ON THE LADY MANCHESTER.

WRITTEN ON THE TOASTING-GLASSES OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB.

  While haughty Gallia’s dames, that spread
  O’er their pale cheeks an artful red,
  Beheld this beauteous stranger there,
  In native charms divinely fair;
  Confusion in their looks they show’d;
  And with unborrow’d blushes glow’d.

AN ODE.

  1

  The spacious firmament on high,
  With all the blue ethereal sky,
  And spangled Heavens, a shining frame,
  Their great Original proclaim. 
  The unwearied Sun from day to day
  Does his Creator’s power display;
  And publishes, to every land,
  The work of an almighty hand.

  2

  Soon as the evening shades prevail,
  The Moon takes up the wondrous tale;
  And nightly, to the listening Earth,
  Repeats the story of her birth: 
  Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
  And all the planets, in their turn,
  Confirm the tidings as they roll,
  And spread the truth from pole to pole.

  3

  What though, in solemn silence, all
  Move round the dark terrestrial ball;
  What though no real voice, nor sound
  Amidst their radiant orbs be found: 
  In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
  And utter forth a glorious voice;
  For ever singing as they shine: 
  ‘The hand that made us is divine.’

AN HYMN.

1
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys;
Transported with the view, I’m lost
In wonder, love, and praise.

2
O how shall words with equal warmth
The gratitude declare,
That glows within my ravish’d heart! 
But thou canst read it there.

3
Thy providence my life sustain’d,
And all my wants redress’d,
When in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.

4
To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt
To form themselves in prayer.

5
Unnumber’d comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestow’d,
Before my infant heart conceiv’d
From whence these comforts flow’d.

6
When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unseen convey’d me safe,
And led me up to man.

7
Through hidden dangers, toils, and death,
It gently clear’d my way;
And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be fear’d than they.

8
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew’d my face;
And when in sins and sorrows sunk,
Reviv’d my soul with grace.

9
Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
Has made my cup run o’er,
And in a kind and faithful friend
Has doubled all my store.

  10
       Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
          My daily thanks employ;
       Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
          That tastes those gifts with joy.