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Earth's diftant ends our glory shall behold, There hateful envy her own snakes shall feel,
And the new world launch forth to seek the old. And persecution mourn her broken wheel : 420
Then thips of uncouth form shall stem the tide, There faion roar, rebellion bite her chain,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy fide, And gasping furies thirst for blood in vain.
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire, Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd
Our speech, our colour, and our ftrange attire!

Oh, streech thy reign, fair peace! from shore to shore, Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days :
Till conquest cease, and Navery be no more ; The houghts of gods let Granville's verse recite,
Till the freed Indians in their native groves And bring the scenes of opening fate to light :
Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves; My humble muse, in unambitious strains,
Peru once more a race of kings behold, 411 Paints the green forests and the lowery plains,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.

Where peace descending bids her olive fpring, Exil'd by thee from earth to deepelt hell, And scatters bleflings from her dove-like wing. In brazen bonds Mall barbarous discord dwell ; Evia I more sweetly pass my careless days, 431 Gigantic pride, pale terror, gloomy care,

Pleas'd in the filent Thade with empty praise ; And mad ambition, fall attend her there : Enough for me, that to the listening swains There purple vengeance bath'd in gore retires, First in these fields I sung thc Sylvan Iraim, Her weapons blupted, and caring her fires :

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Transported demi-gods stood round,

And men grew heroes at the found, Enfiam'd with glory's charms : Each chief his seven-fold shield display'd, And half unsheath'd the shining blade: And seas, and rocks, and skies, rebound

To arms, to arms, to arms!


Descend, ye nine ! descend, and sing;
The breathing instruments inspire ;
Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And sweep the sounding lyre!

In a fadly-pleafing strain
Let the warbling lute complain;

Let the loud trumpet sound,
Till the roofs all around

The thrill echoes rebound :
While, in more lengthen'd notes and flow,
The deep, majestic, folemn organs blow,

Hark! the numbers soft and clear
Gently steal upon the ear ;
Now louder, and yet louder rise,

And fill with spreading sounds the skies;
Esulting in triumph now swell the bold notes,
Io broken air trembling, the wild music floats;

Till, by degrees, remote and small,
The strains decay,

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.
By music, minds an equal temper know,

Nor swell too high, nor link too low.
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;

Or when the soul is press'd with cares,

Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors the fires with animated sounds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;

Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus rouses from his bed,
Sloch unfolds her arms and wakes,

Listening envy drops her snakes ;
Intestine war no more our passions wage,
And giddy fa&ions hçar away their rage.

But when our country's cause provokes to arms,
How martial music every bosom warms!
So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas,
High on the ftern the Thracian rais'd his train,

While Argo saw her kindred trees
Descend from Pelion to the main,

But when through all th' infernal bounds,
Which flaming Phlegeton surrounds,

Love, strong as death, the poets led

To the pale nations of the dead,
What sounds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,
O'er all the dreary coasts!

Dreadful gleams,
Dismal screams,
Fires that glow,
Shrieks of woe,

3 Sullen moans,

Hollow groans,
And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
Bat hark ! he strikes the golden lyre;
And sec! the tortur'd ghosts respire.

See, fhady forms advance !
Thy fone, o Sisypbus, stands fill,
Ixion retts upon his wheel,

And the pale speares dance !
The furies sink upon their iron beds,
And snakes, uncurlid, hang listening round their




By the streams that ever flow,
By the fragrant winds that blowt

O'er the Elysian flowers;
By those happy souls who dwell
In yellow meads of asphodel,

Or amaranthine bowers;
By the hero's armed shades,
Glittering through the gloomy glades;
By the youths that dy'd for love,

Wandering in the myrtle grove,
Restore, raftore Eurydice to life :
Oh, take the husband, or return the wife!



He sung, and hell consented

Sce, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he fies; To hear the poet's prayer;

Hark! Hæmus resounds with the Bacchanals Stern Proserpine relented,

cries And gave him back the fair.

Ah, see, he dies!
Thus song could prevail

Yet, ev'n in death Eurydice he sung ;
O'er death, and o'er hell,

Eurydice ftill crembled on his tongue;
A conqueft how hard and how glorious !

Eurydice the woods,
Though fate had fast bound her

Eurydice the floods,
With Styx nine times round her,

Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung. Yet music and love were victorious.

Music the fiercest grief can charm, But foon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes :

And face's feverest rage disarm : Again the falls, again fhe dies, she dies !

Mufic can soften pain to ease, How wilt thou now the fatal fifters move?

And make despair and madness please :
No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love.

Our joys below it can improve,
Now under hanging mountains,

And antedate the bliss above.
Beside the falls of fountains,

This the divine Cecilia found,
Or where Hebrus wanders

And to her Maker's praise confin'd the found. Rolling in mæanders

When the full organ joins the tuneful quire,
All alone,

Th' immortal powers incline their ear;
Unheard, unknown,

Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire,
He makes his moan;

While solemn airs improve the facred fire;
And calls her ghost,

And angels lean from heaven to hear.
For ever, ever, ever loft!

Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell,
Now with furies surrounded,

To bright Cecilia greater power is given : Despairing, confounded,

His numbers rais'd a shade from hell, He trembles, he glows,

Her's lift the soul to heaven. Amidi Rhodope's snows :



Altered from Shakspeare by the Duke of Buckingham ; at whose desire these ewo Choruses were

composed, to supply as many, wanting in his play. They were set many ycars afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-house.



Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore?
Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?

Ye shades, where sacred truth is fought;

When Athens links by fates únjust, Groves, where immortal sages taught ;

When wild barbarians fpurn her duft; Where heavenly visions Plato fir'd,

Perhaps ev'a Britain's utmost store And Epicurus lay inspir'd!

