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From my Bookfeller's, March 23, 1750.

Need not, I believe, make any apology for presenting my readers with the following excellent lines by the ingenious Mr. BROWNE. They are defigned to appear in a Second Part of his Poem entitled SUNDAY THOUGHTS, which is fhortly expected from the prefs. But on account of their temporary relation to what has fo lately alarm'd our metropolis, he has permitted us to give them a more early publication. They will however be read with much greater advantage in the Poem, where they are introduced as part of the author's reflections, in a religious contemplative walk, while he is taking refuge, during a thunder-form, within the walls of a folitary ruin'd abbey.

Seafonable REFLECTIONS on the two late EARTHQUAKES.

STIL

TILL rofe the Morn. Security had lull'd
The flatter'd Sons of Vice in falfe repofe.
Heav'n of its dread intent no portent gave;
Ah! too, too obvious in our general crimes.
Pleasure had lent to Time her filken wings;
And to her Syrens danc'd his wanton hours,
Thoughtless of change. Mirth wore her livelieft fmile:
And Eafe fat liftlefs on AUGUSTA's walls.

When, inftantaneous, Earth's huge cumb'rous mass
Heav'd with ftrange pang, and deep refounds her groan.
All at the fignal rouze, but ftretch them foon

In Folly's dallying lap, and hush their fear.
The Month her circle had in paftimes clos'd;
Again-another-a repeated shock,
A louder voice of Horrour more fevere,

Starts the dead flumb'rers from their impious dream.

Where

Where fly the threaten'd wretches? where? where, now,

For with'd relief?—To fuppliant Penitence?

To fafts to mournings? to the House of Pray'r?
A pofture due. Ah! no; To plays! to Sports!
To midnight revels! nearest match'd in guilt
To thofe of Fiends! the Jubilee of Hell!
Hear it not, Strangers! our difgrace outbraves
All parallel; in two amazing days,

In each, an Earthquake! and in each, a Ball!

Has Man his hours in charge? important trust!
All lent! all number'd! all with duty tax'd!
In Sloth to ruft? in Luxury to waste?
To lofe in fenfual feculence at will?

Like heedlefs gamesters, defp'rate in their play!
What are their rank Amours, that dare the fun
In day's broad eye? amid the numerous Stews,
Affronting with impunity our streets?
Of fhameless youth the fashionable Schools!
All Order, Ties, Relation, heav'ns wife Law,
Made the Drol's laugh, and broke: for Modes of Sin.
What are their Meetings at the fwinifh board
Of boafted Fellowship? their roaring bands?
But Circe's monsters, wallowing o'er their trough!
What, their Affemblies, for politeneís fam'd?
Nurs'ries of Pride, and lewd Intrigue, and Fraud
In lavish play; base luft of furtive gold !-
Health, innocence, and precious minutes, loft!
Immortal minds, amus'd o'er painted toys!
View it not, Angels! to enhance your fcorn
Of man, already in your fight too mean!

Oh!

BRITAIN!-oh!-maternal weeping land!

Thefe are thy Chriftians! fham'd by Pagan climes!
Thefe thy fad prospects! this thy hopeless race!
Mature for ruin!-

Should the dreaded blow

Seize

Seize them, immers'd in acts of daring fin!
Should heav'n its fcenes of horrour then difclofe;

The yawning earth! funk street! and cracking pile!—————
Harktis at hand!Prepare to meet thy GOD!
Thy GoD, O Britain! thy tremendous Judge!
Thy Judge incens'd! Omnipotence in wrath!
A dreadful foe! he speaks-but fpares the stroke.
Love wrefts the vengeance from his lifted arm.
O, timely, be attentive! hear, hear, hear
His monitory voice! his awful, loud,

Yet gentle call!-Mild Saviour! friend of Man!
Pour in large ftreams thy foft'ning SPIRIT down
To melt the native rock in human hearts!
Dear, bleeding Advocate! our hapless state
Commiferate, all gracious; bow thy ear
Pitying, to fuppliant duft! thy people's pray'rs,
The matron's tears, our infants' helpless cries
Invoke thee, "Oh, avert! avert our doom!"

