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The FIRST BOOK
The FIRST BOOK, &c. ?
Thy Hand slew Python; and the Dame who lost
Propitious hear our Pray’r, O Pow'r Divine! And on thy Hospitable Argas shine. Whether the Style of Titan please thee more, Whose Purple Rays th’Achæmenes adore ; Or great Osyris, who first taught the Swain In Pharian Fields to fow the Golden Grain; Or Mitra, to whose Beams the Persian bows, And pays
in hollow Rocks his awful Vows, Mitra, whose Head the Blaze of Light adorns, Who grasps the strugling Heifer's Lunar Horns.
The End of the first Book.
In order to be Sung as Chorus's between the Acts of a Play of Shakespear that was altered.
First Song after the End of the
Chorus of Free Citizens of Rome.
Hither is Ancient Virtue gone?
What is become of Justice now? That Valour, which so bright has shone, And with the Wings of Conquest flown, Must to a haughty Master bow:
Who with our Toil, our Blood, and all we have be
[fide, Gorges his ill-got Power, his Humour or his Pride
He frankly does his Life expose:
So will a Lyon or a Bear.
[roam; Who round the World, for Wealth, and Empire, And never, never think, what Slaves we are at
Did Men, for this, together Join, i
Quitting the free wild Life of Nature?
For setting up his Fellow-Creature,
[Men, Oh, rather than be Slaves to false and worthless
[and Caves agen. Give us our Wildness, and our Woods, our Huts,
There secure from Lawless Sway,
Out of Pride, or Envy's way;
[Sheep; Happily we all might live, and Harmless as our Then at length as calmly dye, as Infants fall asleep.
Second SONG after the second
A C T.
The Genius of Rome.
O, to prevent this awful Empire's Doom,
[come, The Mighty Genius of Majestick Rome.
Her * Fate approaches! yet, I will ingage
* The Fall of the Commonwealth, when it was chang’d into Tyranny.
'Tis hard so Brave a Man should fall so low; But worse, to let so Great a People bow To one themselves have rais'd, who scorns them
Yet, oh, I grieve that Brutus should be stain'd, Whose Life, excepting this one AA, remain'd So Pure, that future Times will think it feign'd.
But only He can make the Rest combine ;
Life and Soul of their Design :
Unthinking Men no sort of Scruples make;
Thus, while they all for Publick Good intend