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On the Loss of an only Son,


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UR morning's gay and shining;

The days our joys declare; At ev'ning no repining;

And night's all void of care.

A fond transported mother

Was often heard to cry, Oh, where is such another

So bless’d by Heav'n as I?

A child at first was wanting;

Now such a son is sent, As parents most lamenting

In him would find content.

A child, of whom kind Heaven

Not only hope bestows, But has already given

Him all our hopes propose.

The happy fire's possessing

His share in such a boy, Adds still a greater blessing

To all my other joy.

But ah! this shiny weather

Became too hot to last; Black clouds began to gather,

And all the sky o'ercast.

Sò fierce a fever rages,

We all lie drown'd in tears; And dismal sad presages

Come thund'ring in our ears.

The doubts that made us languish,

Did worse, far worse than kill: Yet, oh, with all their anguish,

Would we had doubted still!

Ry why so much digression,

This fatal loss to show? Alas, there's no expression

Can tell a parent's woe!

On Mr. POPE, and his poems.

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ITH age decay'd, with courts and bus'ness tir'd,

Caring for nothing but what ease requir'd,
Too serious now a wanton muse to court,
And from the criticks fafe arriv'd in port;
I little thought of launching forth agen,
Amidst advent'rous rovers of the pen ;
And, after some small undeservd success,
Thus hazarding at last to make it less.

Encomiums suit not this censorious time,
Itself a fubject for satirick rhyme ;
Ignorance honour'd, wit and worth defam'd,
Folly triumphant, and ev'n Homer blam'd.

But to this Genius, join'd with so much aft,
Such various learning mix'd in ev'ry part,
Poets are bound a loud applause to pay;
APOLLO bids it, and they must obey.

And yet so wond'rous, so sublime a thing,
As the great ILIAD, scarce should make me sing;
Except I justly could at once commend
A good companion, and as firm a friend.
One moral, or a mere well-natur'd deed,
Can all desert in sciences exceed.

'Tis great delight to laugh at some mens ways; Buț a much greater to give merit praise.

S T A N Z A S.




my Or fonder zeal for some misguided prince, Shall make my dang'rous humour understood,

For changing ministers for men of sense:

When vainly proud to Thew my publick care,

And ev'n afham'd to see three nations foolid; I shall no longer bear a wretched share

In ruling ill, or being over-ruld:

Then, as old letchers in a winter's night

To yawning hearers all their pranks disclose; And what decay deprives them of delight,

Supply with vain endeavours to impose :

Just fo shall I as idly entertain

Some stripling patriots, fond of seeming wise; Tell, how I stilf cou'd great employments gain, Without concealing truths, or whisp'ring lyes;

Boast of succeeding in my country's cause

Ev'n against some almost too high to blame; Whom, when advanc'd beyond the reach of laws,

I oft have ridicul'd to sense and shame:

Say, I resisted the most potent fraud;

But friendless merit openly approv'd; And that I was above the being aw'd

Not only by my prince, but those he lov'd:

Who knows but my example then may please

Such noble, hopeful spirits as appear Willing to light their pleasures, and their ease,

For fame and honour? till at last they hear,

After much trouble borne, and danger run,

The crown assisted, and my country serv'd; Without good fortune I had been undone,

Without a good estate I might have starv'd.

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