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HE intent of the following Volumes

is to preserve to the Public those poėtical performances, which seemed to inerit a longer remembrance, than what would probably be secured to them by the MANNER wherein they were originally published. This design was first függested to the Editor, as it was afterwards conducted, by the opinions of some Gentlemen, whose names it would do him the highest honour to mention. He desires in this place also to make his acknowledgments to the Authors of several pieces inserted in these Volumes, which were never before in print; and which, he is persuaded, would be thought to add credit to the most judicious collection of this kind in our language. He hath nothing farther to premise, but that the Reader must not expect to be Vol. I,




pleased with every particular poem which is here presented to him. It is impossible to furnish out an entertainment of this nature, where every part shall be relished by every guest: it will be sufficient, if nothing is set before him, but what has been approved by those of the most acknowledged taster


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Fronde fuper Mitram, et fælici comptus olivå. Virg.

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Ontending kings, and fields of death, too long

Have been the subject of the British song,
Who hath not read of fam'd Ramilia's plain,
Bavaria’s fall, and Danube choak’d with flain.
Exhaufted themes! A gentlè note I raise,
And fing returning Peace in fofter laysx
A 2



Their fury quell’d, and martial rage allay'd,
I wait our heroes in the fylvan shade :
Disbanding hosts are imag'd to my mind,
And warring pow’rs in friendly leagues combin’d;
While ease and pleasure make the nations smile,
And heav'n and ANNA bless Britannia's ifle.

Well sends our Queen her mitred BRISTOL forth,
For early counsels fam'd, and long-try'd worth,
Who, thirty rolling years, had oft with-held
The Suede and Saxon from the dusty field;
Compleatly form’d, to heal the Christian wounds,
To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds;
The face of ravag'd nature to repair,
By leagues to soften earth, and heav'n by pray'r;
To gain by love, where rage and laughter fail,
And make the crosier o'er the sword prevail.

So when great Mofes, with Jehovah's wand, Had scatter'd plagues o'er stubborn Pharaoh's land, Now spread an host of locusts round the shore, Now turn'd Nile's fatt'ning streams to putrid gore; Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God, And sudden almonds shot from Aaron's rod.

O thou, from whom these bounteous blesings flow, To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe, (For next to thee, the man whom kings contend To stile companion, and to make their friend, Great STRAFFORD, rich in every courtly grace, With joyful pride accepts the second place)


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