The most ungentle of his tribe was he;

No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart: With concords falfe, and hideous profody

He fcrawl'd his talk, and blunder'd o'er his part.

On barb'rous plunder bent, with favage eye

He mark'd where wrapt in down the younglings lay, Then rushing feiz'd the wretched family,

5 And bore them in his impious hands away.

But how fhall I relate in numbers rude

*

The pangs for poor Chryfomitris decreed ! When from a neighb'ring fpray aghaft fhe view'd The favage ruffian's inaufpicious deed!

So wrapt in grief fome heart-ftruck matron ftands, While horrid flames furround her children's room! On heav'n fhe calls, and wrings her trembling hands; Conftrain'd to fee, but not prevent their doom.

O grief of griefs! with fhrieking voice fhe cry'd, "What fight is this that I have liv'd to fee? "O that I had a maiden-goldfinch died,

"From love's falfe joys, and bitter forrows free!

"Was it for this, alas! with weary bill,

"Was it for this, I pois'd th' unwieldly ftraw? "For this 1 pick'd the mofs from yonder hill? "Nor fhun'd the pond'rous chat along to draw? "Was it for this, I cull'd the wool with care;

"And ftrove with all my skill our work to crown "For this, with pain I bent the ftubborn hair; "And lin'd our cradle with the thiftle's down?

"Was it for this, my freedom I refign'd;

?

"And ceas'd to rove from beauteous plain to plain? "For this, I fat at home whole days confin'd, "And bore the fcorching heat, and pealing rain?

"Was it for this, my watchful eyes grew dim? "The crimson rofes on my cheek turn'd pale

"Pale is my golden plumage, once fo trim; "And all my wonted fpirits 'gin to fail.

Chryfomitris, it feems, is the name for a goldfinch..

wolf

O Plunderer vile! O more than weezel fell! "More treach'rous than the cat with prudifh face! "More fierce than kites with whom the furies dwell! "More pilf'ring than the cuckow's prowling race! "For thee may plumb or goofb'ry never grow, "No juicy currant cool thy clammy throat: "But bloody birch-twigs work thee fhameful woe, "Nor ever goldfinch cheer thee with her note.' Thus fang the mournful bird her piteous tale, The piteous tale her mournful mate return'd: Then fide by fide they fought the diftant vale, And there in filent fadnefs inly mourn'd.

An ODE on the HEAVENLY BODIES.
[ADDISON.]
I.

HE fpacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,

And fpangled Heavens, a fhining frame,

Their great Original proclaim:

Th' unwearied fun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's pow'r difplay,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.

II.

Soon as the evening fhades prevail,
The moon takes up the wond'rous tale,
And nightly to the lift'ning earth
Repeats the ftory of her birth:

Whilft all the ftars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And fpread the truth from pole to pole.

III.

What though, in folemn filence, all
Move round the dark, terreftrial ball!
What tho' nor real voice nor found
Amid their radiant orbs be found!
In reafon's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever finging as they fhine,

The hand that made us is Divine."

A

A HYMN on GRATITUDE.

[ADDISON.]

I.

WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,

My rifing foul furveys;

Tranfported with the view, I'm loft
In wonder, love, and praise:

II.

O how fhall words, with equal warmth,
The gratitude declare,

That glows within my ravifh'd heart?
But thou canft read it there.

IV.

To all my weak complaints and cries,
Thy mercy lent an ear,

Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in pray'r.

V.

Unnumber'd comforts to my foul
Thy tender care beftow'd,
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whom thofe comforts flow'd.
VI.

When in the flipp'ry paths of youth
With heedlefs fteps I ran,

Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe,
And led me up to man.

VII.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths,
It gently clear'd my way,

And through the pleafing fnares of vice,

More to be fear'd than they.

VIII.

When worn with ficknefs, oft haft thou

With health renew'd my face,

And when in fins and forrows funk,

Reviv'd my foul with grace.

Thy

IX.

Thy bounteous hand with worldly blifs
Has made my cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful friend
Has doubled all my ftore.

X..V

Ten thousand thoufand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ,

Nor is the least a chearful heart,
That taftes thofe gifts with joy.
XI.

Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll purfue;
And after death in diftant worlds
The glorious theme renew.

XII.

When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,
My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy fhall adore.

XIII.

Through all eternity to Thee

A joyful fong I'll raife,

For O eternity's too short.

To utter all thy praise.

An ODE on PROVIDENCE.

[ADDISON.]

I.

H How fure is there defence!

OW are thy fervants bleft, O Lord!

Eternal Wifdom is their guide

Their help Omnipotence.

.II.

In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,

Thro' burning climes I pafs'd unhurt,
And breath'd in tainted air.

III.

Thy mercy sweeten'd every foil,
Made every region please,
The hoary Alpine-Hills it warm'd,
And fmooth'd the Tyrrhene-feas.

And fear in

every heart

When waves on waves, and gulphs or gulphs
O'er-came the pilot's art..

VI..

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy fet me free,

Whilft in the confidence of prayer,

My foul took hold on thee.

VII.

For tho' in dreadful whirles we hung,.
High on the broken wave,

I knew thou wert not flow to hear,
Nor impotent to fave..

VIII.

The ftorm was laid, the winds retir'd,
Obedient to thy will;

The fea, that roar'd at thy command,
At thy command was ftill.

IX.

In midft of dangers, fears, and death,
Thy goodness I'll adore;

And praise thee for thy mercies past,
And humbly hope for more.

X.

My life, if thou preferv'ft my life,.

Thy facrifice fhall be;

And death, if death must be my doom,.

Shall join my foul to thee..

O DE to

SPRING.

[Mifs CARTER.]

YOUTH of the year, delightful Spring!
Thy bleft return on genial wing

Infpires my languid lays;

No more I fleep in floth fupine,
When all creation at thy fhrine

Its annual tribute pays.

Efcap'd