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In solemn Silence, a Majestick Band,
Heroes, and Gods, and Roman Confuls ftand,
Stern Tyrants, whom their Crueltics renown,
And Emperors in Parian Marble frown.
While the bright Dames, to whom they humbly fu’d,
Still show the Charms that their proud Hearts sub-

Fain wou'd I Raphael's Godlike Art rehearse,
And show th'Immortal Labours in my Verse.
Where from the mingled strength of Shade and Light
A new Creation rises to my Sight.
Such Heav'nly Figures from his Pencil flow,
So warm with Life his blended Colours glow.
From Theme to Theme with secret Pleasure toft,
Amidst the soft Variety l’m loft :
Here pleasing Airs my ravisht Soul confound
With circling Notes and Labyrinths of Sound;
Here Domes and Temples rise in diftant Views,
And opening Palaces invite my Muse.

How has kind Heav'n adorn’d the happy Land,
And scatter'd Blessings with a waftful Hand !
But what avail her unexhausted Stores,
Her blooming Mountains and her sunny Shores,
With all the Gifts that Heaven and Earth impart,
The Smiles of Nature, and the Charms of Art,
While proud Oppression in her Vallies reigns,
And Tyranny usurps her happy Plains?
The poor Inhabitant beholds in vain
The red’ning Orange and the swelling Grain:
Joyless he sees the growing Oils and Wines,
And in the Myrtles fragrant Shade repines :
Starves in the midst of Nature's Bounty curft,
And in the loaden Vineyard dies for Thirft.

Oh Liberty, thou Goddess Heav'nly bright,
Profuse of Bliss, and pregnant with Delight,
Eternal Pleasures thy Presence reign,
And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton Train!

Eas'd of her load Subjection grows more light,
And foverty looks chearful in thy sight;
Thou mak’ft the gloomy Face of Nature gay,
Giv'st Beauty to the Sun, and Pleasure to the Day.

Thee, Goddess, Thee, Britannia's Ille adores;
How has the oft exhausted all her Stores,
How oft in Fields of Death thy Presence sought?
Nor thinks the mighty Prize too dearly bought :
On Foreign Mountains may the Sun refine
The Grapes soft Juice, and mellow it to Wine,
With Citron Groves adorn a distant Soil,
And the fat Olive swell with floods of Oil :
We envy not the warmer Clime that lies
In ten Degrees of more indulgent Skies,
Nor at the Coarseness of our Heav'n repine,
Tho' o'er our Heads the frozen Pleiads Thine:
'Tis Liberty that Crowns Britannia's Ille,
And makes her barren Rocks and her bleak Moun-

tains smile. Others with Tow'ring Piles may please the light, And in their proud aspiring Domes delight; A nicer Touch to the stretcht Canvas give, Or teach their animated Rocks to live: 'Tis Britain's Care to warch o’er Europe's Fate, And hold in Balance each contending State. To threaten bold presumptuous Kings with War, And answer her afflicted Neighbour's Pray’r. The Dane and Swede rouz'd up by fierce Alarms, Bless the Wise Conduct of her Pious Arms. Soon as her Fleets appear, their Terrors cease, And all the Northern World lies hush'd in Peace.

Th'ambitious Gaul beholds with secret dread Her Thunder aim'd at his aspiring Head, And fain her Godlike Sons wou'd disunite By Foreign Gold, or by Domestick Spite; But strives in vain to Conquer or Divide, Whom Nasan's Arms defend and Counsels guide.

Fir'd with the Name, which I so oft have found
The distant Climes and different Tongues resound a
I bridle in my struggling Muse with Pain,
That longs to launch into a bolder Strain.

But I've already troubled you too long,
Nor dare attempt a more advent’rous Song.
My humble Verse demands a softer Theme,
A painted Meadow or a purling Stream,
Unfit for Heroes; whom Immortal Lays,
And Lines like Virgil's, or like yours fou'd praise.



On the Death of A MYNTAS:

A Pastoral ELEGY.

