'Tis harmony from yon fequefter'd bow'r,
Sweet harmony that fooths the midnight hour; Long ere the charioteer of day had run
His morning courfe, the enchantment was begun, And he fhall gild yon mountain's height again, Ere yet the pleafing toil becomes a pain.
Is this the rugged path, the steep ascent That virtue points to? Can a life thus fpent Lead to the blifs fhe promises the wife,
Detach the foul from earth, and speed her to the fkies? Ye devotees to your ador'd employ,
Enthufiafts, drunk with an unreal joy
Love makes the mufic of the bleft above,
Heav'ns harmony is univerfal love;
And earthly founds, tho' fweet and well combin'd,
And lenient as foft opiates to the mind,
Leave vice and folly unfubdu'd behind.
Grey dawn appears, the sportsman and his train
Speckle the befom of the diftant plain,
'Tis he, the Nimrod of the neighb'ring lairs,
Save that his fcent is lefs acute than their's;
For perfevering chace, and headlong leaps,
True beagle as the flauncheft hound he keeps.
Charg'd with the folly of his life's mad fcene,
He takes offence, and wonders what you mean;
The joy, the danger and the toil o'erpays,
"Tis exercife, and health and length of days;
Again impetuous to the field he flies,
Leaps ev'ry fence but one, there falls and dies; Like a flain deer, the tumbrel brings him home, Uamifs'd but by his dogs and by his groom.
Ye clergy, while your orbit is your place,. Lights of the world, and stars of human race,. But if eccentric you forfake your sphere, Prodigious, ominous, and view'd with fear; The comet's baneful influence is a dream, Your's real and pernicious in th' extreme. What then are appetites and lufts laid down, With the fame eafe that man puts on his gown? Will av'rice and concupifcence give place,
Charm'd by the founds, your rev'rence, or your grace?
No. But his own engagement binds him fast,
Or if it does not, brands him to the last
What atheists call him, a defigning knave,
A mere church juggler, hypocrite and slave.
Oh laugh, or mourn with me, the rueful jeft,
A caffock'd huntsman, and a fiddling priest;
He from Italian fongfters takes his cue,
Set Paul to mufic he fhall quote him too.
He takes the field, the mafter of the pack
Cries, well done, Saint-and claps him on the back.. Is this the path of fanctity? Is this
To and a way-mark in the road to blifs?
Himself a wand'rer from the narrow way,
His filly fheep, what wonder if they stray?
Go, caft your orders at your Bishop's feet,
Send your dishonour'd gown to Monmouth Street,
The facred function, in your hands is made,.
Sad Sacrilege! no function but a trade.
Occiduus is a paftor of renown,
When he has pray'd and preach'd the fabbath down,
With wire and catgut he concludes the day,
Quav'ring and femiquav'ring care away.
The full concerto fwells upon your ear;
All elbows shake. Look in, and you would fwear
The Babylonian tyrant with a nod
Had fummon'd him to ferve his golden Godz
So well that thought th' employment seems to fuit,,
Pfalt'ry and fackbut, dulcimer,, and flute..
Oh fie! 'Tis evangelical and pure,
Obferve each face, how fober and demure,
Extacy fets her stamp on ev'ry mien,
Chins fall'n, and not an eye-ball to be seen.
Still I infift, though mufic heretofore
Has charm'd me much, not ev'n Occiduus more,
Love, joy and peace, make harmony more meet
For fabbath ev'nings, and perhaps as sweet.
Will not the fickliest sheep of ev'ry flock,
Refort to this example as a rock,
There stand and justify the foul abuse
Of fabbath hours, with plaufible excuse?
If apoftolic gravity be free
To play the fool on Sundays, why not we?:
If he, the tinkling harpfichord regards
As inoffenfive, what offence in cards;
Strike up the fiddles, let us all be gay,
Laymen have leave to dance, if parfons play..
Oh Italy Thy fabbaths will be foon
Our fabbaths, clos'd with mumm'ry and buffoon.
Preaching and pranks will share the motly scene,
Our's parcell'd out, as thine have ever been,
God's worship and the mountebank between.
What fays the prophet? Let that day be bleft.
With, holiness and confecrated reft..
Paftime and bus'nefs both it should exclude,
And bar the door the moment they intrude;
Nobly distinguish'd above all the fix,
By deeds in which the world must never mix..
Hear him again. He calls it a delight,.
A day of luxury,, obferv'd aright..
When the glad foul is made heav'ns welcome guest,,
Sits banquetting, and God provides the feast.
But triflers are engag'd and cannot come;
Their answer to the call is-Not at home..
Oh the dear pleasures of the velvet plain,.
The painted tablets, dealt and dealt again.
Cards with what rapture, and the polish'd die,
The yawning chaẩm of indolence supply!
Then to the dance, and make the fober moon
Witness of joys that fhun the fight of noon.
Blame, cynic, if you can, quadrille or ball,
The fnug clofe party, or the fplendid hall,
Where night down-flooping from her ebon throne,
Views conftellations brighter than her own.
"Tis innocent, and harmlefs, and refin'd,
The balm of care, elyfium of the mind.
Innocent! Oh if venerable time:
Slain at the foot of pleasure, be no crime,
Then with his filver beard and magic wand,
Let Comus rife Archbishop of the land,
Let him your rubric and your feasts prescribe,
Grand metropolitan of all the tribe.
Of manners rough, and courfe athletic caft,:
The rank debauch fuits Clodio's filthy taste..
Rufillus, exquifitely form'd by rule,
Not of the moral, but the dancing school,,
Wonders at Clodio's follies, in a tone
As tragical, as others at his own.
He cannot drink five bottles, bilk the fcore,
Then kill a conftable, and drink five more;
But he can draw a pattern, make a tart,
And has the ladies etiquette by heart..
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