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 shore Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar, And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand Compell'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 drove In gloomy grandeur from the vault above: Furious he comes. His winged sons obey Their 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 shield Preserv'd from sinking, and thy form upheld: And sure some heav'nly oracle design'd At that dread crisis to instruct thy mind Things of eternal consequence to weigh, And to thine heart just feelings to convey Of 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 grace Again thou see'st, again thine arms embrace; O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir, And what the blessings of maternal care! To a LADY and her Children, on the Death of her Son and their Brother. 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 join Th' 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 rill Forget 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 behind For 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.