If evil were thy deeds, repenting mourn,
And let thy foul with ftrong remorse be torn.
If good, the good with peace of mind repay,
And to thy fecret felf with pleasure say,
Rejoice, my heart, for all went well to-day.
Thefe thoughts, and chiefly these thy mind fhould
Employ thy study, and engage thy love.
Thefe are the rules which will to Virtue lead,
And teach thy feet her heavenly paths to tread.
This by his name I fwear, whofe facred lore
First to mankind explain'd the mystic Four,
Source of eternal nature and almighty power.
In all thou dost firft let thy prayers afcend,
And to thy gods thy labours first commend:
From them implore fuccefs, and hope a profperous end.
So fhall thy abler mind be taught to foar,
And wisdom in her fecret ways explore;
To range through heaven above and earth below,
Immortal gods and mortal men to know.
So fhalt thou learn what power does all control,
What bounds the parts, and what unites the whole:
And rightly judge, in all this wondrous frame,
How univerfal Nature is the fame;
So fhalt thou ne'er thy vain affections place
On hopes of what fhall never come to pass.
Man, wretched inan, thou fhalt be taught to know, Who bears within himself the inborn caufe of woe. Unhappy race! that never yet could tell,
How near their good and happiness they dwell.
Depriv'd of fense, they neither hear nor fee;
Fetter'd in vice, they feek not to be free,
But ftupid, to their own fad fate agree:
Like ponderous rolling-ftones, opprefs'd with ill,
The weight that loads them makes them roll on still,
Bereft of choice and freedom of the will;
For native ftrife in every bofom reigns,
And fecretly an impious war maintains :
Provoke not this, but let the combat ceafe,
And every yielding paffion fue for peace.
Would'st thou, great Jove,thou father of mankind,
Reveal the Dæmon for that task affign'd,
The wretched race an end of woes would find.
And yet be bold, O man, divine thou art,
And of the gods celeftial effence part.
Nor facred nature is from thee conceal'd,
But to thy race her myftic rules reveal`d.
These if to know thou happily attain,
Soon fhalt thou perfect be in all that I ordain.
Thy wounded foul to health thou fhalt restore,
And free from every pain fhe felt before.
Abftain, I warn, from meats unclean and foul,
So keep thy body pure, fo free thy foul;
So rightly judge; thy reafon fo maintain;
Reafon which heaven did for thy guide ordain,
Let that beft reafon ever hold the rein.
Then if this mortal body thou forfake,
And thy glad flight to the pure æther take,
Among the gods exalted shalt thou shine,
Immortal, incorruptible, divine:
The tyrant death fecurely fhalt thou brave,
And fcorn the dark dominion of the grave,
THE LATE GLORIOUS SUCCESSES, &c.
THE LORD TREASURER GODOLPHIN.
WHILE kings and nations on thy counfels wait,
And Anna trufts to thee the British state;
While fame, to thee, from every foreign coaft,
Flies with the news of empires won and loft,
Relates whate'er her bufy eyes beheld,
And tells the fortune of each bloody field;
While, with officious duty, crowds attend,
To hail the labours of thy god-like friend,
Vouchsafe the Mufe's humbler joy to hear;
For facred numbers fhall be ftill thy care;
Though mean the verse, though lowly be the strain,
Though leaft regarded be the Mufe, of all the tuneful
train,
Yet rife, neglected nymph, avow thy flame,
Affert th' infpiring god, and greatly aim
To make thy numbers equal to thy theme.
From heaven derive thy verfe; to heaven belong
The counfels of the wife, and battles of the ftrong.
To heaven the royal Anna owes, alone,
The virtues which adorn and guard her throne;
Thence is her juftice wretches to redress,
Thence is her mercy and her love of peace;
Thence is her power, her fceptre uncontrol'd,
To bend the ftubborn, and reprefs the bold;
Her peaceful arts fierce factions to affwage,
To heal their breaches, and to footh their rage;
Thence is that happy prudence, which prefides
In each defign, and every action guides;
Thence is he taught her fhining court to grace,
And fix the worthieft in the worthiest place,
To truft at home Godolphin's watchful care,
And fend victorious Churchill forth to war.
Arise, ye nations rescued by her sword,
Freed from the bondage of a foreign lord,
Arife, and join the heroine to bless,
Behold the fends to fave you from distress;
Rich is the royal bounty she bestows,
'Tis plenty, peace, and fafety from your
And thou, Iberia! rous'd at length, difdain
To wear inflav'd the Gallic tyrant's chain.
For fee! the British genius comes, to chear
Thy fainting fons, and kindle them to war.
With her own glorious fires their fouls fhe warms,
And bids them burn for liberty and arms.
Unhappy land! the foremost once in fame,
Once lifting to the ftars thy noble name,
In arts excelling, and in arms fevere,
The western kingdoms' envy, and their fear :
Where is thy pride, thy conscious honour, flown,
Thy ancient valour, and thy first renown?
How art thou funk among the nations now!
How haft thou taught thy haughty neck to bow,
And dropt the warrior's wreath inglorious from thy brow!
Not thus of old her valiant fathers bore
The bondage of the unbelieving Moor,
But, oft, alternate, made the victors yield,
And prov'd their might in many a well-fought field;
Bold in defence of liberty they stood,
And doubly dy'd their cross in Moorish blood:
Then in heroic arms their knights excell'd,
The tyrant then and giant then they quell'd.
Then every nobler thought their minds did move,
And thofe who fought for freedom, figh'd for love.
Like one, thofe facred flames united live,
At once they languish, and once revive;
Alike they shun the coward and the flave,
But blefs the free, the virtuous, and the brave.
Nor frown, ye fair, nor think my verse untrue;
Though we difdain that man should man fubdue,
Yet all the free-born race are flaves alike to you.
Yet, once again that glory to restore,
The Britons feek the Celtiberian fhore.
With echoing peals, at Anna's high command,
Their naval thunder wakes the drowsy land;
High at their head, Iberia's promis'd lord,
Young Charles of Auftria, waves his fhining fword;
His youthful veins with hopes of empire glow,
Swell his bold heart, and urge him on the foe:
With joy he reads, in every warrior's face,
Some happy omen of a fure fuccefs;
Then leaps exulting on the hoftile ftrand,
And thinks the deftin'd fceptre in his hand.
Nor fate denies, what firft his wishes name,
Proud Barcelona owns his jufter claim,
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