Why, Virtue, doft thou blame defire,
Which Nature has imprest?
Why, Nature, doft thou fooneft fire
The mild and generous breast?

CHORUS.

Love's purer flames the Gods approve ;
The Gods and Brutus bend to Love:
Brutus for abfent Porcia fighs,

And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loofe love? a tranfient guft,
Spent in a fudden storm of luft,

A vapour

fed from wild defire,

A wandering, felf-consuming fire.
But Hymen's kinder flames unite;

And burn for ever one;

Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh fource of every focial tye,

30

15

20

25

United wish, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend?

Whether his hoary fire he spies,

While thoufand grateful thoughts arife;

30

Or meets his fpoufe's fonder eye;

Or views his smiling progeny ;

What tender paflions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move!

His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
With reverence, hope, and love.

35

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes,
Hence falfe tears, deceits, difguifes,
Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine :
Pureft love's unwafting treafure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure;
Days of eafe, and nights of pleafure;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

ODE ON SOLITUDE.

40

Written when the Author was about Twelve Years old.

H

APPY the man, whofe wish and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread,

Whofe flocks fupply him with attire,

Whofe trees in fummer yield him shade,

5

flide foft away,

10

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day.

Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Together mix'd; fweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please

With meditation.

G 3

15

Thus

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

O D E.

20

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

VIT

I.

ITAL fpark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame :
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,

Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life.

II.

Hark! they whisper; Angels fay,
Sifter Spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite?

Steals my fenfes, shuts my fight,
Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

III.

The world recedes; it disappears!

Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears

With founds feraphic ring:

15

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly !

O Grave! where is thy Victory?

O Death! where is thy Sting?

AN

AN

ESSA Y

Ο Ν

CRITICIS M.

Written in the Year M DCC IX*.

"Si quid novifti rectius iftis,

"Candidus imperti; fi non, his utere mecum.'

HOR.

Mr. Pope told me himself, that the "Effay on "Criticism" was indeed written in 1707, though faid 1709 by mistake. J. RICHARDSON,

THE Poem is in one book, but divided into three principal parts or members. The firft [to ver. 201.] gives rules for the Study of the Art of Criticism; the fecond [from thence to ver. 560.] exposes the Causes of wrong Judgment; and the third [from thence to the end] marks out the Morals of the Critic. When the Reader hath well confidered the whole, and hath obferved the regularity of the plan, the masterly conduct of the feveral parts, the penetration into Nature, and the compafs of learning fo confpicuous throughout, he should then be told that it was the work of an Author who had not attained the twentieth year of his age. A very learned Critic has fhewn, that Horace had the fame attention to method in his Art of Poetry.

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