Who, bless'd in vain with tumid bosoms, hear
His tender wailings with unfeeling ear;
385 The soothing kiss and milky rill deny
To the sweet pouting lip, and glistening eye!--
Ah! what avails the cradle's damask roof,
The eider bolster, and embroider'd woof!--
Oft hears the gilded couch unpity'd plains,
390 And many a tear the tassel'd cushion stains!
No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest,
So soft no pillow, as his Mother's breast!--
--Thus charm'd to sweet repose, when twilight hours
Shed their soft influence on celestial bowers,
395 The Cherub, Innocence, with smile divine
Shuts his white wings, and sleeps on Beauty's shrine.


[_Ah! what avails_. l. 387. From an elegant little poem of Mr.
Jerningham's intitled Il Latte, exhorting ladies to nurse their own
children.]


XI. "From dome to dome when flames infuriate climb,
Sweep the long street, invest the tower sublime;
Gild the tall vanes amid the astonish'd night,
400 And reddening heaven returns the sanguine light;
While with vast strides and bristling hair aloof
Pale Danger glides along the falling roof;
And Giant Terror howling in amaze
Moves his dark limbs across the lurid blaze.
405 NYMPHS! you first taught the gelid wave to rise