Poems written on several occasions by N. Tate.

The Prospect.

FRom a tall Praecipice on the Sea-side, A Rev'rend Hermite view'd the spreading Tide: The Flood tho curl'd with a becoming Wave, No Sign of any rising Tempest gave. A goodly Ship was coasting by the Place, Like a proud Courser foaming in her Pace: With flatt'ring Courtship the lascivious Gails Her Streamers furle, and wanton in her Sails. The Waves divide to give the Pageant way; Then closing, with rais'd Heads the Pomp survey. Whilst the grave Man this Spectacle intends, Pleas'd with the Scene a suddain Storm descends,

That in one Instant rifles all the Boat, Whose scatter'd Streamers on the Billows float. Reflects at large on this disastrous Sight, Then, to his Cell return'd, the Anchorite Of earthly Greatness weighs th' uncertain State, Which, in its fairest Bloom, and proudest Height, Stands most expos'd to Storms of suddain Fate.