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" As on high Algidas the sturdy oak,

36. Whose spreading boughs the axe's Marpness feel, • Improves by loss, and, thriving with the stroke,

“ Draws health and vigour from the wounding steel.

6. Not Hydra sprouting from her mangled head

“ So tir'd the baffled force of Hercules;
Nor Thebes, nor Colchis, such a monster bred,
« Pregnant of ills, and famı'd for prodigies.

«« Plunge her in ocean, like the morning sun,

“ Brighter the fifts from the depths below: • To earth with unavailing ruin thrown,

• Recruits her strength, and foils the wondering foe.

XVIII. ** No more of victory the joyful fame

“ Shall from my camp to haughty Carthage fly; “ Loit, loft, are all the glories of her name !

“ With Afdrubal her hopes and fortune die !


XIX. « What shall the Claudian valour not perform,

" Which Power Divine guards with propitious care, « Which Wisdom steers through all the dangerous storm,

Through all the rocks and shoals of doubtful war ?"




VIRTUE and Fame, the other day,

Happen'd.to cross each other's way ;
Said Virtue, “ Hark ye! madam Fame,
“ Your ladyfhip is much to blame;

bids you always wait on me,
" And yet your face I seldom see :
.« The Paphian queen employs your trumpet,
“ And bids it praise some handsome strumpet ;
« Or, thundering through the ranks of war,
“ Ambition ties you to her car.
Saith Fame, “ Dear madam, I protest,
“ I never find myself so blest
As when I humbly wait behind you !
“ But 'tis so mighty hard to find you !

In such obscure retreats you lurk ! * To feek you, is an endless work."

" Well,” anfwer'd Virtue, “ I allow “ Your plea. But hear, and mark me now. « I know (without offence to others) " I know the best of wives and mothers; “ Who never pass’d an useless day “ In scandal, gossiping, or play: "" Whose modest wit, chastis’d by sense, - Is lively chearful innocence;

" Whois

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" Whose heart nor envy knows, nor spite,
“ Whofe duty is her sole delight;
“.Nor ruld by wllim, nor slave to fashion,
“ Her parents' joy, her husband's paflion."

Fame finil'd, and and answer'd, " On my life, + This is some country parson's wife, 66 Who never faw the court nor town, 66 Whele face is homely as'her gown"; -- Who'banquets upon eggs and hacon-"

“ No, madam, no-you're much mistaken -" I beg you'll let me set you right« “ 'Tis one with every beauty bright; " Adorn’d with every polith'd art - That rank or fortune can impart; « Tis the most celebrated toast " That Britain's spacious isle can boast; 'Tis princely Petwortli's noble dame; 'Tis Egrement--Go, tell it, Fame."




A ME heard with pleasure-strait replied,

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“ My truinpet oft I 've rais'd, to found Her inodeft praise the world around ! “ But notes were wanting-Canst thou find .A Mufe to sing her face, her mind?

" Believe me, I can name but one, .“ A friend of yours--`tis Lyttelton."


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MY LORD, A Thousand thanks to your Lordhip for your ad

dition to my verses. If you can write such extempore, it is well for other poets, that you chose to be Lord Chancellor, rather than a Laureat. They explain to me a vision I had the night before.

Methought I saw before my feet,
With countenance serene and sweet,
The Muse, who, in my youthful days,
Had oft inspir'd my careless lays.
She simil'd, and said, “ Once inore I see

My fugitive returns to me;
Long had I lot

my bower,
" You fcorn'd to own my gentle power ;
" With me no more your genius sported,
* The grave historic Muse you courted;
“ Or, rais'd from earth, with straining eyes ;
* Pursued Urania through the skies;

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* But

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“ But now, to my forsaken track,
“ Fair Egremont has brouglit you back :
.6Nor bluih, by her and Virtue led,
“ That soft, that pleasing path, to tread;

For there, beneath to-morrow's ray,
« Ev'n Wisdom's self shall deign to play.
* Lo! to my flowery groves and springs
« Her favourite fon the goddess brings,
... The council's and the senate's guide,
... Law's oracle, the nation's pride :

• He comes, he joys with thce to join, .“ In singing Wyndham's charms divine: " To thine he adds his.nobler lays; « Ev’n thee, my friend, he deigns to praise. 6. Enjoy that praise, nor envy Pitt “ His fame with burgess or with cit; “ For sure one line from such a Bard, Virtue would think her best reward."

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MADAM, before your feet I lay

This ode upon your wedding-day,
The first indeed I ever made,
For writing Odes is not my trade;
My head is full of houshold cares,
And neceffary dull affairs,
Besides that sometimes jealous frumps
Will put me into doleful dumps.


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