But chief in Europe, and in Europe's pride, Ah me! for now a younger rival claims And warbles Philomel a fofter ftrain? Do morning funs in ruddier glory rise? Ah! no: the blunted beams of dawning light Pale, immature, the blighted verdure springs, When Silence liftens at the midnight hour. Nor Nor wonder, man, that Nature's bafhful face, The fickly daughter of th' unripen'd year? With fhow'rs and funshine in her fickle eyes, Is this the fair invefted with my spoil By Europe's laws, and Senates' ftern command ? Again revive on Afia's drooping shore My Daphne's groves, or Lycia's ancient plain : Again to Afric's fultry fands reftore Embow'ring fhades, and Lybian Ammon's fane: Or hafte to northern Zembla's favage coaft, There hufh to filence elemental ftrife; Brood o'er the region of eternal Froft, And fwell her barren womb with heat and life. Then Britain-here fhe ceas'd. Indignant grief, And tears, and filent anguish told the reft. SONG Y SONG for RANELAGH. By Mr. W. WHITEHEAD. I. E belles, and ye flirts, and ye pert little things, Pray tell me from whence this indecency springs, What means the cock'd hat, and the masculine air, Bright eyes were intended to languish, not ftare, II. The girl who on beauty depends for fupport, The bofom difplay'd, and the petticoat short, But you, on whom Fortune indulgently fmiles, III. The III. The Venus whose statue delights all mankind Then learn with her beauties to copy her air, Our fancies will paint what you cover with care, IV. The blushes of Morn, and the mildnefs of May, But if Amazon-like you attack your gallants, And put us in fear of our lives, You may do very well for fifters and aunts, But believe me you'll never be wives. The BENEDICITE Paraphrased. By the Rev. Mr. MERRICK. E works of God, on him alone, YE In earth his footstool, heaven his throne, Be all your praise bestow'd; Whofe hand the beauteous fabrick made, Whose eye the finish'd work furvey'd, And faw that all was good. II. Ye angels, that with loud acclaim Praise him, ye blefs'd ætherial plains, Ye waters, that above him roll, Ye thrones, dominions, virtues, pow'rs, Join ye your joyful fongs with ours, From age to age extend the lay, To heav'n's eternal Monarch pay Hymns of eternal praise. Cœleftial orb!whofe pow'rful ray Opes the glad eyelids of the day, Whofe influence all things own; Praise him, whofe courts effulgent shine With light, as far excelling thine, As thine the paler moon. |