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Hither, as to their per place, arise

All various founds from earth, and feas, and skies,
Or spoke aloud, or whisper'd in the ear;
Nor ever filence, reft, or peace is here.
As on the fmooth expanfe of cryftal lakes
The finking ftone at firft a circle makes,
The trembling surface by the motion starr'd,
Spreads in a fecond circle, then a third;

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Wide, and more wide, the floating rings advance, 440
Fill all the wat❜ry plain, and to the margin dance;
Thus ev'ry voice and found, when firft they break
On neighb'ring air, a foft impreffion make;
Another ambient circle then they move;
That in its turn impels the next above;
Through undulating air the founds are fent,

And spread o'er all the fluid element.

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There various news I heard of love and strife,

Of peace and war, health, fick nefs, death, and life,
Of lofs and gain, of famine and of store,

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Of storms at fea, and travels on the fhore,

Of prodigies, and portents feen in air,

Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing hair,

Of turns of fortune, changes in the state,

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The falls of fav'rites, projects of the great,
Of old mifmanagements, taxations new;
All neither wholly falfe, nor wholly true.

Above, below, without, within, around,
Confus'd, unnumber'd multitudes are found,
Who país, repafs, advance, and glide away,
Hofts rais'd by fear, and phantoms of a day:
Aftrologers, that future fates forefhew;
Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few;
And priests, and party-zealots, num'rous bands;
With home-born lies, or tales from foreign lands,
Each talk'd aloud, or in fome fecret place,
And wild impatience star'd in ev'ry face.
They Eying rumours gather'd as they roll'd,
Scarce any tale was fooner heard than told;
And all who told it added fomething new,
And all who heard it made enlargements too;
In ev'ry ear it spread, on ev'ry tongue it grew.

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Thus flying eaft and weft, and north and fouth,
News travell'd with increase from mouth to mouth.
So from a fpark, that kindled first by chance,
With gath'ring force the quick'ning flames advance,
Till to the clouds their curling heads afpire,
And tow'rs and temples fink in floods of fire.
When thus ripe lies are to perfection fprung,
Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal tongue,
Thro' thoufand vents, impatient, forth they flow,
And rush in millions on the world below.

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Fame fits aloft, and points them out their course, Their date determines, and prescribes their force: Some to remain, and fome to perish soon, Or wane and wax alternate like the moon. Around a thoufand winged wonders fly,

Borne by the trumpet's blaft, and scatter'd thro' the There, at one paffage, oft you might furvey [sky.

A lie and truth contending for the way;

And long 'twas doubtful, both fo closely pent,

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Which firft fhould iffue thro' the narrow vent:
At laft agreed, together out they fly,

The ftrict companions are for ever join'd,

Infeparable now the truth and lie;

And this or that unmix'd no mortal e'er fhall find.
While thus I ftood, intent to fee and hear,
One came, methought, and whifper'd in my ear,
What could thus high thy rash ambition raise?
Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praise?

'Tis true, faid I, not void of hopes I came,
For who fo fond as youthful bards of fame?
But few, alas! the cafual bleffing boast,
So hard to gain, fo eafy to be loft.
How vain that fecond life in others' breath,
Th' eftate which wits inherit after death!

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Eafe, health, and life, for this they must refign,
(Unfure the tenure, but how vaft the fine!)
The great man's curfe, without the gains, endure,
Be envy'd, wretched, and be flatter'd, poor;
All luckle's wits their enemies profeft,
And all fuccefsful, jealous friends at best.

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Nor

Nor Fame I flight, nor for her favours call;
She comes unlook'd for, if fhe comes at all.
But if the purchase costs fo dear a price,
As foothing folly, or exalting vice;

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Oh! if the Mufe muft flatter lawless sway,
And follow ftill where Fortune leads the way;
Or if no basis bear my rifing name,

But the fall'n ruins of another's fame;

Then teach me, Heav'n! to scorn the guilty bays,
Drive from my breast that wretched luft of praise;
Unblemish'd let me live, or die unknown:
Oh! grant an honeft Fame, or grant me none!

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THE

OR,

THE MERCHANT'S TALE.

FROM CHAUCER.

HERE liv'd in Lombardy, as authors write,
In days of old, a wife and worthy knight;
Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race,

Bleft with much fenfe, more riches, and fome grace;
Yet, led aftray by Venus' oft delights,
He fcarce could rule fome idle appetites:
For long ago, let prieits fay what they cou'd,
Weak finful laymen were but flesh and blood.

But in due time, when fixty years were o'er,
He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more:
Whether pure holiness inipir'd his mind,
Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find;
But his high courage prick'd him forth to wed,
And try the pleafures of a lawful bed.
This was his nightly dream, his daily care,
And to the heav'nly pow'rs his conftant pray'r,
Once, ere he dy'd, to taste the blifsful life'
Of a kind husband and a loving wife.

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Thefe thoughts he fortify'd with reasons still,

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(For none want reasons to confirm their will.)
Grave authors fay, and witty poets fing,
That honeft wedlock is a glorious thing:
But depth of judgment most in him appears,
Who wifely weds in his maturer years.
Then let him chufe a damfel young and fair,

To footh his cares, and, free from noife and ftrife,

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To blefs his age, and bring a worthy heir;

Conduct him gently to the verge of life.

Let finful bachelors their woes deplore,

Full well they merit all they feel, and more:

Unaw'd by precepts, human or divine,

Nor know to make the prefent bleffing last,

Like birds and beaits, promifcuously they join;

To hope the future, or esteem the pait:

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But

But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
And find divulg'd the fecrets they would hide.
The marry'd man'may bear his yoke with ease,
Secure at once himself and Heav'n to please;
And pafs his inoffenfive hours away,

In bliss all night, and innocence all day :
Tho' fortune change, his conftant spouse remains,
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.

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But what fo pure which envious tongues will spare? Some wicked wits have libel'd all the fair.

With matchless impudence they style a wife,

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The dear-bought curfe and lawful plague of life;
A bofom ferpent, a domestic evil,

A night invafion, and a mid-day devil.

Let not the wife these fland'rous words regard,
But curse the bones of ev'ry lying bard.

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All other goods by Fortune's hand are giv'n,
A wife is the peculiar gift of Heav'n.
Vain Fortune's favours, never at a stay,
Like empty fhadows, pafs and glide away;
One folid comfort, our eternal wife
Abundantly fupplies us all our life:

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This bleffing lafts, (if those who try say true,)

As long as heart can wish-and longer too.
Our grandfire Adam, ere of Eve poffeft,

Alone, and e'en in paradise unbleft,

With mournful looks the blissful scene survey'd,

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And wander'd in the folitary fhade.

The Maker faw, took pity, and bestow'd

Woman, the laft, and beft referv'd of God.

A wife! ah gentle deities! can he

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That has a wife e'er feel adversity?

Would men but follow what the fex advise,

All things would profper, all the world grow wife. 'Twas by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won

His father's bleffing from an elder fon:

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Abufive Nabal ow'd his forfeit life

To the wife conduct of a prudent wife:

Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show,

Preferv'd the Jews, and flew th' Affyrian foe:

At

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