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What time on Lebanon’s proud Hill, Slow rose the Stately Cedars Brow. Nor less rejoice the lowly Plains, Of useful Corn the fertile Bed, Than when the Lordly Cedar reigns, A beauteous, but a Barren Shade. 17 While in His Arms the Painted Train, Warbling to the Vocal Grove, Sweetly tell their Pleasing Pain, Willing Slaves to Genial Love. 18 While the Wild goats, an active Throng, From Rock to Rock light-bounding fly Jehovah’s Praise in Solemn Song Shall echo thro’ the Vaulted Sky. To Mr------, <strong>School</strong>master From Flowery Plains, whose ever humid Sides Isis and Cherwell, lucid streams, bedew Wide rolling, and in wanton Circlets wav’d Embrace old Earth, till from her swelling Womb (Her Pangs assuag’d by Titan’s healing Hand) The springing Green erects his filial Head; Thou, Swain, a Humble muse accosts, Thee admires; Potent of Song, If haply Thou mayst deign T’ unbend Thy Brow, or stay thy Red Right hand (Arrested in mid course) with fell Intent Dependent o’er the Quivering Thigh, Mine bent 77
on other Purposes, far differing Wars attempts, with different arms instruct. Nor were Th’ Imperial Forces in This Hand; nor glows This vestment, purpled late with Human Gore. When long suspended Vengeance calls me forth ’Gainst Hostile Rage, Not Blood in Our Encounter, But Ichor, such as Pens Immortal bleed With Sable stream embrowns the snowy Field. But say, Skilfull of Tongue, what Happy Maid Receives thy Vows? Whom hath thy yielding Heart Enthron’d sole empress, and in deathly Song Proclaim’d with Sense, whence perfect Beauty adorn’d? Or Diamonds deck the shining Fair, tho’ veiling Their Lustre to her brighter Eyes? Or wears She Plain Nature’s Dress, rich in Unborrow’d Charms, Such, well I ween, salute thy gladsom Eye When Day calmly declining lures Thee forth To taste the Evening Air: Such, Ah! The Day When first These Eyes beheld Those piercing Beams! Contains a blissful Seat in that Fair Vale Where Avon rolls her gently gliding Flood, Parent of Fruitfulness and Joy and Love! Excellent Maid! How could my Friendly Thought Broad o’er thy Virtues! How my heated Tongue Sport in Thy Praise! Recite Thy spotless Truth, Thy Elegance of Mind, Chasteness of Manners, Firmness of Soul, and Generous Tender Heart 78
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Editorial Introduction: JOHN WESLEY
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To guide her airy flights along; Go
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Dublin Miscellany 8 (On a Lady Thro
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On Seeing a Friends Picture. By the
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[To Stella] 17 [p.] 230 Stella, whe
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Once from my Window as I cast mine
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I, sacred Wisdom, am more precious
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Thou too canst boast thy Lawns, and
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To distant Objects stretch my lengt
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E’er Motion, Time, or Entity bega
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How solid Waves to glassy Mountains
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The Hive (Vol. 2) 39 [Untitled] 40
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With him more Content I had found T
Page 27 and 28: [Untitled] 46 [p.] 268 Cosmelia’s
Page 29 and 30: (The Grove) 52 [p.] 283 In Behalf o
Page 31 and 32: Horace, B. I, Ode 22. By the Earl o
Page 33 and 34: Fill’d her with thee a daughter f
Page 35 and 36: The labouring Clouds do often rest:
Page 37 and 38: And missing thee, I walk unseen On
Page 39 and 40: How err unblest along th’ Eternal
Page 41 and 42: For every Charm a Pang thou shalt r
Page 43 and 44: And pour her blackest Horrors on th
Page 45 and 46: Hampton-Gay 69 Fancy, sprightly Nym
Page 47 and 48: No more the gaudy Tribe we see. Dro
Page 49 and 50: Cowslip, in pale Gold array’d; Li
Page 51 and 52: There the Monarch Oak appears, Son
Page 53 and 54: Yet tho’ I alter, This remains th
Page 55 and 56: The lofty Pine deigns to descend, A
Page 57 and 58: Thou never justly recompensed canst
Page 59 and 60: Why make ’Em both together Lords,
Page 61 and 62: Thine exemplary zeal destroy. Nor P
Page 63 and 64: On the Death of ----- 109 Here lies
Page 65 and 66: On the Coronation 115 With the long
Page 67 and 68: Graved in your Bosom let his Image
Page 69 and 70: Never, ah never, to return! Z—ds!
Page 71 and 72: Cleaveland122 Give me a woman made
Page 73 and 74: And as from out Thy tortur’d Body
Page 75 and 76: Part of the 104 th Psalm Paraphrash
Page 77: v. 10 He spake! From the tall Mount
Page 81 and 82: Or Dutch low-built and squat, or sl
Page 83 and 84: [Entire page is Blank] 82
Page 85 and 86: An Instrument I take, which not exc
Page 87 and 88: Both will not continue long! O be k
Page 89 and 90: Mr Broome 141 The Rose-bud: To a Yo
Page 91 and 92: [ D]: If in the murmuring Stream by
Page 93 and 94: Come, fix thy pleasing Empire in my
Page 95 and 96: Come Thou chaste Maid, here ever le
Page 97 and 98: The Lord of Nature fram’d the sho
Page 99 and 100: And thro’ the Waves, a living Isl
Page 101 and 102: There oft’ are heard the notes of
Page 103 and 104: Sing Ditton Besh-t on And Whiston B
Page 105 and 106: Song 174 I Said to my Heart, betwee
Page 107 and 108: Stella’s Birthday 176 1718 Stella
Page 109 and 110: On the Death of Dr. Freind 181 In M
Page 111 and 112: What tho’ no weeping Loves thy As
Page 113 and 114: Soon as thy Letters trembling I unc
Page 115 and 116: Ah think at least thy Flock deserve
Page 117 and 118: Oh come! oh teach me Nature to subd
Page 119 and 120: In Seas of Flame my plunging Soul i
Page 121 and 122: May One kind Grave unite each haple
Page 123 and 124: The Sick and Eeak the Healing Plant
Page 125 and 126: The Lambs with Wolves shall graze t
Page 127 and 128: Dryden’s Miscellany Vol 3 To a Yo
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The silent Globe is struck with awf
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Of Sov’reign force to soften Care
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A F—. 208 Gentlest Blast of ill C
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Vol. 6 Alcidor. By a Lady 212 While
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January and May: or The Merchant’
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He said; the Rest in diff’rent Pa
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order. Still one by one, in swift s
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Were it by forceful Destiny decreed
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Blind as He was, not doubting all w
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Help, dearest Lord, and save at onc
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Epitaph on M. W. 233 In even Scale,
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Which Power Almighty would in vain
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Tho’ his by Nature’s Bonds, by
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May some brave Youth with Well-tim
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Can scarce the distant azure Bounds
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This World so Fair, of Joy the brig
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Nor Monuments alone, and Burial Ear
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The Leaves that tremble in the Shad
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There all the Clouds condensed, Two
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My Light, my Life, my God, my Savio
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Th’ Almighty Judge bends forward
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“Never! Where falls the Soul at t
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But I attempt the wondrous Height i
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Enter the Sacred Temple of thy Brea
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Life 292 I made a Posie, while the
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Providence 297 O sacred Providence,
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When yet some Places could no Moist
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Mr. Randolph “On His own Picture
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“The Pulley” 176 “Submission
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