See how the bubbling springs of love The ftreams in crystal channels move, Here may thy greedy fenfes feaft While extafy and health attends on every tafte. With the fair prospect charm'd I ftood; Fearless I feed on the delicious fare, And drink profufe falvation from the filver flood, In facred order rang'd along Saints new-releas'd by death Join the bold feraph's warbling breath, And aid th' immortal fong. And, like the trumpet, ftrong. I was all ear! Through all my powers the heavenly accents roll, I long'd and wifh'd my Bradbury there; "The dull unwinding of life's tedious thread, "But burft the vital chords to reach the happy dead." And now my tongue prepares to join The harmony, and with a noble aim Attempts th' unutterable name, But faints, confounded by the notes divine : Again my foul th' unequal honour fought, Again her utmoft force the brought, And bow'd beneath the burden of th' unwieldy thought. Thrice I effay'd, and fainted thrice; Th' immortal labour ftrain'd my feeble frame, Broke the bright vifion, and diffolv'd the dream : I funk at once and loft the skies: In vain I fought the fcenes of light Rolling abroad my longing eyes, For all around them stood my curtains and the night. I' Strict Religion very rare. 'M borne aloft, and leave the crowd, I fail upon a morning cloud Skirted with dawning gold: Mine eyes beneath the opening day "Are thefe the things (my paffion cry'd) "To "To the fair worlds of light? "They have ras'd out their Maker's name, "Graven on their minds with pointed flame "In strokes divinely bright. "Wretches! they hate their native skies; "If an ethereal thought arife, "Or fpark of virtue shine, "With cruel force they damp its plumes, "Choke the young fire with fenfual fumes, "With bufinefs, luft, or wine. "Lo! how they throng with panting breath "The broad defcending road "That leads unerring down to death, "Nor mifs the dark abode." I meet Myrtillo mounting high, They foar beyond my labouring sight, But not their love, below. On heaven, their home, they fix their eyes, The temple of their God: With morning incenfe up they rife Across the road a feraph flew, « Mark, (faid he) that happy pair, "Marriage helps devotion there : "When kindred minds their God pursue Charm'd with the pleafure and furprize, "Bleft be the power that springs their flight, To Mr. C. and S. FLEETWOOD. LEETWOODS, young generous pair, Bubbles are light and brittle too, Born of the water and the air. Try'd by a ftandard bold and just Titles and names, and life and breath, Slaves to the wind and born for death; The foul 's the only thing we have The foul! 'tis of th' immortal kind, [behind. Out-lives the mouldering corpfe, and leaves the globe In limbs of clay though the appears, Array'd in rofy skin, and deck'd with ears and eyes, The flesh is but the foul's difguife, There's nothing in her frame kin to the dress she wears a From all the laws of matter free, From all we feel, and all we fee, She ftands eternally distinct, and must for ever be. Rife then, my thoughts, on high, Soar beyond all that's made to die; Sits the Creator and the Judge of fouls, Whirling the planets round the poles, Winds off our threads of life, and brings our periods on Swift the approach, and folemn is the day, When this immortal mind Stript of the body's coarse array To endless pain, or endless joy, Think of the fands run down to waste, None |