Religious and Moral Poems | Page 4

The Rev. Mr. Saumel Mather,?Joseph Green, Esq; | The Rev. Mr. John Moorhead,?Richard Carey, Esq; | Mr. John Wheat ey, her Master.
N. B. The original Attestation, signed by the above Gentlemen,?may be seen by applying to Archibald Bell, Bookseller,?No. 8, Aldgate-Street.

*The Words "following Page," allude to the Contents?of the Manuscript Copy, with are wrote at the?Back of the above Attestation.
P O E M S
O N
V A R I O U S S U B J E C T S.

To M AE C E N A S.
MAECENAS, you, beneath the myrtle shade,?Read o'er what poets sung, and shepherds play'd.?What felt those poets but you feel the same??Does not your soul possess the sacred flame??Their noble strains your equal genius shares?In softer language, and diviner airs.?While Homer paints, lo! circumfus'd in air,?Celestial Gods in mortal forms appear;?Swift as they move hear each recess rebound,?Heav'n quakes, earth trembles, and the shores resound.?Great Sire of verse, before my mortal eyes,?The lightnings blaze across the vaulted skies,?And, as the thunder shakes the heav'nly plains,?A deep felt horror thrills through all my veins.?When gentler strains demand thy graceful song,?The length'ning line moves languishing along.?When great Patroclus courts Achilles' aid,?The grateful tribute of my tears is paid;?Prone on the shore he feels the pangs of love,?And stern Pelides tend'rest passions move.?Great Maro's strain in heav'nly numbers flows,?The Nine inspire, and all the bosom glows.?O could I rival thine and Virgil's page,?Or claim the Muses with the Mantuan Sage;?Soon the same beauties should my mind adorn,?And the same ardors in my soul should burn:?Then should my song in bolder notes arise,?And all my numbers pleasingly surprise;?But here I sit, and mourn a grov'ling mind,?That fain would mount, and ride upon the wind.?Not you, my friend, these plaintive strains become,?Not you, whose bosom is the Muses home;?When they from tow'ring Helicon retire,?They fan in you the bright immortal fire,?But I less happy, cannot raise the song,?The fault'ring music dies upon my tongue.?The happier Terence* all the choir inspir'd,?His soul replenish'd, and his bosom fir'd;?But say, ye Muses, why this partial grace,?To one alone of Afric's sable race;?From age to age transmitting thus his name?With the finest glory in the rolls of fame??Thy virtues, great Maecenas! shall be sung?In praise of him, from whom those virtues sprung:?While blooming wreaths around thy temples spread,?I'll snatch a laurel from thine honour'd head,?While you indulgent smile upon the deed.
*He was an African by birth.
As long as Thames in streams majestic flows,?Or Naiads in their oozy beds repose?While Phoebus reigns above the starry train?While bright Aurora purples o'er the main,?So long, great Sir, the muse thy praise shall sing,?So long thy praise shal' make Parnassus ring:?Then grant, Maecenas, thy paternal rays,?Hear me propitious, and defend my lays.
O N V I R T U E.
O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive?To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare?Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.?I cease to wonder, and no more attempt?Thine height t' explore, or fathom thy profound.?But, O my soul, sink not into despair,?Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand?Would now embrace thee, hovers o'er thine head.?Fain would the heav'n-born soul with her converse,?Then seek, then court her for her promis'd bliss.
Auspicious queen, thine heav'nly pinions spread,?And lead celestial Chastity along;?Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,?Array'd in glory from the orbs above.?Attend me, Virtue, thro' my youthful years!?O leave me not to the false joys of time!?But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.?Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,?To give me an higher appellation still,?Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,?O thou, enthron'd with Cherubs in the realms of day.
TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE,?IN NEW-ENGLAND.
WHILE an intrinsic ardor prompts to write,?The muses promise to assist my pen;?'Twas not long since I left my native shore?The land of errors, and Egyptain gloom:?Father of mercy, 'twas thy gracious hand?Brought me in safety from those dark abodes.
Students, to you 'tis giv'n to scan the heights?Above, to traverse the ethereal space,?And mark the systems of revolving worlds.?Still more, ye sons of science ye receive?The blissful news by messengers from heav'n,?How Jesus' blood for your redemption flows.?See him with hands out-stretcht upon the cross;?Immense compassion in his bosom glows;?He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn:?What matchless mercy in the Son of God!?When the whole human race by sin had fall'n,?He deign'd to die that they might rise again,?And share with him in the sublimest skies,?Life without death, and glory without end.
Improve your privileges while they stay,?Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears?Or good or bad report of you to heav'n.?Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul,?By you be shun'd, nor once remit your guard;?Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg.?Ye blooming plants of human race divine,?An Ethiop tells you 'tis your greatest foe;?Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain,?And