Here various bloffoms fmile in fancy's line, Ælia with mufic fills the lofty skies; This power they have: alas! blind Cupid's dart ! SE C T. CXV. A SONG BY MR. WHITEHEAD SUNG BY MR. BEARD AT THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE PRESIDENT, VICE-PRESIDENTS, GOVERNORS, &C. OF THE LONDON HOSPITAL. I. OF trophies and laurels I mean not to fing, Of Prussia's brave prince, or of Britain's good king: Here the poor claim my fong; then the art I'll display, How you all shall be gainers-by giving away. II. The cruse of the widow, you very well know, * One year, through inadvertency, the collection for the benefit of the hofpital was made before this fong was called for. Mr. Beard, being requested to fing it afterwards, replied, that, as the company had given their charity, it could not answer the end for which it was intended. The duke of Devonshire, however, infisted that it should be fung, and a fecond collection made, which amounted to 700 guineas, whereof the duke himself contributed ten guineas. Such is the effect of a fenfible, well-timed fong. III. The III. The prodigal here without danger may spend ; IV. The gamester, who fits up whole days and whole nights, V. ; The fair one, whose heart the four aces controul, Who fighs for fans-prendre, and dreams of a vole, Let her here fend a tithe of her gains at Quadrille, And she'll ne'er want a friend-in victorious Spadille. VI. Let the merchant, who trades on the perilous fea, For fafe is the venture-which Heaven infures. VII. The ftock-jobber, too, may fubfcribe without fear, In a fund which for ever a premium must bear; Where the stock must still rife, and where fcrip will prevail, Tho' South-Sea, and India, and Omnia should fail. The churchman likewise his advantage may draw, * Additional stanza for the annual feast of the Sons of the Clergy. In Heaven, I mean; then, without any fear, Ye* rakes, who the joys of Hymen disclaim, You may here boast a triumph confiftent with duty, X. If from charity then fuch advantages flow, That you Then a health to that patron †, whofe grandeur and ftore Yield aid and defence to the fick and the poor; Whom no courtier can flatter, no patriot can blame : But, our Prefident's here-or I'd tell you his name. WHEN the fad foul, by care and grief oppreft, Looks round the world, but looks in vain for reft; When every object that appears in view * Additional stanza for the Magdalen Hofpital. The late Duke of Devonshire. Where Where fhall affliction from itself retire In vain the body breathes a purer air. No ftorm-toft failor fighs for flumbering feas, The ghoft of every former danger glides. But lively gales, and gently-clouded skies, Not Hope herself, with her old flattering art, prepares, And anxious fearches for congenial cares; Thofe lenient cares, which, with our own combin'd, By mixt fenfations eafe th' afflicted mind, And steal our grief away, and leave their own behind.. A lighter grief! which feeling hearts endure Without regret, nor ev'n demand a cure. } But |