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'Tis thus I rove, 'tis thus complain, Since you appear'd upon the plain;

You are the caufe of all my care:
Your eyes ten thousand dangers dart;
Ten thousand torments vex my heart:
I love, and I defpair.

Too much, Alexis, I have heard:
"Tis what I thought; 'tis what I fear'd:
And yet I pardon you, fhe cried:
But you fhall promise ne'er again

To breathe your vows, or fpeak your pain:
He bow'd, obey'd, and died.

To the Hon. CHARLES MONTAGUE, Efq. afterwards Earl of HALIFAX.



OWE'ER, 'tis well, that while mankind
Through fate's preverse mæander errs,

He can imagin'd pleasures find,

To combat against real cares.


Fancies and notions he pursues,

Which ne'er had being but in thought:


Each, like the Grecian artift, wooes

The image he himself has wrought.

Againft experience he believes ;

He argues against demonstration Pleas'd, when his reafon he deceives; And fets his judgement by his paffion.

IV. The


The hoary fool, who many days

Has ftruggled with continued forrow,
Renews his hope, and blindly lays
The defperate bett upon to-morrow.


To-morrow comes: 'tis noon, 'tis night;
This day like all the former flies :
Yet on he runs, to feek delight
To-morrow, till to-night he dies.

Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim
At objects in an airy height:
The little pleasure of the game
Is from afar to view the flight,

Our anxious pains we, all the day,

In fearch of what we like, employ; Scorning at night the worthlefs prey, We find the labour gave the joy. VIII.

At distance through an artful glass

To the mind's eye things will appear:
They lofe their forins, and make a mass
Confus'd and black, if brought too near.

If we fee right, we fee our woes :
Then what avails it to have eyes?.
From ignorance our comfort flows:
The only wretched are the wife,


X. We


We wearied fhould lie down in death:
This cheat of life would take no more,
If you thought fame but empty breath,

J, Phillis but a perjur'd whore.

Ad Virum doctiffimum Dominum SAMUELEM SHAW, cum Thefes de Ictero pro Gradu Doctoris defenderet, 4 Junii, 1692.

PHOEBE potens fævis morbis vel lædere gentes,

Læfas folerti vel relevare manu,

Afpice tu decus hoc noftrum, placidufque fatere
Indomitus quantum profit in arte labor:
Non icterum pofthac peftemve minaberis orbi,
Fortius hic juvenis dum medicamen habet :
Mittè dehinc iras, et nato carmina dona;
Neglectum telum dejice, fume lyram.

Tranflation. By Mr. COOKE.

PHOEBUS, deity, whofe powerful hand.
Can fpread difeafes through the joyful land,
Alike all-powerful to relieve the pain,
And bid the groaning nations fmile again;
When this our pride you fee, confefs you find
In him what art can do with labour join'd:
No more the world thy direful threats shall fear,
While he, the youth, our remedy, is near:
Supprefs thy rage; with verfe thy fon infpire,

e dart neglected, to affume the lyre.

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On the Taking of NAMUR.

HE town which Louis bought, Naffau re-claims,
And brings instead of bribes avenging flames.
Now, Louis, take thy titles from above,
Boileau fhall fing, and we'll believe thee Jove :
Jove gain'd his mistress with alluring gold,
But Jove like thee was impotent and old!
Active and young did he like William stand,
He 'ad ftunn'd the dame, his thunder in his hand.

ODE; in Imitation of HORACE, 3 Od. ii.
Written in 1692.


HOW long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie
In the lethargic fleep, the fad repofe,

By which thy close, thy conftant enemy,
Has foftly lull'd thee to thy woes ?

Or wake, degenerate ifle, or cease to own
What thy old kings in Gallic camps have done;

The fpoils they brought thee back, the crowns they


William (fo fate requires) again is arm'd;

Thy father to the field is gone :

Again Maria weeps her abfent lord,
For thy repofe content to rule alone.

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Are thy enervate fons not yet alarm'd ?

When William fights, dare they look tamely on,
So flow to get their ancient fame restor❜d,

As nor to melt at Beauty's tears, nor follow Valour's



See the repenting ifle awakes,

Her vicious chains the generous goddess breaks :
The fogs around her temples are dispell'd ;

Abroad she looks, and fees arm'd Belgia stand
Prepar'd to meet their common Lord's command ;
Her lions roaring by her fide, her arrows in her hand:
And, blufhing to have been fo long with-held,
Weeps off her crime, and haftens to the field:
Henceforth her youth shall be inur'd to bear
Hazardous toil and active war:

To march beneath the dog-ftar's raging heat,
Patient of fummer's drought, and martial fweat;
And only grieve in winter's camps to find -
Its days too fhort for labours they defign'd:
All night beneath hard heavy arms to watch; ..
All day to mount the trench, to storm the breach;
And all the rugged paths to tread,
Where William and his virtue lead.


Silence is the foul of war;

Deliberate counsel must prepare

The mighty work, which valour must compleat:
Thus William refcued, thus preferves the ftate;
Thus teaches us to think and dare.


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