Let infidels be dumb! Fill high my glass!
Fair Dashwood proves an atheist is an ass:
None but a Deity such art could boast
To form so gay, so beautiful a toast.

Apollo laid his lyre upon a stone;
The stone was seized with music; and the touch
Of mortal could awake the god's own tone
For ever after. Marvel ye not much.
Wherever God may choose, or man may dwell,
This is an ever acting miracle.

When once the gift of godlike poesy
Hath touched the heart, it answers everything
In its own tongue, but with a harmony
Instinct of Heaven. Let the world then, fling
Its arms of honour round the Poet's breast,
And Heaven may hear Earth's music, and have rest.

A PASTORAL .

DAPHNIS .

How calm the ev'ning! see the falling day
Gilds ev'ry mountain with a ruddy ray!
In gentle sighs the softly whisp'ring breeze
Salutes the flow'rs, and waves the trembling trees,
Hark! the night-warbler from yon vocal boughs
Glads ev'ry valley with melodious woes:
Swift thro' the air her rounds the swallow takes,
Or sportive skims the level of the lakes;
The tim'rous deer, swift-starting as they graze,
Bound off in crowds, then turn again and gaze.

To banish dull care, and alleviate pain,
Sweet Crouch ventures forth in Thalia's gay train;
Persuasion's soft pow'r e'en beams in her face,
Each smile has a charm, and each motion a grace;
Yet, gaze not too long on Laurette's bright eyes,
Whose lustre the diamond's illusion despise;
But gaze on the virtues that spring from her soul,
And Modesty's blush, that encircles the whole;
Then Scandal's fell venom must instant expire,
And Chastity own whom the world can admire.

The rich all happy I was wont to hold,
Who never paid large usury for gold.
“Those sons of fortune never sigh, I said,
“Nor toss with anguish on their weary bed;
“But soft dissolving into balmy sleep,
“Indulge sweet slumbers, while the needy weep:”
But now the great and opulent, I see,
Lament their lots, and mourn as well as we.

What can be weigh'd with riches in the scale?
They screen all vices with a golden veil.

1.

Thus in plaintive Notes, dear Creature,
Let me but attract thine Ear;
And, by kind assistant Nature,
Make thee love and be sincere:
Love and Music must obtain
Kind Returns, for Strephon 's Pain.

2

In those Eyes, I now discover
Dawning Pity for thy Swain;
Blush not, Cynthia , for thy Lover
Will the Flame return again:
Blest the Passion Music fir'd,

" Say, what is Friendship, but a name, "
When friend can ne'er on friend rely?
'Tis chaos, built on airy same,
That wants the Sympathizing Sigh!

I hate the fiend, whose vaulted praise
Can prosfer all, yet all deny;
Whose deeds dissimulation sways,
And seigns the Sympathizing Sigh.

But he who scorns the mean deceit,
And sheds a tear when Sorrow 's by,
His friendship is supremely sweet,

In early youth Clorinda 's chains I wore,
And still unchang'd the lovely fair adore:
No other female charms have pow'r to please,
And make me languish in inglorious ease;
No other nymph in country, town, or court,
Where gentle belles, and gentler beaux resort,
Tho' practis'd in the soft inveigling art,
Can boast a conquest o'er my faithful heart.

May the bright lustre of her sparkling eyes
Have pow'r to make no other slave her prize!
May no conceited fop her favour boast,
But think she scarce deserves to be a toast!

Bright Sol had to his Thetis gone,
And Night, her starry Mantle on,
Invited Luna to appear,
And deck with Light the Hemisphere:
The pale-fac'd Goddess, gently 'rose,
And Colin sought his wish'd Repose.
In balmy Sleep the Shepherd lay,
When he, by Fancy led astray,
Imagines, that himself he found
The Owner of a Waste of Ground,
Whereon a stately Palace stood,
Encompass'd by a beauteous Wood.
That busy Crouds of servile Slaves,
And sly insinuating Knaves,
Attend his Nod, and all he says,
Tho' e'er so wrong, they falsely praise;