To thefe pious and pathetic reflections it may not be amifs to fubjoin, as communicated in a letter from London,

A MODERN CONVERSATION on the fame fubject.

I

Went yesterday to pay a vifit to Mrs. DAVENPORt, a widow lady of good fortune, who partakes of all the gaieties of the town, without entering into any of the vices. We were foon interrupted by an inundation of vifitants, no less than five; old lady D- with her daughter about twenty, and her fon about eighteen, who was just come from an Academy, and had fpent the laft winter in town, in order (as his mother said) to attain a knowledge of the world. The other two were Mifs LAURENCE, and Mifs SMITH, near relations, who (as they were neither of them married) had lived in town together for above twenty years.

Numb. II..

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Our

Our discourse naturally turn'd upon the earthquake, which was introduc'd by Mrs. DAVENPORT's asking Lady Dif fhe had feen the Bishop of London's excellent letter on that subject? The young gentleman would not give his mother time to reply, but utter'd the following words fo fast that he was quite out of breath: "Yes indeed, I've read that excellent letter, as you call it, and think it's well enough to frighten poor ignorant old women and children, and keep up that fuperftitious dread of judgments, which makes people fo cafily prieft-ridden. But for my part I have ftudied natural philofophy, and know the natural caufes of these fort of things; and whether 'twas an earth or an air-quake, whether caus'd by nitrous particles in the earth or explosion in the air, I know there was no miracle in't, and 'twas only the voice of nature, not (as parfons would perfuade us) the voice of God."

While this very learned fpeech was a making, the old lady gaz'd round for approbation of her fon. Shock'd with the impiety of it, Mrs. DAVENPORT would have replied, when Mrs. LAURENCE rais'd her voice as loud as the could, "I wonder how folks can make fuch a rout about nothing. Indeed I was vex'd to be wak'd out of my firft fleep, at that time o' the morning: but I've fince been fufficiently diverted by the odd things filly people fay about it." "As for me (fays Mrs. SMITH) I was fo found asleep, having fet up the two nights before at Brag, I neither heard nor felt it but I've fo much curiofity to know how it was, I could almost wish to have been awake at the time.

to her daughter).

"Pray, my dear, (fays Lady Dtell the ladies your witty device on the earthquake." Why, (cries Mifs in a rapture) I advis'd my aunt BROWN, who is very fond of routs, to invite her acquaintance by defiring their company at her quake, he, he, he. It took mightily; for, you know, ev'ry body is quite tir'd of the names of routs, drums, hurricanes, tempefts, whirlwinds, and the like."

After

After this very fashionable dialogue, the company broke up in a hurry, having, as they said, fifty vifits more to pay that evening. When they were gone, Mrs. DAVENPORT, in her ufual fenfible manner, exprefs'd her furprize, that any woman could breed up her children in fuch impiety; and added, that if the reputation of wit and humour were thus to be gain'd, the should think it a disgrace to attain it.

I

To the STUDENT.

Mr. STUDENT,

Am verily perfuaded your scheme will never take, and

two reafons. The firft is becaufe of the Title you have honour'd it with: the fecond (which indeed flows from the first) because you have not fufficiently engaged the LADIES in your party. Confider how cdious you make yourself to them, by that very ridiculous title you have affum'dThe STUDENT! A name of all others most scorn'd by 'em, and that indeed very juftly: for if thou art a very Student, a mere Book-worm, I congratulate thee on the glorious calling; and ere I begin an acquaintance, beg leave to fhake hands and bid thee adieu. But I am willing, dear Brother, to think better of you: I am of opinion, (and prejudice goes far) you are a man arm'd at all points, a very honest gallant fellow; and if fo, I doubt not you'll admit the truth of what I have urg'd, and by your matter make amends for your base title. This leads me to the fecond thing I defign'd to object against you: (mark how according to exact method we men of Cambridge reason) I said, you had not engag’d the LADIES in your party. Your difcourfes are not enough adapted to their tafte: and they it is who make things run, they it is who give grace and glory to every performance; or whatever proceeds from the lips of a SOPHY who fhall dare

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