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No atoms cafually together hurl'd

Could e'er produce fo beautiful a world.
Nor dare I fuch a doctrine here admit,
As would destroy the providence of wit.
'Tis your ftrong genius then which does not feel
Those weights, would make a weaker spirit reel.
To carry weight, and run fo lightly too,
Is what alone your Pegafus can do.

Great Hercules himself could ne'er do more,
Than not to feel thofe heavens and gods he bore.
Your eafier odes, which for delight were penn'd,
Yet our inftruction make their fecond end:
We're both enrich'd and pleas'd, like them that woe
At once a beauty, and a fortune too.

Of moral knowlege poefy was queen,

And still she might, had wanton wits not been;
Who, like ill guardians, liv'd themselves at large,
And, not content with that, debauch'd their
charge.

Like fome brave captain, your fuccessful pen
Restores the exil'd to her crown again :
And gives us hope, that having feen the days
When nothing flourish'd but fanatic bays,
All will at length in this opinion reft,
"A fober prince's government is beft."

This is not all; your art the way has found
To make th'improvement of the richest ground,
That foil which thofe immortal laurels bore,
That once the facred Maro's temples wore.
Elifa's griefs are fo exprefs'd by you,

They are too eloquent to have been true.
Had the fo fpoke, Æneas had obey'd
What Dido, rather than what Jove had said.
If funeral rites can give a ghost repose,
Your muse so juftly has difcharged thofe,
Elifa's fhade may now its wandring cease,
And claim a title to the fields of peace.
But if Æneas be oblig'd, no lefs

Your kindness great Achilles doth confefs;
Who, drefs'd by Statius in too bold a look,
Did ill become those virgin robes he took.
To understand how much we owe to you,
We must your numbers, with your author's, view:
Then we shall see his work was lamely rough,
Each figure ftiff, as if defign'd in buff:
His colors laid fo thick on every place,

As only fhew'd the paint, but hid the face.
But as in perspective we beauties fee,
Which in the glafs, not in the picture, be;
So here our fight obligingly mistakes

That wealth, which his your bounty only makes.

Thus vulgar dishes are, by cooks disguis'd,

More for their dreffing, than their substance priz'd.

Your curious notes so search into that age,
When all was fable but the facred page,

That, fince in that dark night we needs must stray,
We are at least misled in pleasant way.

But what we moft admire, your verse no less
The prophet than the poet doth confess.

Ere our weak eyes difcern'd the doubtful streak
Of light, you faw great Charles his morning break.

So fkilful feamen ken the land from far,

Which fhews like mifts to the dull paffenger.

To Charles

muse first your

pays

her duteous love,

As still the antients did begin from Jove.

With Monk you end, whose name preserv'd shall be, As Rome recorded Rufus' memory,

Who thought it greater honor to obey

His country's intereft, than the world to fway.

But to write worthy things of worthy men,
Is the peculiar talent of your pen:
Yet let me take your mantle up, and I
Will venture in your right to prophesy.
"This work, by merit firft of fame secure,
"Is likewife happy in its geniture:

"For, fince 'tis born when Charles afcends the

throne,

"It fhares at once his fortune and its own."

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Learned and Ufeful WORKs; but more particularly his Treatife of STONE-HENGE, by him reftor'd to the true Founder.

HE longeft tyranny that ever sway'd,

THE

Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagyrite, And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one supply'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet fophifticate. Still it was bought, like emp'ric wares, or charms, Hard words feal'd up with Ariftotle's arms. Columbus was the firft that fhook his throne; And found a temp'rate in a torrid zone:

The fev'rish air fann'd by a cooling breeze,
The fruitful vales fet round with fhady 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 justly claim;
The western feas had been our utmost bound,
Where poets ftill might dream the fun was drown'd:
And all the stars that shine in fouthern fkies,
Had been admir'd by none but favage eyes.
Among th' afferters of free reafon's claim,
Our nation's not the leaft in worth or fame.
The world to Bacon does not only owe
Its prefent knowlege, but its future too.
Gilber fhall live, 'till loadstones cease to draw,
Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not less in nature seen,

Than his great brother read in ftates and men. The circling ftreams, once thought but pools, of blood

(Whether life's fuel, or the body's food)

From dark oblivion Harvey's name fhall fave
While Ent keeps all the honor that he gave,

Nor are

you, learned friend, the leaft renown'd;

Whofe fame, not circumfcrib'd with English

ground,

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