new.

CHAP.

CHAP. VII. OF JOB, PARAPHRASED.

HA

BY THE LATE MR. SAMUEL BOYSE.

AS not kind heaven, regarding human woe, Set a fix'd period to our race below? Known to th' All-wife is our uncertain stay, And we, like hirelings, toil but by the day: Then when the busy tedious dream is o'er, We fink into the grave, and are no more. And is then death our flumber? our repose? Oh! when shall death JOB's weary'd eye-lids close! As with defiring eyes the harrass'd swain Expects the evening-fhade to quit the plain; So with impatience to the grave I bend, And long to fee my numerous forrows end: For crufh'd, o LORD! beneath thy powerful arm, What balm can cure my griefs? what music charm? While in a thousand shapes thy wrath I know, And feel a ftrange variety of woe!

When will my long protracted troubles cease? And this tormented sufferer be at peace!

Each ling'ring night in agonies I lie,

And oft I wish, but wish in vain, to die;

In filent woe I lengthen out the night,

Then curfe the gloom, and wait the dawning light: The dawning light returns---but not to me,

And all but I its kindly aspect fee:

To

To me no friendly feasons e'er return,

Nor gives the evening ease, nor joy the morn.
With-hold at length thy wrath, and fet me free,
For what is JOB, O God! to strive with thee?
Than thought more swift my fleeting moments pass ¿
Confum'd, I wither as the fading grafs.

Remember, LORD, my tranfient life, like wind,
Blows off unfeen, nor leaves a trace behind :
Short as it is, why is it then oppreft,

Curft by that Being who once made it bleft?
Oh close the scene---and let my forrows ceafe,
Diffolve the chain, and frown me into peace!

Each evening yields the fun to fable night,
But every morn returns again as bright;
Within earth's lap the yearly feed is thrown,
And nature's bounteous hand repays the loan
But man within the grave for ever lies,
Till nature's death permitted not to rife;
Till then forbid the fainteft glimpse of day,
Or re-afcend the long forgotten way;
No more indulg'd to see the chearful light,
Or fweet viciffitudes of day and night:
Here look, vain men, and human greatness see,
Dust once ye were, and dust again must be !

Oh! why should tortur'd JOB his fighs refrain?
Or fuffering thus, why fhould he not complain?
Allow him proftrate then to afk his God,
Why thus thou break'ft this animated clod?
Why watchest thou my fteps severely just?
And while I bend me groaning to the dust,

Forbid'ft me one short interval of rest,
And emptieft all thy quiver in my breast!
In vain for reft I to my couch repair,
And hope in fleep to diffipate my care;
For there in awful vifions. I behold

My terrors heighten'd, and my hopes controul'd:
How can I then this wretched life fuftain,
When fleep, death's image, but augments my pain?
Oft when alone, and in the ev'ning fhade,

I call for death-but call in vain for aid:
For thou unmov'd still lengthen'ft out my pains,
And whom thy wrath torments, thy power fuftains.
Oh finish, gracious Lord! th' unequal ftrife,
And I to buy my peace will quit my life.
What did I say of life?---that galling chain!
By thee afflicted, what is life but pain?
I would not live, nor bear the dreadful load;
I fink, I faint, beneath thy chaft'ning rod !
Oh cease to urge what nature cannot bear !
Nor fill me thus with anguish and despair;
Withdraw thy cruel all-supporting power !
And lo! I perifh in that gracious hour!

Then humbly in thy fight I lay me down,
At once thy juftice and my crimes I own.
To thee for mercy and relief I come;
Oh take this late repenting rebel home.
Oh let thy pity ease and set me free,
And give me in destruction rest to see:
So fhall the voice of my complaining cease,
And JOB's laft breath shall bless thee for his peace.

CHAP.

CHAP. III. OF JOB, TRANSLATED.

TH

BY THE SAME.

HUS JOB began-Curft be the fatal morn, In which distinguish'd wretchedness was born! From the fair round of the revolving year Perish that day! nor let the night appear, In which this wretched being first began To fwell to mifery and promise man! Let darkness stain it o'er, no friendly ray Pierce thro' the gloom of that accurfed day! But shades of terror o'er its circuit spread, And fold it in the mantle of the dead! May all its stars with rays diminish'd show, And thro' the dusky air obfcurely glow! No glimpse of hope the dreadful scene adorn, Nor let it fee the promise of a morn!Because it shut not up my mother's womb, Nor join'd at once my cradle and my tomb: Why dy'd I not? why did preventive care My deftin❜d life for future forrows spare? Then had I found that ease I seek in vain, Nor known this load of unexampled pain!

O grave! thou refuge of the foul distrest ! When shall I fink into thy downy rest? There kings and mighty ones neglected rot, In their own mould'ring monuments forgot:

(Tho'