Shall cease to blush with ftranger's gorc; In vain your guiltless laurels food

See arts her savage sons controul,
Unspotted long with human blood.'

And Athens rising ocar the pole!
War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades, Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And feel now glitters in the muses fhades. And civil madness tears them from the land.

Oh, heaven-born filters! source of art!

Ye gods, what justice rules the ball! Who charm the sense, or mend the heart; Freedom and arts together fall ; Who lead fair virtue's train along,

Fools grant whate'er ambition craves, Mortal truth and mystic song!

And men, once ignorant, are flaves, To what new clime, what distant sky,

Oh, curs'd effects of civil hate, Forsaken, friendless, Toall ye fly?

In ev'ry age, in every date :

Still, when the luft of tyrant power succeeds,

But Hymen's kinder flames unite,
Same Athens perishes, some fully bleeds.

And burn for ever one;

Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,

Productive as the sun.


Oh, source of every social tie,
Or, tyrant love! halt thou posfelt

United with, and mutual joy!
The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breaft!

What various joys on one attend,
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,

As son, as father, brother, husband, friend! And arts but soften us to feel thy flame.

Whether his hoary fire he spies,
Love, soft intruder, enters here,

While thousand grateful thoughts arise ;
But entering learns to be fincere.

Or meets his spouse's fonder eye;
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,

Or views his smiling progeny ;
And Brutus tenderly reproves.

What tender passions take their turns,
Why, virtue, doft thou blame desire,

What home-felt raptures move !
Which nature has impreft?

His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
Why, nature, doft thou sooneft fire

With reverence, hope, and love.
The mild and generous breast ?

Hence guilty joys, distastes, furmises,
Love's purer flames the gods approve;

Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,
The gods and Brutus bend to love :

Dangers, doubts, delays, surprises;
Brutus for absent Porcia fighs,

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine ;
And ferner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.

Purest love's unwafting treasure,
What is loose love? a transient guft,

Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure;
Spent in a sudden storm of lust;

Days of ease, and nights of pleasure;
A vapour fed from wild desire,

Sacred Hymen! these are thinc.
A wandering, self-consuming fire.


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Written wben tbe Antber was about Twelve years old.
Happy the man, whose with and care

VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
A few paternal acres bound,

Quit, oh quit this mortal frame :
Content to breathe his native air,

Trembling, hoping, lingering, Aying:
In his own ground.

Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Cease, fond Nature, cease thy ftrife,
Whose flocks supply him with attire ;

And let me languish into life.
Whose trees in summer yield him fhade,
In winter fire.

Hark! they whisper; Angels say,
Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find

Sister Spirit, come away.
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,

What is this absorbs me quite ?
In health of body, peace of mind,

Steals my senses, fhuts my fight,
Quiet by day,

Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Sound sleep by night; ftudy and ease,

Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
Together mix’d; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which moft does please

The world recedes; it disappears!
With meditation.

Heaven opens on my eyes ! my cars
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;

With sounds seraphic ring :
Thas unlanıented let me die,

Lend, lend your wings! I mount ! I Ay!
Steal from the world, and not a stone

O Grave! where is thy victory?
Tell where I lie.

O Death! where is chy fing?




Si quid neristi re&ius istis
Candidus imperti; î non, his utere mecum.




233 to 288. Critics in Wit, Language, Versi-
INTRODUCTION. That 'tis as great a fault to judge fication, only, 288, 305, 339, &c. 4. Being

ill, as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to too hard to pleafe, or too apt to admire, ver.
the public, ver. I.

384. 5. Partiality-coo much love to a Sect,
That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true to the Ancients or Moderns, ver. 394. 6. Pré-
Genius, ver. 9 to 18.

judice or Prevention, ver. 408. 7. Singularity,
That most men are born with some Taste, but ver. 424. 8. Inconstancy, ver. 430. 9. Party

spoiled by false Education, ver. 19 to 25. Spirit, ver. 452, &c. 10. Envy, ver. 466. A.
The multitude of Critics and causes of them, ver. gainst Envy, and in praise of Good-nature, ver.
26 to 45.

508, &c. When Severity is chiefly to be used
That we are to study our own Taste, and know by Critics, ver. 526, &c.

the limits of it, ver. 46 to 67.
Nature the best guide of judgment, ver. 68 to 87.

PART III. Ver. 568, &c.
Improved by Art and Rules, which are but we Rules for the-Condud of Manners in a Critic. 1.
thodized Nature, ver. 88.

Candour, ver. 563. Modesty, ver. 550. Good-
Rules derived from the Practice of the Ancient breeding, ver. 572. Sincerity and Freedom of
Poets, ver. 98 to 110.

Advice, ver. 578. 2. When one's Counsel is
That therefore the Ancients are necessary to be to be restrained, ver. $84. Character of an in-

ftudied by a Critic, particularly Homer and corrigible Poet, ver. 600; and of an impertinent
Virgil, ver. 120 to 138.

Critic, ver. 610, &c. Character of a good Cri-
of Licences, and the use of them by the Ancients, tic, ver. 629. The History of Criticism, and
ver. 140 to 180.

Charaders of the best Critics : Aristotle, ver.
Reverence due to the Ancients, and praise of them, 645. Horace, ver. 653. Dionysius, ver. 665.
ver. 181, &c.

Petronius, ver. 667. Quintilian, ver. 679.

Longinus, ver. 675. Of the Decay of Criti-
PART II. Ver. 203, &c.

cism, and its Revival. Erasmus, ver. 693. Vi-
Causes hindring a true Judgment. 1. Pride, ver. da, ver. 705. Boileau, ver. 714. Lord Roro

208. 2. Imperfect Learning, ver. 215. 3. common, &c, ver. 725. Conclufion.
Judging by parts, and oot by the whole, ver.

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