5

To a Lady with the Last Day.

MADAM,

HERE,

ERE, sacred truths, in lofty numbers told,
The prospect of a future state unfold:
The realms of night to mortal view display,
And the glad regions of eternal day.
This daring author scorns, by vulgar ways
Of guilty wit, to merit worthless praise.
Full of her glorious theme, his tow'ring muse,
With gen'rous zeal, a nobler fame pursues :
Religion's cause her ravish'd heart inspires,
And with a thousand bright ideas fires;
Transports her quick, impatient, piercing eye.
O'er the strait limits of mortality,

To boundless orbs, and bids her fearless soar,
Where only MILTON gain'd renown before;
Where various scenes alternately excite
Amazement, pity, terror, and delight.
Thus did the muses sing in early times,
Ere skill'd to flatter vice, and varnish crimes:
Their lyres were tun'd to Virtue's sons alone,
And the chaste poet, and the priest, were one.
But now, forgetful of their infant state,
They sooth the wanton pleasures of the great :
And from the press, and the licentious stage,
With luscious poison taint the thoughtless age;
Deceitful charms attract our wond'ring eyes,
And specious ruin unsuspected lies.

So the rich soil of India's blooming shores,
Adorn'd with lavish nature's choicest stores,

Where serpents lurk, by flow'rs conceal'd from sight,
Hides fatal danger under gay delight.

These purer thoughts from gross alloys refin'd,
With heav'nly raptures elevate the mind:
Not fram'd to raise a giddy short-liv'd joy,
Whose false allurements, while they please, destroy;
But bliss resembling that of saints above,
Sprung from the vision of th' Almighty Love:
Firm, solid bliss, for ever great and new,

The more 'tis known, the more admir'd like you;
Like you, fair nymph, in whom united meet
Endearing sweetness, unaffected wit,

And all the glories of your sparkling race,
While inward virtues heighten ev'ry grace.
By these secur'd, you will with pleasure read
Of future judgment, and the rising dead;

Of time's grand period, heav'n and earth o'erthrown;
And gasping nature's last tremendous groan.
These, when the stars and sun shall be no more,

Shall beauty to your ravag'd form restore :
Then shall you shine with an immortal ray,
Improv'd by death, and brighten'd by decay.

Pemb. Coll.

Oxon.

T. TRISTRAM.

ΤΟ

THE AUTHOR,

ON HIS

LAST DAY AND UNIVERSAL PASSION.

AND must it be as thou hast sung,

Celestial bard, seraphic YOUNG?

Will there no trace, no point be found
Of all this spacious glorious round?
Yon lamps of light, must they decay?
On nature's self, destruction prey?
Then fame, the most immortal thing
Ev'n thou canst hope, is on the wing.
Shall NEWTON'S system be admir'd,
When time and motion are expir'd?
Shall souls be curious to explore
Who rul'd an orb that is no more?
Or shall they quote the pictur'd age,
From POPE's and Thy corrective page,
When vice and virtue lose their name
In deathless joy, or endless shame ?
While wears away the grand machine,
The works of genius shall be seen :
Beyond, what laurels can there be,
For HOMER, HORACE, POPE, or THEE?
Thro' life we chase, with fond pursuit,
What mocks our hope, like Sodom's fruit:

To cure this madness of the mind;

And sure, thy plan was well design'd,

First, beyond time our thoughts to raise ;
'Then lash our love of transient praise.
In both, we own thy doctrine just;
And fame's a breath, and men are dust.

THE

LAST DAY.

BOOK I.

Ipse pater, media nimborum in nocte, corusca
Fulmina molitur dextra. Quo maxima motu
Terra tremit: fugêre feræ! et mortalia corda
Per gentes humilis stravit pavor.

VIRG.

WHILE others sing the fortune of the Great;
Empire and Arms, and all the pomp
of State;
With Britain's Hero* set their souls on fire,
And grow immortal as his deeds inspire;
I draw a deeper scene: a scene that yields
A louder trumpet, and more dreadful fields;
The world alarm'd, both earth and heav'n o'erthrown,
And gasping nature's last tremendous groan;
Death's antient sceptre broke, the teeming tomb,
The righteous Judge, and man's eternal doom.
'Twixt joy and pain I view the bold design,
And ask my anxious heart, if it be mine,
Whatever great or dreadful has been done
Within the sight of conscious stars or sun,

*The Duke of MARLBOROUGH.