How your fad fickening art now hangs her head,
And, once a science, is become a trade.
Her fons ne'er rifle her myfterious store,
But ftudy nature lefs, and lucre more.
Not fo when Rome to th' Epidaurian rais'd
A temple, where devoted incenfe blaz'd.
Oft' father Tiber views the lofty fire,

As the learn'd fon is worship'd like the fire;
The fage with Romulus like honours claim;
The gift of life and laws were then the fame.

I fhow'd of old, how vital currents glide,
And the meanders of the refluent tide.

315

320

Then, Willis, why fpontaneous actions here,

325

And whence involuntary motions there:

And how the fpirits, by mechanic laws,

In wild careers tumultuous riots caufe.

Nor would our Wharton, Bates, and Gliffon, lie
In the abyss of blind obfcurity.

330

But now fuch wondrous fearches are forborn,

And Pæan's art is by divifions torn.

Then let your Charge attend, and I 'll explain

How her loft health your science may regain.

Hafte, and the matchlefs Atticus addrefs,

335

From Heaven and great Naffau he has the mace.
Th' opprefs'd to his afylum ftill repair ;

Arts he fupports, and learning is his care.
He foftens the harsh rigour of the laws,

Blunts their keen edge, and grinds their harpy claws;
And graciously he cafts a pitying eye

On the fad ftate of virtuous poverty.

When:

Whene'er he speaks, Heaven! how the liftening throng Dwells on the melting mufic of his tongue!

His arguments are emblems of his mien,

Mild, but not faint, and forcing, though ferene;
And, when the power of eloquence he 'd try,
Here lightning strikes you; there foft breezes figh.
To him you must your fickly ftate refer,
Your charter claims him as your vifiter.
Your wounds he 'll close, and fovereignly restore
Your fcience to the height it had before.
Then 'Naffau's health fhall be your glorious aim;
His life fhould be as lafting as his fame.
Some princes' claims from devastations fpring;
He condefcends in pity to be king :

And, when amidst his olives plac'd he stands,
And governs more by candour than commands i
Ev'n then not lefs a hero he appears,

Than when his laurel-diadem he wears.

Would Phoebus, or his Granville, but infpire
Their facred vehemence of poetic fire;
To celebrate in song that god-like power,
Which did the labouring universe restore :
Fair Albion's cliffs would echo to the ftrain,.
And praise the arm that conquer'd, to regain
The carth's repose, and empire o'er the main.

Still may th' immortal man his cares repeat,
To make his bleffings endless as they 're great:
Whilst malice and ingratitude confess

They 've strove for ruin long without fuccefs.

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350

355

360

365

370

When

t

When, late, Jove's eagle from the pile fhall rife.
To bear the victor to the boundless skies,
Awhile the god puts off paternal care,

Neglects the earth, to give the heavens a star.
Near thee, Alcides, fhall the hero fhine;
His rays refembling, as his labours, thine.
Had fome fam'd patriot, of the Latian blood,
Like Julius great, and like Octavius good,
But thus preferv'd the Latian liberties,
Afpiring columns foon had reach'd the skies:
Loud Io's the proud capitol had shook,

And all the ftatues of the gods had spoke.

No more the Sage his raptures could pursue:

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380

He paus'd; and Celfus with his Guide withdrew. 385.

CLARE

CLAREMONT:

Addreffed to the Right Honourable the Earl of CLARE, afterwards Duke of NEWCASTLE.

"-Dryadum fylvas, faltufque fequamur “Intactos, tua, Mæcenas, haud mollia juffa." VIRG.

PREFACE.

THEY that have feen those two excellent poems of Cooper's-hill and Windfor-foreft; the one by Sir J. Denham, the other by Mr. Pope; will shew a great deal of candour if they approve of this. It was written. upon giving the name of Claremont to a villa, now belonging to the earl of Clare. The fituation is fo agreeable and furprizing, that it inclines one to think fome place of this nature put Ovid at first upon the ftory of Narciffus and Echo. It is probable he had obferved fome fpring arifing amongst woods and rocks, where echos were heard; and fome flower bending over the ftream, and by confequence reflected from it. After reading the story in the third book of the Metamor

phofis,

phofis, it is obvious to object (as an ingenious friend has already done) that the renewing the charms of a nymph, of which Ovid had difpoffeffed her,

"vox tantùm atque offa fuperfunt,"

is too great a violation of poetical authority. I dare fay the gentleman who is meant, would have been well pleafed to have found no faults. There are not many authors one can fay the fame of: experience fhews us every day that there are writers who cannot bear a brother fhould fucceed, and the only refuge from their indignation is by being inconfiderable; upon which reflection, this thing ought to have a pretence to their favour.

They who would be more informed of what relates to the ancient Britons, and the Druids their priests, may confult Pliny, Ovid, and the other claffic authors that have mentioned them.

CLAREMON T.

WHAT frenzy has of late poffefs'd the brain!

Though few can write, yet fewer can refrain.

So rank our foil, our bards rife in fuch store,
Their rich retaining patrons scarce are more.
The laft indulge the fault the firft commit;
And take off ftill the offal of their wit.
So fhamelefs, fo abandon'd, are their ways;
They poach Parnaffus, and lay fnares for praise.

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