Thomas Tickell

Fight virtue's cause, stand up in wit's defence,
Win us from vice, and laugh us into sense.

I hear a voice you cannot hear, Which says I must not stay;
I see a hand you cannot see, Which beckons me away.

The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.

A snow of blossoms and a wild of flowers.

Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss conveyed
A fairer spirit or more welcome shade.

though every friend be fled,
Lo! Envy waits, that lover of the dead.

Just men, by whom impartial laws were given;
And saints who taught and led the way to heaven.

Prevent the rising sun.

Achilles' fatal wrath, whence discord rose,
That brought the sons of Greece unnumber'd woes,
O Goddess! sing. Full many a hero's ghost
Was driven untimely to th' infernal coast,
While in promiscuous heaps their bodies lay,
A feast for dogs and every bird of prey.
So did the sire of gods and men fulfil
His stedfast purpose and almighty will;
What time the haughty chiefs their jars begun,
Atrides, king of men, and Peleus' godlike son.

There patient show'd us the wise course to steer,
A candid censor, and a friend severe;
There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

He 'midst the graceful of superior grace,
And she the loveliest of the loveliest race.