VERSES то THE AUTHOR. N OW let the Atheist tremble; Thou alone Canft bid his confcious heart the Godhead own. Yet more, behold ten thousand thunders fall, When guilty Sodom felt the burning rain, But tell me, oh! what heav'nly pleasure tell, Beyond this world the labour to pursue, all ETERNITY to view? And open But thou art beft delighted to rehearse Magd. Coll. Oxon. T. WARTON. To To a LADY, with the LAST DAY. MADAM, H ERE, facred truths, in lofty numbers told, To boundless orbs, and bids her fearless foar, Thus did the muses fing in early times, |