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Such Wit, fuch Modesty, such Strength of Mind, A Soul at once so manly, and so kind: Wou'd wonder, when he turn'd the volume o’er, And after son.e few Leaves shou'd find no more. Nought but a blank remain, a deid vold Space, A step of Life that promiu'd 11ch a Race : We must not, dare not chick tisöt Hear'n began A Child, and cou'd not finish him a Nian; Reflecting what a mighty.Score was laid Of rich Materials, and a Model made: The Coft already furnish'd; so beltow'd, As more was never to one Soul allow'd; Yet after this Profusion spent in vain, Nothing but mould'ring Alnes to remain. I guess not, left I split upon the Shelf, Yet durft I guess Heav'n kept it for himself; · And giving us the use did foou recal, Ere we cou'd spare the mighty Principal.
Thus then he difappear’d, was rarify’d,
For 'tis improper Speech to say he dy'd :
He was exhald: His great Creator drew
His Spirit, as the Sun the Morning Dew.
'Tis Sin produces Death; and he had none
But the Taint Adam left on ev'ry Son.
He added not, he was so pure, so good,
'Twas but th’Original forfeit of his Blood:
And that so little, that the River ran
More clear than the corrupted Fount began.
Nothing remain’d of the first muddy Clay,
The length of Course had wash'd it in the way.
So deep, and yet so clear, we might behold
The Gravel bottom, and that bottom Gold.
As such we lov’d, admir'd, almost ador’d,
Gave all the Tribute Mortals cou'd aitord.
Perhaps we gave so much, the Pow’rs above :-
Grew angry at our superstitious Love::.
For when we more than Human Homage pay;
The charming Cause is justly Snatch'a away.
Thus was the Crime not his, but ours alone, And yet we murmur that he went so soon; Though Miracles are short and rarely nown.
Hear then, ye mournful Parents, and divide That Love in many which in one was ty’d. That individual Blessing is no more, But multiply'd in your remaining Store. The Flame's dispers'd, but does not all expire, The Sparkles blaze, though not the Globe of Fire. Love him by Parts, in all your num'rous Race, And from those Parts form one collected Grace; Then, when you have refin’d to that Degree, Imagine all in one, and think that one is he.
To my Hunour'd Friend Dr. Charleton, on
his learned and useful Works; but more particularly bis Treatise of Stone-Heng, by him restor’d to the true Founders.
By Mr. DR YDEN.
THE longest Tyranny that ever fway'd,
Their free-born Reason to the Stagirite,
And made his Torch their universal Light.
So Truth, while only one supply'd the State,
Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
'Till it was bought, like Emp’rick Wares, or Charms,
Hard Words seal'd up with Aristotle's Arms.
Columbus was the first that shook his Throne;
And found a Temp'rate in a Torrid Zone:
The fear'rish Air fann'd by a cooling Breeze,
The fruitful Vales fer round with shady Trees;
And guiltless Men, who danc'd away their time,
Fresh as their Groves, and Happy as their Clime.
Had we ftill paid that Homage to a Name,
Which only God and Nature juftly claim;
The Western Seas had been our utmoft Bound,
Where Poets still might dream the Sun was drown'd:
And all the Stars that shine in Southern Skies,
Had been admir'd by none but Salvage Eyes.
Among th' A ferters of free Reason's claim,
Our Nation's not the least in Worth or Fame.
The World to Bacon does not only owe
Its present Knowledge, but its future too.
Gilbert Thall live, till Load-stones cease to draw,
Or British Fleets the boundless Ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not lefs in Nature seen,
Than his great Brother read in States and Men.
The Circling Streams, once thought but Pools, of Blood
(Whether Life's Fewel, or the Body's Food)
From dark Oblivion Harvey's Name shall save;
While Ent keeps all the Honour that he gave.
Nor are You, Learned Friend, the least renown'd;
Whose Fame, not circumscrib'd with English Ground,
Flies like the nimble Jouroies of the Light;
And is, like that, unspent too in its Flight.
Whatever Truths have been, by Art, or Chance,
Redeem'd from Error, or from Ignorance,
Thin in their Authors, (like rich Veins. of Ore)
Your Works unite, and still discover more.
Such is the healing Virtue of your Pen,
To perfect Cures on Books, as well as Men.
Nor is this work the least: You well may give
To Men new Vigour, who make Stones to live.
Through you, the Danes (their short Dominion loft)
A longer Conquest than the Saxons boast. [found
STON E-H ENG, once thought a Temple, you have
A Throne, where Kings, our earthly Gods, were crown’d,
Where by their wandring Subjects they were seen,
Joy'd with their Stature, and their Princely Meen.
Our Soveraign here above the rest might stand;
And here be chose again to rule the Land.
These Ruins fhelter'd once His Sacred Head, When He from Wor'fter's fatal Battel Aeds
Watch'd by the Genius of this Royal Place,
And mighty Vilions of the Danish Race.
His Refuge then was for a Temple shown:
But, He restor'd, 'tis now become a Throne.
By the Earl of RoscoMMON.
O the pale Tyrant, who to horrid Graves
Ungrateful we do gentle Sleep compare;
Who, tho' his victories as num'sous are,
Yet from his Slaves no Tribute does he take,
But woful Cares that load them while they wake.
When his soft Charms had eas'd my weary Sight.
Of all the baneful Troubles of the Light;
Dorinda came diyefted of the Scorn,
which the unequallid Maid so long had worn;,
How oft in vain had Love's great God eslay'd,
To tame the stubborn Heart of that bright Maid
Yet spight of all the Pride that swells her Mind,
The humble God of Sleep can make her kind;
A rising Blush increas'd the Native Store
Of Charms that but too fatal were before.
Once more present the vision to my view,
The sweet Illusion, gentle Fate, renew!
How kind, how lovely she; how ravisht 1!
Shew me, blest God of Sleep, and let me die.,
Upon the Death of the Earl of DUNDEE.
By Mr. DRYDEN.
H last and best of Scots: who didft maintain
Thy Country's Freedom, from a foreign Reigns
New People fill the Land now thou art gone;
New Geds the Temples, and new Kings the Throne,
Scotland and Thee did each in other live;
Nor wou'dft thou her, nor cou'd lhe thee survive.
Farewel, who dying didst support the State,
And cou'dft not fall but with thy Country's Fale.
My eager Thoughts, that force themselves away. Sure, none inspir’d, whose Heat transports 'em ftill Above their Reason, and beyond their will, Can firm against the strong Impulse remain: Censure it self were not so farp a Pain. Let valgar Minds submit to vulgar Sway ;What Ignorance hall think, or Malice say, To me are Trifics; if the knowing few, Who can fee Fanles, bu can forgive them too, Applaud that Genius which themselves partake, And spare the poet for the Mute's sake.
The Muse who raises me from humble. Ground,
To view the vast and various tould around:
How fast I mount! in what a 1,0'ous way.
I grow transported to this large Si qvey!.
I value Earth no more, nd far helow
Methinks I see the busie rigmies go;
My Soul entranc'd, is in a Rape re brought
Abuve the conmon Tracts of indgar Thought,
With Fancy winy'd I feel the purer Air,
And.with Conten.pr look down on Human Care,
Airy Ambition, ever soaring high,
Stands best expos'd to my ceoforious Eye:
Behold 'em toiling up a llipi'iy Hili,
Where, tha'arriv'd, they must be :
Some, witii custeady icet, just fal
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