s cannot wrong,
But 'spite of time, thou'rt ever young.
Thou art alone Heav'n's modest virgin light.
Whose face a veil of blushes hide from human sight.
At thy approach, nature erects her head;
The smiling universe is glad;
The drowsy earth and seas awake
And from thy beams new life and vigour take.
When thy more chearful rays appear,
Ev'n guilt and women cease to fear;
Horror, despair, and all the sons of night
Retire before thy beams, and take their hasty flight.
Thou risest in the fragrant east,
Like the fair Phoenix from her balmy nest;
But yet thy fading glories soon decay,
Thine's but a momentary stay;
Too soon thou'rt ravish'd from our fight,
Borne down the stream of day, and overwhelm'd with night.
Thy beams to thy own ruin haste,
They're fram'd too exquisite to last:
Thine is a glorious, but a short-liv'd state:
Pity so fair a birth should yield so soon to fate;

Besides these pieces, this reverend gentleman has translated the
second book of Ovid's Art of Love, with several other occasional poems
and translations published in the third and fourth volumes of Tonson's
Miscellanies.

The Medicine, a Tale in the second Volume of the Tatlers, and Mr.
Partridge's Appeal to the Learned World, or a Further Account of the
Manner of his Death, in Prose, are likewise written by him.

[Footnote A: Jacob.]

* * * * *

Mr. JOSEPH MITCHEL,

This gentleman was the son of a Stone-cutter in Scotland, and was
born about the year 1684. He received an university education while
he remained in that kingdom, and having some views of improving his
fortune, repaired to the metropolis. We are not able to recover many
particulars concerning this poet, who was never sufficiently eminent
to excite much curiosity concerning him. By a dissipated imprudent
behaviour he rendered those, who were more intimately acquainted with
him, less sollicitous to preserve the circumstances of his life, which
were so little to his advantage. We find him enjoying the favour of
the earl of Stair, and Sir Robert Walpole, to whom he addresses some
of his poems. He received so many obligations from the latter, and was
so warm in his interest, that he obtained the epithet of Sir Robert
Walpole's Poet, and for a great part of his life had an entire
dependence on the bounty of that munificent statesman. Mr. Mitchel,
who was a slave to his pleasures, a