Sure all Creation seems to join,
And speak the Season is Divine!
" The spangled Heavens — a shining frame —
" Their Great Original proclaim! "
The glitt'ring stars illume the earth,
Once honour'd with a Saviour'S Birth.
Resplendent, awful, and serene,
Majestic Order decks the scene;
And almost may the list'ning ear,
The tuneful harps of Seraphs hear! —
Oh, Harmony! thy note is Love!
And sure thy triumph was Above,
When from the azure Courts of Heav'n,
A Saviour to Mankind was given!

A TALE .

Have you not seen (to state the case)
Two wasps lie struggling in a glass?
By the rich flavour of Tokay
Allur'd, about the brim they play;
They light, they murmur, then begin
To lick, and so at length slip in:
Embracing close the couple lies,
Together dip, together rise;
You'd swear they love, and yet they strive
Which shall be sunk, and which survive.
Such seign'd amours and real hate
Attend the matrimonial state,
When sacred vows are bought and sold,

Bright eyes! twin stars that rule my wayward fate,
Ye beauteous ministers of all my woe;
Bright eyes! in some kind warning glance relate
If death or life from your decree shall flow:
Oh quick, the cruel mercy then dispense,
Despair is bliss to lingering suspense!

WHO PERISHED IN AN APARTMENT WHERE HE CAME FOR SHELTER .

Sweet, gentle Bird! whose shiv'ring breast,
 When dreary snows had chill'd the plain,
To Pity came, a gentle guest!
 Nor ask'd a shelter there in vain.

Sweet bird! whose soft endearing pow'r,
 By Gratitude more pleasing grew!
'Twas thine to charm the weary hour,
 And cheer thy benefactor too;

To sooth him with thy warbling lay,
 With playful tricks his smile to win,
And frowning Care flew far away,
 When gentle Robin once came in!

But oh! the killing winter soon

I.

What art thou, Life! whose stay we court?
What is thy rival Death, we fear?
Since we're but fickle Fortune's sport,
Why should we wish t'inhabit here,
And think the race we find so rough too short?

II.

While in the womb we forming lie,
While yet the lamp of life displays
A doubtful dawn with feeble rays,
New issuing from Non-entity,
The shell of flesh pollutes with sin
Its gem, the soul, just enter'd in,
And, by transmitted vice defil'd,
The fiend commences with the child.

III.

I.

There is a sweet and solemn hour,
And calmly soothing is its power,
To smile away grief's gloomy low'r,
'tis then I rove;
It follows last the revel train,
That frolics round Time's rapid wain,
this hour I love!

II.

Then western clouds but faintly blush,
And sad, yet sweetly sings the thrush,
The faint breeze bends the stream-lov'd rush;
while many a ray
From the night's silver-hooded queen,
Sipping the ambient wave is seen,
'tis then I stray.

III.

FOR THE NEW YEAR 1707.

I.

Begin, celestial Source of light!
To gild the new-revolving sphere,
And from the pregnant womb of Night
Urge on to birth the infant year.
Rich with auspicious lustre rise,
Thou fairest regent of the skies!
Conspicuous with thy silver bow:
To thee, a god, 't was giv'n by Jove
To rule the radiant orbs above,
To Gloriana this below.

II.

With joy renew thy destin'd race,
And let the mighty months begin;
Let no ill omen cloud thy face;
Thro' all thy circle smile serene.

WITH THE POEMS OF MR. WALLER .

Let others boast the Nine Aonian maids,
Inspiring streams, and sweet resounding shades,
Where Phaebus heard the rival bards rehearse,
And bade the laurels learn the lofty verse:
In vain! nor Phaebus nor the boasted Nine
Inflame the raptur'd soul with rays divine:
None but the fair infuse the sacred fire,
And love with vocal art informs the lyre.
When Waller, kindling with celestial rage,
View'd the bright Harley of that wond'ring age,

Now swift upon the wings of Fame,
The dismal news triumphant came,
And round the fatal rumour spread,
That ev'ry Dog must lose his head.
Yet now, as Mercy still entreated,
Ere Policy her work compleated,
She summon'd ev'ry dog of sport,
Of pride, or profit, into court,
And call'd the miscreants to produce
Their names, their quality, and use;
Resolv'd no quarter to afford,
To such as paid not for their board,
But banish ev'ry worthless hound
To some dark corner under ground.—
This little scheme was Mercy's doing,

Which prevented the Author returning to School at the expiration of the Christmas Holydays.

I ne'er did hail thy orient red,
Sol, when thou leav'st thy eastern bed,
And o'er the world thy glories spread,
and radiant power,
As when thou'st earth-drawn vapours shed
in heavy shower!

II.

And oft I upward cast mine eyes,
(Tho' not I ween o'er weather-wise)
And gladsome view the frowning skies;
while screaming crow
Proclaims the storm as high he flies,
to us below!

III.