V.

Now by swifteft Zephyrs drawn,
Urge thy chariot o'er the lawn ;
In yon gloomy grotto laid,
PALEMON afks thy kindly aid;
If goodness can that aid engage,
O hover round the virtuous fage:

Nor let one figh for his own fuff'rings rife;
Each human fuff'ring fills his fympathizing eyes.

VI.

Venus from Æneas' fide/
With fuccefsful efforts try'd

To extract th' envenom'd dart,

That baffled wife lapis' art,

If thus, HYGEIA, thou couldst prove
Propitious to the queen of love,

Now on thy favour'd HEBERDEN bestow

Thy choiceft healing pow'rs, for Pallas asks them now.

VII.

What tho', banish'd from the fight,

To the hero's troubled fight,

Ranks on ranks tumultuous rofe

Of flying friends and conqu'ring foes;

He only panted to obtain

A laurel wreath for thoufands flain;

On nobler views intent, the SAGE's mind

Pants to delight, inftruct, and humanife mankind.

A VERNAL O D E.

Sent to his Grace the Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY, March 12, 1754. E

By FRANCIS FAWKES, A. M.

B

I.

RIGHT God of day, whofe genial power
Revives the buried feed,

That spreads with foliage every bower,

With verdure every mead,

Bid all thy vernal breezes fly, C

Diffufing mildness thro' the sky;

Give the foft season to our drooping plains, Sprinkled with rofy dews, and falutary rains. II.

Enough has Winter's hand fevere

Hurl'd all his terrors round,
Chill'd the fair dawning of the year,
And whiten'd all the ground:
Give but thy vital beams to play,'

The frozen fcenes will melt away;

And, mix in fprightly dance, the blooming Hours

Will 'wake the drowsy Spring, and Spring awake the flowers.

III. Let

Let Health, gay daughter of the skies,
On Zephyr's wings defcend,
And scatter pleasures as fhe flies

Where Surry's downs extend;

There HERRING wooes her friendly power,
There may she all her roses shower,

To heal that shepherd all her balms employ,

So will she footh our fears, and give a nation joy.

IV.

Ah me! that Virtue's godlike friends
So foon are claim'd by Fate !
Lo!* PELHAM to the grave descends,
The bulwark of the ftate:

When will fair Truth his equal find

Among the best of human kind ?

Long be the fatal day with mourning kept!

AUGUSTUS figh'd fincere, and all the worthy wept.

V.

Thy delegate, kind heaven, reftore
To health, and fafely keep;
Let good AUGUSTUS figh no more,

No more the worthy weep:

And ftill upon the royal head

The riches of thy bleffings fhed:

Eftablish'd with his counsellors around,

Long be his profp'rous reign, and all with glory crown'd.

*The Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Efq; died on the 6th of March 1754.

An

*

An AUTUMNAL ODE.

By the Same.

I.

ET once more, glorious God of day,
While beams thine orb ferene,

YET

O let me warbling court thy ftay
To gild the fading scene!
Thy rays invigorate the Spring,

Bright Summer to perfection bring,

The cold, inclement days of Winter cheer, And make th' Autumnal months the mildeft of the year.

II.

Ere yet the ruffet foliage fall,

I'll climb the mountain's brow,

My friend, my Hayman, at thy call,

To view the scene below:

How sweetly pleafing to behold

Forefts of vegetable gold!

How mix'd the many-chequer'd shades between

The tawny mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green!

VOL. IV.

S

III. How

III.

How fplendid all the sky! how still!
How mild the dying gale!
How foft the whispers of the rill
That winds along the dale!
So tranquil Nature's works appear,

It seems the Sabbath of the year;

As if, the Summer's Labour past, she chofe
This feafon's fober calm for blandishing repose.
IV.

Such is of well-fpent life the time,
When bufy days are past,

Man verging gradual from his prime,

Meets facred Peace at last :

His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er,
And Summer's full-blown pride no more,

He gains pacific Autumn, meek and bland,

And dauntless braves the stroke of Winter's palfy'd hand.
V.

For yet awhile, a little while,
Involv'd in wint❜ry gloom,

And lo! another Spring fhall fmile,
A Spring eternal bloom;
Then shall he shine, a glorious guest,

In the bright mansions of the bleft,

Where due rewards on Virtue are bestow'd,

And reap the golden fruits of what his Autumn fow'd.

A SONG.