While equal good an am'rous couple find,

She makes him conftant, and he makes her kind.
New charms in vain a lover's faith would prove; 25
Hermits or bed-rid men they'll fooner move:
The fair inveigler will but fadly find
There's no fuch eunuch as a man in love:
But when by his chafte nymph embrac'd,
(For Love makes all embraces chaste)
Then the tranfported creature can
Do wonders, and is more than man.

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Both heav'n and earth would our defires confine;'
But yet in vain both heav'n and earth combine,
Unless where Love bleffes the great design.
Hymen makes faft the hand, but Love the heart;
He the fool's god, thou Nature's Hymen art,
Whofe laws once broke we are not held by force,
But the falfe breach itself is a divorce.

For love the mifer will his gold despise,
The false grow faithful, and the foolish wife;
Cautious the young, and complaisant the old,
The cruel gentle, and the coward bold.
Thou glorious fun within our fouls,
Whofe influence fo much controls!
Ev'n dull and heavy lumps of love,
Quicken'd by thee more lively move;

And if their heads but any substance hold,
Love ripens all that drofs into the pureft gold.

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In Heav'n's great work thy part is fuch,
That, master-like, thou giv’st the last great touch
To Heav'n's own masterpiece of man,

And finishest what Nature but began:
Thy happy ftroke can into softness bring
Reason, that rough and wrangling thing.
From childhood upwards we decay,

And grow but

greater children ev'ry day:

So, Reason, how can we be faid to rife?
So many cares attend the being wife,
"Tis rather falling down a precipice.

From fenfe to reafon unimprov'd we move;

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We only then advance when reason turns to love.
IV.

Thou reigneft o'er our earthly gods;

Uncrowh'd by thee their other crowns are loads; One beauty's fmile their meanest courtier brings 65 Rather to pity than to envy kings;

His fellow flaves he takes them now to be,

Favour'd by love perhaps much less than he.
For love the timorous bafhful maid

Of nothing but denying is afraid;

For love fhe overcomes her shame,

Forfakes her fortune, and forgets her fame;
Yet if but with a conftant lover bleft,

Thanks Heav'n for that, and never minds the rest.

V.

Love is the falt of life; a higher taste

It gives to pleasure, and then makes it last.

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Those flighted favours which cold nymphs difpense, Mere common counters of the sense,

Defective both in metal and in measure,

A lover's fancy coins into a treasure.

How vast the subject! what a boundless store

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Of bright ideas fhining all before!

The Mufe's fighs forbid me to give o'er;

But the kind god incites us various ways,
And now I find him all my ardour raise,
His precepts to perform as well as praise.

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ODE ON BRUTUS.

I.

'Tis faid that favourite mankind

Was made the lord of all below;

But yet the doubtful are concern'd to find
'Tis only one man tells another fo.
And for this great dominion here
Which over other beasts we claim,
Reafon our beft credential does appear,
By which indeed we domincer,

But how abfurdly we may fee with shame :
Reason, that folemn trifle! light as air,
Driv'n up and down by censure or applause,
By partial love away 't is blown,

Or the leaft prejudice can weigh it down;
Thus our high privilege becomes our fnare.
In any nice and weighty cause

ΤΟ

IS

How weak at best is Reason! yet the

grave

Impofe on that fmall judgment which we have.

II.

In all those wits whofe names have spread fo wide,
And even the force of Time defy'd,

Some failings yet may be descry'd.
Among the reft, with wonder be it told

That Brutus is admir'd for Cæfar's death,

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By which he yet furvives in Fame's immortal breath. Brutus! ev'n he, of all the rest,

In whom we should that deed the most deteft,

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Is of mankind esteem'd the best.

As fnow, defcending from fome lofty hill,

Is by its rolling course augmenting still,

So from illuftrious authors down have roll'd
Those great encomiums he receiv'd of old.
Republic orators will fhew efteem,

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And gild their cloquence with praife of him,
But truth, unveil'd, like a bright fun appears,
To fhine away this heap of seventeen hundred years.

In vain 't is urg'd by an illuftrious wit,

(To whom in all befides I willingly fubmit)

That Cæfar's life no pity could deferve

From one who kill'd himself rather than ferve.
Had Brutus chofe rather himself to flay

Than any mafter to obey,

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Happy for Rome had been that noble pride; [dy'd.

The world hadthen remain'd in peace, and only Brutus

For he whose foul difdains to own
Subjection to a tyrant's frown,

And his own life would rather end,

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Would fure much rather kill himself than only hurt To his own fword in the Philippian field [his friend. Brutus indeed at last did yield;

But in those times felf-killing was not rare,

And his proceeded only from defpair:

He might have chofen elfe to live,

In hopes another Cæfar would forgive;

Then, for the good of Rome, he could once more Conspire against a life which had spar'd his before.

IV.

Our country challenges our utmost care,

And in our thoughts deferves the tenderest share;
Her to a thousand friends we should prefer,

Yet not betray them tho' it be for her.
Hard is his heart whom no defert can move

A mistress or a friend to love

Above whate'er he does befides enjoy,

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But may he, for their fakes, his fire or fons destroy? For facred juftice, or for public good,

Scorn'd be our wealth, our honour, and our blood:
In fuch a cause want is a happy state;

Ev'n low disgrace would be a glorious fate;
And death itself, when noble fame survives,
More to be valued than a thousand lives:

K

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