RECTOR of Straddishall in Suffolk, 1738.
HUS safely low, my friend, thou can'st not fall:
Here reigns a deep tranquillity o'er all;
No noife, no care, no vanity, no strife;
Men, woods, and fields, all breathe untroubled life.
Then keep each passion down, however dear ;
Trust me, the tender are the most severe.
Guard, while 'tis thine, thy philofophic ease,
And ask no joy but that of virtuous peace;
That bids defiance to the storms of fate :
High bliss is only for a higher state..
A PARAPHRASE on the latter Part of the SIXTH Chapter of St. MATTHEW.
HEN my breast labours with oppressive care,
And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear,
While all my warring paffions are at strife,
O, let me listen to the words of life !
Raptures deep-felt his doctrine did impart,
And thus he rais'd from earth the drooping heart.
Think not, when all your scanty stores afford,
Is fpread at once upon the sparing board;
Think not, when worn the homely robe appears,
While, on the roof, the howling tempest bears;
What farther shall this feeble life fuftain,
And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life its nourishment exceed?
And the fair body its investing weed?
Behold! and look away your low despair-
See the light tenants of the barren air :
To them, nor stores, nor granaries belong,
Nought, but the woodland, and the pleasing song;
Yet, your kind heav'nly father bends his eye
On the leaft wing, that flits along the fky.
To him they fing, when Spring renews the plain,
To him they cry, in Winter's pinching reign';
Nor is their mufic, nor their plaint in vain :
He hears the gay, and the distressful call,
And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
Observe the rifing lily's snowy grace,
Observe the various vegetable race;
They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow,
Yet see how warm they blush! how bright they glow!
What regal vestments can with them compare!
What king so shining! or what queen so fair!
If, ceaselefs, thus the fowls of heav'n he feeds,
If o'er the fields fuch lucid robes he fpreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwife? or, are ye less than they?
The shepherd mark'd his treach'rous art,
And, softly sighing, thus reply'd :
'Tis true, you have fubdu'd my heart,
But shall not triumph o'er my pride.
The flave, in private only bears
Your bondage, who his love conceals;
But when his passion he declares,
You drag him at your chariot-wheels.
ARD is the fate of him who loves,
Yet dares not tell his trembling pain,
But to the sympathetic groves,
But to the lonely lift'ning plain..
Oh! when she blesses next your shade,
Oh! when her footsteps next are seen
In flow'ry tracts along the mead,
In fresher mazes o'er the green,
Ye gentle spirits of the vale,
To whom the tears of love are dear, From dying lilies waft a gale, And figh my forrows in her ear.
O tell her what she cannot blame,
Tho' fear my tongue must ever bind;
Oh tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotless foul refin'd.
Not her own guardian angel eyes
With chaster tenderness his care,
Not purer her own wishes rise,
Not holier her own fighs in pray'r.
But if, at first, her virgin fear,
Should start at love's suspected name,
With that of friendship footh her ear-
True love and friendship are the fame.
In vain I twine the woodbine bow'r;
Unless to deck her fweeter breaft,
In vain I rear the breathing flow'r :
Awaken'd by the genial year,
In vain the birds around me fing; In vain the fresh'ning fields appear : Without my love there is no fpring.
OR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part:
Bid us figh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the foul away;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone?
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