On Mrs. W—-'s Voyage to England III

To court thee to Britannia's armsSerene the climes and mild the sky,Her region boasts unnumber'd charms,Thy welcome smiles in ev'ry eye.Thy promise, Neptune keep, record my pray'r,Not give my wishes to the empty air.

INDULGENT muse! my grov'ling mind inspire,And fill my bosom with celestial fire.See from Jamaica's fervid shore she moves,Like the fair mother of the blooming loves,When from above the Goddess with her handFans the soft breeze, and lights upon the land;Thus she on Neptune's wat'ry realm reclin'dAppear'd, and thus invites the ling'ring wind."Arise, ye winds, America explore,"Waft me, ye gales, from this malignant shore;"The Northern milder climes I long to greet,"There hope that health will my arrival meet."Soon as she spoke in my ideal viewThe winds assented, and the vessel flew.Madam, your spouse bereft of wife and son,In the grove's dark recesses pours his moan;Each branch, wide-spreading to the ambient sky,Forgets its verdure, and submits to die.From thence I turn, and leave the sultry plain,And swift pursue thy passage o'er the main:The ship arrives before the fav'ring wind,And makes the Philadelphian port assign'd,Thence I attend you to Bostonia's arms,Where gen'rous friendship ev'ry bosom warms:Thrice welcome here! may health revive again,Bloom on thy cheek, and bound in ev'ry vein!Then back return to gladden ev'ry heart,And give your spouse his soul's far dearer part,Receiv'd again with what a sweet surprise,The tear in transport starting from his eyes!While his attendant son with blooming graceSprings to his father's ever dear embrace.With shouts of joy Jamaica's rocks resound,With shouts of joy the country rings around.

THOUGH thou did'st hear the tempest from afar,And felt'st the horrors of the wat'ry war,To me unknown, yet on this peaceful shoreMethinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar,And how stern Boreas with impetuous handCompell'd the Nereids to usurp the land.Reluctant rose the daughters of the main,And slow ascending glided o'er the plain,Till AEolus in his rapid chariot droveIn gloomy grandeur from the vault above:Furious he comes. His winged sons obeyTheir frantic sire, and madden all the sea.The billows rave, the wind's fierce tyrant roars,And with his thund'ring terrors shakes the shores:Broken by waves the vessel's frame is rent,And strows with planks the wat'ry element.But thee, Maria, a kind Nereid's shieldPreserv'd from sinking, and thy form upheld:And sure some heav'nly oracle design'dAt that dread crisis to instruct thy mindThings of eternal consequence to weigh,And to thine heart just feelings to conveyOf things above, and of the future doom,And what the births of the dread world to come.From tossing seas I welcome thee to land."Resign her, Nereid," 'twas thy God's command.Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceiv'd,Again returns, thy fears are all reliev'd:Thy daughter blooming with superior graceAgain thou see'st, again thine arms embrace;O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir,And what the blessings of maternal care!

O'ERWHELMING sorrow now demands my song:From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung.What flowing tears? What hearts with grief opprest?What sighs on sighs heave the fond parent's breast?The brother weeps, the hapless sisters joinTh' increasing woe, and swell the crystal brine;The poor, who once his gen'rous bounty fed,Droop, and bewail their benefactor dead.In death the friend, the kind companion lies,And in one death what various comfort dies!Th' unhappy mother sees the sanguine rillForget to flow, and nature's wheels stand still,But see from earth his spirit far remov'd,And know no grief recals your best-belov'd:He, upon pinions swifter than the wind,Has left mortality's sad scenes behindFor joys to this terrestial state unknown,And glories richer than the monarch's crown.Of virtue's steady course the prize behold!What blissful wonders to his mind unfold!But of celestial joys I sing in vain:Attempt not, muse, the too advent'rous strain.No more in briny show'rs, ye friends around,Or bathe his clay, or waste them on the ground:Still do you weep, still wish for his return?How cruel thus to wish, and thus to mourn?No more for him the streams of sorrow pour,But haste to join him on the heav'nly shore,On harps of gold to tune immortal lays,And to your God immortal anthems raise.

To a GENTLEMAN and LADY on the Deathof the Lady's Brother and Sister, and aChild of the Name of Avis, aged one Year.

