How little less than they exalted man may be.

LIBERTY,

The weight of that mounts this so high. These men are Fortune's jewels, moulded bright,

Brought forth with their own fire and light.

If I, her vulgar stone, for either look,
Out of myself it must be strook.
Yet I must on: What sound is't strikes
mine ear?

Sure I Fame's trumpet hear:
It sounds like the last trumpet, for it can
Raise
Unpass'd Alps stop me, but I'll cut
the bury'd man.
rough all,

up

not bind,

No other law shall shackle me;

Slave to myself I will not be :

Nor shall my future actions be confin'd By my own present mind.

Who by resolves and vows engag'd does

stand

For days that yet belong to Fate,

Hence, Love himself, that tyrant of my

days,

Which intercepts my coming praise. Come, my best Friends! my books! and lead me on,

'Tis time that I were gone.

Welcome, great Stagirite! and teach me

now

tate

Before it falls into his hand.

The bondman of the cloister so

All that he does receive does always owe; }

Thy scholar's vict'ries thou dost far out

do;

He conquer'd the earth, the whole world

you.

tongue and wit

Preserves Rome's greatness yet:
Thou art the first of orators; only he
Who best can praise thee next must be
Welcome the Mantuan swan! Virgil the
wise,

Whose verse walks highest, but not flies; Who brought green Poesy to her perfect age,

And made that art which was a rage.
Tell me, ye mighty Three! what shall I do
To be like one of you?

But you have climb'd the mountain's top, there sit

On the calm flourishing head of it,

If all things that in nature are
Either soft, or sweet, or fair,
Be not in thee so epitomiz'd,
That nought material's not compris'd,
May I as worthless seem to thee,
As all but thou appear to me.

THE WISH.

ward go,

See us and clouds below.

LOVE IN HER SUNNY EYES.

LOVE in her sunny eyes does basking play:

Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair;

Love does on both her lips for ever stray,

And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there;

In all her outward parts Love's always

seen,

But, Oh! he never went within.

THE SOUL.

IP mine eyes do e'er declare
They've seen a second thing that's fair;
Or ears that they have music found,
Besides thy voice, in any sound;
If my taste do ever meet,

After thy kiss with ought that's sweet ;
If my abused touch allow

Ought to be smooth or soft but thou!
If what seasonable springs,
Or the eastern summer brings,
Do my smell persuade at all

Ought perfume but thy breath to call;
If all my senses objects be

Not contracted into thee,

The crowd, and buz, and murmurings,
Of this great hive, the City.

Ah! yet, e'er I descend to the grave, May I a small house and large garden have!

And a few friends, and many books, both

true,

Both wise, and both delightful too!
And since Love ne'er will from me flee,
A mistress moderately fair,
And good as guardian angels are,
Only belov'd, and loving me!

AN IMPRECATION AGAINST CIVIL STRIFE.

CURS'D be the man (what do I wish? as though

The wretch already were not so;

But curs'd on let him be) who thinks it

brave

And great his country to enslave ;
Who seeks to overpoise alone

The balance of a nation :
Against the whole, but naked state,
Who in his own light scale makes up with
arms the weight.

Who of his nation loves to be the first,
Though at the rate of being worst,
Who would be rather a great monster,
than

A well proportion'd man;