V. ; Now by swifteft Zephyrs drawn, Nor let one figh for his own fuff'rings rise; Each human fuff'ring fills his fympathizing eyes. VI. Venus from Æneas' fide With fuccessful efforts try'd To extract th' envenom'd dart, That baffled wife Iapis' art, If thus, HYGEIA, thou couldst prove Now on thy favour'd HEBERDEN bestow Thy choicest 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; A laurel Wreath for thousands flain; On nobler views intent, the SAGE's mind Pants to delight, inftruct, and humanife mankind. S. 3 Author of Clarifa. Α A VERNAL ODE. Sent to his Grace the Lord Archbishop of CANTERBURY, March 12, 1754. B [By FRANCIS FAWKES, A. M.] I. RIGHT god of day, whofe genial power That spreads with foliage every bower, With verdure every mead, Bid all thy vernal breezes fly, Diffusing mildness thro' the sky; Give the foft Seafon to our drooping plains, Sprinkled with rofy dews, and falutary rains. II. Enough has Winter's hand fevere Hurl'd all his terrors round, Give but thy vital beams to play, The frozen fcenes will melt away; And, mix'd in sprightly dance, the blooming Hours Will 'wake the drowsy Spring, andSpring awake the flowers. III. Le: III. Let Health, gay daughter of the skies, Where Surry's downs extend; There HERRING wooes her friendly power, To heal that fhepherd all her balms employ, IV. Ah me! that Virtue's godlike friends Lo! *PELHAM to the grave descends, When will fair Truth his equal find Long be the fatal day with mourning kept! V. Thy delegate, kind heaven, reftore To health, and safely keep; Let good AUGUSTUS figh no more, And ftill upon the royal head Establish'd with his counfellors 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 AUTUMNAL ODE. YE By the Same. I. ET once more, glorious god of day, O let me warbling court thy stay To gild the fading scene! Bright Summer to perfection bring, The cold, inclement days of Winter chear, And make th' Autumnal months the mildest 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 Forests of vegetable gold! How mix'd the many checker'd shades between The tawny mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green! III. How How foft the whispers of the rill It seems the Sabbath of the year; IV. Such is of well-fpent life the time, Man verging gradual from his prime, His flowery Spring of pleasures o'er, He gains pacific Autumn, meek and bland, And dauntless braves the ftroke of Winter's palfy'd hand. V. For yet a while, a little while, Involv'd in wint'ry gloom, And lo! another Spring fhall fmile, Then fhall he shine, a glorious gueft, In the bright manfions of the bleft, Where due rewards on Virtue are bestow'd, And reap the golden fruits of what his Autumn fow'd. A |