ON Death's domain intent I fix my eyes,Where human nature in vast ruin lies:With pensive mind I search the drear abode,Where the great conqu'ror has his spoils bestow'd;There where the offspring of six thousand yearsIn endless numbers to my view appears:Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are thrust,And nations mix with their primeval dust:Insatiate still he gluts the ample tomb;His is the present, his the age to come.See here a brother, here a sister spread,And a sweet daughter mingled with the dead.But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside,And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd,In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain,Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain,Your pains they witness, but they can no more,While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal shore.The glowing stars and silver queen of lightAt last must perish in the gloom of night:Resign thy friends to that Almighty hand,Which gave them life, and bow to his command;Thine Avis give without a murm'ring heart,Though half thy soul be fated to depart.To shining guards consign thine infant careTo waft triumphant through the seas of air:Her soul enlarg'd to heav'nly pleasure springs,She feeds on truth and uncreated things.Methinks I hear her in the realms above,And leaning forward with a filial love,Invite you there to share immortal blissUnknown, untasted in a state like this.With tow'ring hopes, and growing grace arise,And seek beatitude beyond the skies.

THROUGH thickest glooms look back, immortal shade,On that confusion which thy death has made:Or from Olympus' height look down, and seeA Town involv'd in grief bereft of thee.Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead,And rends the graceful tresses from her head,Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprestSigh follows sigh deep heaving from her breast.Too quickly fled, ah! whither art thou gone?Ah! lost for ever to thy wife and son!The hapless child, thine only hope and heir,Clings round his mother's neck, and weeps his sorrows there.The loss of thee on Tyler's soul returns,And Boston for her dear physician mourns.When sickness call'd for Marshall's healing hand,With what compassion did his soul expand?In him we found the father and the friend:In life how lov'd! how honour'd in his end!And must not then our AEsculapius stayTo bring his ling'ring infant into day?The babe unborn in the dark womb is tost,And seems in anguish for its father lost.Gone is Apollo from his house of earth,But leaves the sweet memorials of his worth:The common parent, whom we all deplore,From yonder world unseen must come no more,Yet 'midst our woes immortal hopes attendThe spouse, the sire, the universal friend.

WHILE others chant of gay Elysian scenes,Of balmy zephyrs, and of flow'ry plains,My song more happy speaks a greater name,Feels higher motives and a nobler flame.For thee, O R-----, the muse attunes her strings,And mounts sublime above inferior things.I sing not now of green embow'ring woods,I sing not now the daughters of the floods,I sing not of the storms o'er ocean driv'n,And how they howl'd along the waste of heav'n.But I to R----- would paint the British shore,And vast Atlantic, not untry'd before:Thy life impair'd commands thee to arise,Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies,Where chilling winds return the winter past,And nature shudders at the furious blast.O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing mainExert thy wonders to the world again!If ere thy pow'r prolong'd the fleeting breath,Turn'd back the shafts, and mock'd the gates of death,If ere thine air dispens'd an healing pow'r,Or snatch'd the victim from the fatal hour,This equal case demands thine equal care,And equal wonders may this patient share.But unavailing, frantic is the dreamTo hope thine aid without the aid of himWho gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow,And in thy waves his various blessings show.May R----- return to view his native shoreReplete with vigour not his own before,Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise,And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!

To the Rev. DR. THOMAS AMORY, onreading his Sermons on DAILY DEVOTION,in which that Duty is recommended andassisted.

TO cultivate in ev'ry noble mindHabitual grace, and sentiments refin'd,Thus while you strive to mend the human heart,Thus while the heav'nly precepts you impart,O may each bosom catch the sacred fire,And youthful minds to Virtue's throne aspire!When God's eternal ways you set in sight,And Virtue shines in all her native light,In vain would Vice her works in night conceal,For Wisdom's eye pervades the sable veil.Artists may paint the sun's effulgent rays,But Amory's pen the brighter God displays:While his great works in Amory's pages shine,And while he proves his essence all divine,The Atheist sure no more can boast aloudOf chance, or nature, and exclude the God;As if the clay without the potter's aidShould rise in various forms, and shapes self-made,Or worlds above with orb o'er orb profoundSelf-mov'd could run the everlasting round.It cannot be--unerring Wisdom guidesWith eye propitious, and o'er all presides.Still prosper, Amory! still may'st thou receiveThe warmest blessings which a muse can give,And when this transitory state is o'er,When kingdoms fall, and fleeting Fame's no more,May Amory triumph in immortal fame,A nobler title, and superior name!