Written by Mr. DRIDEN. Was on a Joyless and a Gloomy Morn, 'TW

Wet was the Grass, and hung with Pearls the
When Damon, who design’d to pass the Day [Thorn ;
Wich Hounds and Horns, and chase the flying Prey,
Rose early from his Bed; but soon he found
The Welkin pich'd with sullen Clouds around,
An Eastern Wind, and Dew upon the Ground.
Thus while he stood, and lighing did survey
The Fields, and curs’d th’ill Omens of the Day,
He saw Menalcas come with heavy pace;
Wet were his Eyes, and chearless was his Face:
He wrung his Hands, distracted with his care,
And sent his Voiee before him from afar.
Return, he cry'd, return unhappy Swain,
The spungy Clouds are fill'd with gath'ring Rain;
The Promise of the Day not only cross’d,
But ev’n the Spring, the Spring itself is loft.

Amynt a szo.---Oh ! he cou'd not speak the rest,
Nor needed, for presaging Damon guess’d.
Equal with Heav'n young Damon lov'd the Boy ;
The boast of Nature, both his Parents Joy.

His graceful Form revolving in his Mind;
So great a Genius, and a Soul so kind,
Gaye sad assurance that his Fears were true;
Too well the Envy of the Gods he knew :
For when their Gifts too lavishly are plac'd,
Soon they repent, and will not make them laft.
For, sure, it was too bountiful a Dole,
The Mother's Features, and the Father's Soul.
Then thus he cry'd, The Morn bespoke the News,
The Morning did her chearful Light diffuse ;
But see how suddenly she chang'd her Face, (grace ;
And brought on Clouds and Rains, the Day's Dil-
Just such, Amynt as, was thy promis'd Race!
What Charms adorn'd thy Youth where Nature
And more than Man was giv’n us in a Child! [smil'd,
His Infancy was ripe : a Soul Sublime
In Years so tender that prevented time:
Heav'n gave him all at once; then snatch'd away,
E’er Mortals all his Beauties cou'd survey :
Just like the Flow'r that buds and withers in a Day.

The Mother Lovely, tho' with Grief oppreft,
Reclin'd his dying Head upon her Breast,
The mournful Family stood all around;
One Groan was heard, one Universal Sound:
All were in Floods of Tears and endless Sorrow
So dire a Sadness fate on ev'ry Look, [drown'd.
Even Death repented he had giv’n the Stroke.
He griev'd his fatal Work had been ordain'd,
Bur promis'd length of Life to those who yet remain'de
The Mother's and her Eldest Daughter's Grace,
It seems had brib'd him to prolong their space :
The Father bore it with undaunted Soul,
Like one who durft his Destiny controul :
Yet with becoming Grief he bore his part,
Resign'd his Son, but not resign'd his Heart.

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Patient as Job; and may he live to see,
Like him, a new increaling Family ;

Such is my Wish, and such my Prophesie.
For yet, my Friend, the Beauteous Mold remains,
Long may she exercise her fruitful Pains:
But, ah! with better hap, and bring a Race
More lafting, and endu'd with equal Grace:
Equal she may, but farther none can go;
For he was all that was exact below.

M E N A L C A S.
Damon, behold, yon breaking Purple Cloud;
Hear’st thou not Hymns and Songs Divinely loud }
There mounts Amyntas ; the young Cherubs play
About their Godlike Mate, and Sing him on his way.
He cleaves the liquid Air, behold he flies,
And every. Moment gains upon the Skies ;
The new come Guest admires th’Ætherial State,
The Saphir Portal, and the Golden Gate;
And now admitted in the shining Throng,
He shows the Passport which he brought alongs
His Passport is his Innocence and Grace,
'Well known to all the Natives of the Place.
Now Sing ye joyful Angels, and admire [Quire :
Your Brother's Voice that comes to mend your
Sing you, while endless Tears our Eyes bestow;
For like Amyntas none is left below.


On the DEATH of a very young


TE who cou'd view the Book of Destiny,

And read whatever there was writ of thee;
o Charming Touth, in the first op'ning Page,
So many Graces in so green an Age,

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