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Flies like the nimble journies of the light ;
And is, like that, unspent too in its flight.
Whatever truths have been, by art or chance,
Redeem'd from error, or from ignorance,
Thin in their authors, like rich veins of ore,
Your works unite, and still discover more.
Such is the healing virtue of your pen,
To perfect cures on books, as well as men.
ivor is this work the least: you well may give
To men new vigor, who make stones to live.
Thro you, the Danes, their short dominion loft,
A longer conquest than the Saxons boast.
Stonehenge, once thought a temple, you have found
A throne, where kings, our earthly gods, were

crown'd;
Where by their wond'ring subjects they were seen:
Joy'd with their stature, and their princely mien.
Our sovereign here above the rest might stand,
And here be chose again to rule the land.

These ruins Thelter'd once his sacred head,
When he from Worster's fatal battle fled ;
Watch'd by the genius of this royal place,
And mighty visions of the Danish race.
His refuge then was for a temple shown :
But, he restor’d, 'tis now become a throne.

1

EPISTLÉ the THIRD.

TO

Τ Η Ε

LADY CASTLEMA I N,

Upon her encouraging his first Play.

A

S seamen, shipwreck'd on some happy shore,

Discover wealth in lands unknown before ; And, what their art had labor'd long in vain, By their misfortunes happily obtain : So

my much-envy'd muse, by storms long tost, Is thrown upon your hospitable coast, And finds more favor by her ill success, Than she could hope for by her happiness. Once Cato's virtue did the gods oppose; While they the victor, he the vanquish'd chose : But you have done what Cato could not do, To choose the vanquish'd, and restore him too. Let others still triumph, and gain their cause By their deserts, or by the world's applause; Let merit crowns, and justice laurels give, But let me happy by your pity live. True poets empty fame and praise despise, Fame is the trumpet, but your smile the prize,

You fit above, and see vain men below
Contend for what you only can bestow :
But those great actions others do by chance,
Are, like

your beauty, your inheritance :
So great a foul, such sweetness join'd in one,
Could only spring from noble Grandison.
You, like the stars, not by reflection bright,
Are born to your own heaven, and your own light;
Like them are good, but from a nobler cause,
From your own knowlege, not from nature's laws.
Your power you never use, but for defence,
To guard your own, or other's innocence :
Your foes are such, as they, not you, have made,
And virtue may repel, tho not invade.
Such
courage

did the antient heroes show, Who, when they might prevent, would wait the

blow:
With such assurance as they meant to say,
We will o'ercome, but fcorn the safeft

way.
What further fear of danger can there be ?
Beauty, which captives all things, fets me free.
Posterity will judge by my success,
I had the Grecian poet's happiness,
Who, waving plots, found out a better way;
Some God descended, and preserv'd the play.

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When first the triumphs of your sex were sung By those old poets, beauty was but young, e, And few admir’d the native red and white,

Till poets dress’d them up to charm the fight; ne, So beauty took on trust, and did

engage For sums of praises till she came to age. But this long-growing debt to poetry

You justly, madam, have discharg'd to me, le, When your applause and favor did infuse 1. New life to my condemn'd and dying muse.

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HE blast of common censure could I fear,

Before your play my name should not appear ; For 'twill be thought, and with some color too, I pay the bribe I first receiv'd from you ; That mutual vouchers for our fame we stand, And play the game into each other's hand; And as cheap pen’orths to ourselves afford, As Bessus and the brothers of the sword,

Such libels private men may well endure,
When states and kings themselves are not secure:
For ill men, conscious of their inward guilt,
Think the beft actions on by-ends are built.
And yet my silence had not 'scap'd their spite ;
Then, envy had not suffer'd me to write ;
For, since I could not ignorance pretend,
Such merit I must envy or commend.
So
many

candidates there stand for wit, i A place at court is scarce so hard to get :

In vain they crowd each other at the door ;
For e'en reversions are all begg'd before :
Desert, how known foe'er, is long delay'd ;
And then too fools and knavęs are better pay’d.
Yet, as some actions bear so great a name,
That courts themselves are just, for fear of shame;
So has the mighty merit of your play
Extorted praise, and forc'd itself away.
'Tis here as 'tis at sea; who farthest goes,
Or dares the most, makes all the rest his foes.
Yet when some virtue much outgrows the rest,
It Noots too fast, and high, to be exprest;
As his heroic worth struck envy dumb,
Who took the Dutchman, and who cut the boom.

Such

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