Have not thy eye-lids mark'd my painful toil,
The wild confufions of my shatter'd powers,
And broken fluttering thoughts? Haft thou not
feen
Each restless atom that with vexing influence Works thro' the mafs of man? Each noxious juice,
Each ferment that infects the vital humours,
That heaves the veins with huge difquietude,
And spreads the tumult wide? Do they not lie
Beneath thy view, and all within thy reach?
Yes, all at thy command, and must obey
Thy fovereign touch: Thy touch is health and
life,
And harmony to nature's jarring ftrings.
When shall my midnight fighs and morning
Rife thro' the heights of heaven and reach thy
Propitious? See, my fpirit's feeble powers Exhal'd and breathing upward to thy throne, Like early incense climbing through the sky From the warm altar. When fhall grace and
Descend with bleffings, like an evening shower
On the parch'd defert, and renew my bloom?
Or must thy creature breathe his foul away
In fruitless groans and die ?
Come, bleft Physician, come attend the moan
Of a poor fuffering wretch, a plaintive worm,
Crush'd in the duft and helpleís. O defcend,
Array'd in power and love, and bid me rife.
Incarnate goodness, fend thy influence down
To thefe low regions of mortality,
Where thou haft dwelt, and clad in fleshly weeds
Learnt fympathetic forrows; fend and heal
My long and fore diftrefs. Ten thousand praises
Attend thee David's harp is ready ftrung
For the Meffiah's name :
winged flight Of fongs harmonious and new honours wait The fteps of winged mercy.
Few Happy Matches.
1. SAY, mighty Love, and teach my fong,
To whom the fweeteft joys belong,
And who the happy pairs,
Whose willing hearts, and joining hands,
Find bleffings twifted with their bands,
To foften all their cares.
2. Not the wild herd of nympths and fwains,
That thoughtless fly into the chains,
As cuftom leads the way;
If there be blifs without defign,
Ivies and oaks may grow and twine
And be as bleft as they.
3. Not fordid fouls of earthly mould,
Who drawn by kindred chains of gold,
To dull embraces move:
So two rich mountains of Peru
May rush to wealthy marriage too,
And make a world of love.
4. Not the mad tribe that hell infpires
With wanton flames: those raging fires
The purer blifs destroy :
On Etna's top let furies wed,
And theets of lightning dress the bed
T'improve the burning joy.
5. Not the dull pairs, whofe marble forms
None of the melting paffions warms,
Can mingle hearts and hands:
Logs of green wood, that quench the coals,
Are married juft like ftoic fouls,
With ofiers for their bands.
6. Not minds of melancholy ftrain,
Still filent, or that ftill complain,
Can the dear bondage bless;
As well may heav'nly concert fpring
From two old lutes with ne'er a string,
Or none befide the base.
7. Nor can the foft enchantments hold,
Two jarring fouls of angry mould;
The rugged and the keen;
Sampfon's young foxes might as well
In bands of cheerful wedlock dwell,
With fire-brands tied between.
8. Nor let the cruel fetters bind
A gentle to a favage mind,
For love abhors the fight
Loofe the fierce tiger from the deer,
For native rage and native fear
Rife and forbid delight.
9. Two kindred fouls alone must meet;
'Tis friendship makes the bondage fweet;
And feeds their mutual loves :
Bright Venus on her rolling throne
In drawn by gentle birds alone,
And Cupid yokes the doves.
A sight of Heaven in sickness.
1. Öft have I fat in fecret fighs
To fell my flesh decay ;
Then groan'd aloud with frighted eyes,
To view the tott'ring clay.
2. But I forbid my forrows now,
Nor dares the flesh complain:
Diseases bring their profits too,
The joy o'ercomes the pain.
3. My cheerful foul now all the day
Sits waiting here and fings:
Looks through the ruin of her clay,
And practises her wings.
4. Faith almoft changes into fight,
While from afar fhe fpies
Her fair inheritance in light,
Above created skies.
5. Had but the prison walls been ftrong,"
And firm without a flaw,
In darkness she had dwelt too long,
And lefs of glory faw.
6. But now the everlasting hills
Through ev'ry chink appear,
And fomething of the joy the feels
While fhe's a prif'ner here.
7. The fhines of heav'n rufh fweetly in
At all the gaping flaws;
Vifions of endless blifs are feen,
And native air fhe draws.
8. O may their walls ftand tott'ring fill,
The breaches never close,
If I muft here in darkness dwell,
And all this glory lofe.
9. Or rather let this flesh decay,
The ruins wider grow,
Till glad to fee th' enlarged way,
I ftretch my pinions through.
1. HAST thou not feen, impatient boy, Haft thou not read that folemn truth,
That grey experience writes for giddy youth On ev'ry mortal joy:
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