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When freed he moves, the sturdy Cable bends, He mounts with Pleasure, and secure descends; Now dropping seems to strike the distant Ground, Now high in Air his quiv'ring Feet rebound.

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Rail on, ye Triflers, who to Will's repair
For new Lampoons, fresh Cant, or modish Air;
Rail on at Milton's Son, who wisely bold
Rejeas new Phrases, and resumes the old:
Thus Chaucer lives in younger Spencer's Strains,
In Maro's Page reviving Ennius reigns;
The ancient Words the Majesty compleat,
And make the Poem venerably great:
So when the Queen in royal Habit's drest,
Old mystick Emblems grace th’Imperial Vest,
And in Eliza's Robes all Anna stands confest.


A haughty Bard to Fame by Volumes rais'd, At Dịck’s and Bat fon's,and thro?Smithfield prais’d,

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Cries out aloud Bold Oxford Bard forbear
With rugged Numbers to torment my Ear; : ;?
Yet not like thee the heavy Critick foars, ::
But paints in Fustian, or in turn deplores;
With Bunyan's Style profanes heroic Songs,
To the tenth Page lean Homilies prolongs;
For far-fetch'dRhymes makes puzled Angels strain,
And in low Profe dull Lucifer complain;
His envious Muse by native Dullness curst,
Damns the best Poems, and contrives the worst.

Beyond his Praise or Blame thy Works prevail, Compleat where. Dryden and thy Milton fail; Great Milton's Wing on lower Themes subsides, And Dryden oft in Rhyme his Weakness hides; You ne'er with jingling Words deceive the Ear, And yet, on humble Subjects, great appear.

Thrice happy Youth whom noble Ifis crowns!
Whom Blackmore cenfures, and Godolphin owns;
So on the tuneful Margarita's Tongue
The lif’ning Nymphs, and ravish'd Heroes hung;
But Citts and Fops the Heav'n-born Mufick blame,
And bawl, and hiss, and damn her into Fame;
Like her fweet Voice is thy harmonious Song,
As high, as fweet, as eafie, and as strong.

Ok! had relenting Heav'n prolong'd his Days, The tow'ring Bard had sung in nobler Lays, How the last Trumpet wakes the lazy Dead,

How Saints aloft the Crofs triumphant fpread; Howop’ning Heav'ns their happy Regions show,

Eglow And yawning Gulphs with flaming Vengeance And Saints rejoyce above, and Sinnershowl beWell might he fing the Day he could not fear, And paint the Glories he was sure to wear.



Oh beft of Friends, will ne'er the filent Urn To our juft Vows the hapless Youth return... Must be no more divert the tedious Days; NorSparkling Thoughtsin antique Words conveye No more to harmless Irony descend, To noify Fools a grave Attention lend, Nor merry Tales with learn’d Quotationsblend? No more in falfe pathetick Phrase complain Of Delia's Wit, ber Charms, and her Difdain: Who now Thalt God-like Anna's Eame diffuse? Müft the, when moft the merits, want a Mufet Who now our Tryfden's glorious Fate saab tell; How lov'd he liv'd, and how deplor'd he fell: How, while the troubled Elements around, Earth, Water, Air, the fiugning Dinn refound; Through Streams of Smoak, and adverse Fire he

[rides, While ev'ry Shoto is levelld at his Sides;


How, while the fainting Dutch remotely fire,
And the fam'd Eugene's Iron Troops retire,
In the first Front amidst a slaughter'd Pile,
High on the Mound he dy'd near Great Argyle


Whom shall I find unbyafs'd in Dispute, Eager to learn, unwilling to confute? To whom the Labours of my Soul disclose, ; Reveal my Pleasure, or discharge my Woes? Oh! in that heav'nly Youth for ever ends The Beft of Sons, of Brothers, and of Friends. He sacred Friendship's strictest Laws obey'd, Yet more byConscience than byFriendshipfway'd; Against himself his Gratitude maintain'd, By Favours past, not future Profpe&ts gaind: Not nicely chusing, tho' by all desir'd, Tho' learn'd, not vain; and humble, tho’admir'd:

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