AN
                      ELEGY
                          ON
               MODERATION.

OFF SPRING Divine ! Parent of Peace and Love !
Delight of Heav'n, whoſe Joys thou can'ſt improve !
To Men for Comfort ſent, like the CELESTIAL DOVE.
Drooping and Sad with thy fair bending Head,
Thou to that Bleſt Society art fled.
ASTREA ſo, with juſt Reſentment fir'd,
Wearied with Vice, from Men to Gods retir'd.
Why, Lovely Virtue, haſt thou BRITAIN left,
In THEE of its Chief Ornament bereft ?
With Modern Raging Zeal ill cou'dſt THOU dwell,
And the Fierce Spirit of Sacheberell.
Who, tho' his Maſter Meekneſs did require,
Like Stern ELIJAH wou'd Convert by Fire.
Ill cou'dſt THOV ſuch Mock-Loyalty endure,
As would Rebellion by Rebellion cure.
Ill cou'dſt THOV Crouds and Factious Rabbles bear,
Who with rude Noiſe diſturb the peaceful Air ;
The Lowly and the Gentle are TH Care.
LO D, BVRNET, FOWLER, humble TENISON,
TALBOT and WAKE, and TRIMNEL are thy own ;
And Sweet-Tongued FLEETWOOD, Glories of the Gown.
Willis and KENNET, in a lower Sphere,
And BRADFORD in that Glorious Train appear.
Ill coud'ſt THOV dwell, where the ſworn Foes of Peace
And angry Sons of Thunder onely pleaſe.
Where Fire and Brimſtone from the Pulpits hurl'd
By our young Phaëtons, inflame the World.
Unlike th' Almighty, in a ſmall ſtill Voice
Deſcending, not in Earthquakes, Wind or Noiſe.
O QUEEN of Virtues ! pity us once more,
And viſit thoſe thy Abſence who deplore.
BRITAIN no more THE HAPPY ISLE will be,
And the Worlds Envy, if forſook by THEE.
Without THEE Churches into Parties run,
Faction prevails, and Kingdoms are undone.
With THEE ſucceſsful Years rowl round again,
Love, Joy, and blooming Plenty are thy Train.
Credit without THEE finks, and Trade decays :
THOV canſt again their Heads triumphant raiſe.
Ev'n Treaſures in thy Abſence diſappear,
Nor will be ſeen again, till THOV art here.
And if WE may be Prophets and divine,
THOU wilt once more on Bleſt BRITANNIA ſhine.
Favour'd by Heav'n a People muſt be Great,
And flouriſh:—WHO can Providence defeat ?
Bit by Larantulas we long have rav'd,
By Pow'rs unſeen ſcarce from Self-Murther ſav'd.
THT Tuneful Voice, like Muſick, can revive
Expiring States, and once more bid 'em live.

                                                       FINIS.