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And when this cloud of forrow 's over-blown,

Through the wide world we 'll make her graces known.
So fresh the wound is, and the grief fo vaft,

That all our art, and power of speech, is waste.
Here paffion fways, but there the Mufe fhall raise
Eternal monuments of louder praise.

There our delight, complying with her fame,
Shall have occafion to recite thy name,
Fair Sachariffa!-and now only fair!
To facred friendship we 'll an altar rear;
(Such as the Romans did erect of old :)
Where, on a marble pillar, fhall be told
The lovely paffion each to other bare,
With the refemblance of that matchlefs Pair.
Narciffus to the thing for which he pin'd

Was not more like, than your's to her fair mind;
Save that she grac'd the feveral parts of life,
A fpotlefs virgin, and a faultlefs wife;
Such was the fweet converse 'twixt her and you,.
As that fhe holds with her affociates now.

How falfe is Hope, and how regardless Fate,
That fuch a love should have fo fhort a date!
Lately I faw her fighing part from thee :
(Alas that fuch the laft farewel should be!)
So look'd Aftræa, her remove design'd,
On those diftreffed friends fhe left behind.
Confent in virtue knit your hearts so fast,
That still the knot, in spite of death, does last:
For, as your tears, and forrow-wounded foul,
Prove well that on your part this bond is whole:

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So, all we know of what they do above,

Is, that they happy are, and that they love.
Let dark oblivion, and the hollow grave,
Content themselves our frailer thoughts to have:
Well-chofen love is never taught to die,

But with our nobler part invades the sky.
Then grieve no more, that one fo heavenly shap'd
The crooked hand of trembling age efcap'd.

Rather, fince we beheld her not decay,

But that the vanish'd fo entire away,

Her wondrous beauty, and her goodness, merit
We should fuppofe, that fome propitious spirit
In that cœlestial form frequented here;

And is not dead, but ceases to appear.

THE BATTLE OF THE SUMMER-ISLANDS.

CANTO I.

What fruits they have, and how heaven smiles
Upon those late-discover'd iles.

AID me, Bellona! while the dreadful fight

Betwixt a nation, and two whales, I write :
Seas ftain'd with gore I fing, adventurous toil!
And how these monsters did difarm an ifle.

Bermuda wall'd with rocks who does not know?
That happy island! where huge lemons grow;
And orange trees, which golden fruit do bear
Th' Hefperian garden boasts of none so fair :"
Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound,
On the rich fhore, of amber-gris, is found.

The

The lofty cedar, which to heaven aspires,

The Prince of trees! is fuel for their fires :
The smoke, by which their loaded fpits do turn,
For incenfe might on facred altars burn:
Their private roofs on odorous timber borne,
Such as might palaces for Kings adorn.
The sweet palmitoes a new Bacchus yield,
With leaves as ample as the broadest shield :
Under the shadow of whose friendly boughs
They fit, caroufing where their liquor grows.
Figs there unplanted through the fields do grow,
Such as fierce Cato did the Romans fhow;
With the rare fruit inviting them to spoil
Carthage, the mistress of so rich a foil.

The naked rocks are not unfruitful there,
But, at fome constant seasons every year,
Their barren tops with luscious food abound;
And with the eggs of various fowls are crown'd.
Tobacco is the worst of things, which they
To English landlords, as their tribute, pay.
Such is the mould, that the bleft tenant feeds
On precious fruits, and pays his rent in weeds.
With candy'd plantains, and the juicy pine,
On choiceft melons, and fweet grapes, they dine:
And with potatoes fat their wanton fwine.
Nature thefe cates with fuch a lavifh hand

Pours out among them, that our coarfer land
Tastes of that bounty; and does cloth return,
Which not for warmth,

but ornament, is worn:

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For the kind fpring, which but falutes us here,
Inhabits there, and courts them all the year:
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live;
At once they promife, what at once they give.
So fweet the air, fo moderate the clime,;
None fickly lives, or dies before his time.
Heaven fure has kept this fpot of earth uncurft,
To fhew how all things were created first.
The tardy plants in our cold orchards plac'd,
Referve their fruit for the next age's taste :
There, a fmall grain, in fome few months, will be
A firm, a lofty, and a spacious tree.
The Palma-Chrifti, and the fair papà,
Now but a feed (preventing nature's law)
In half the circle of the hafty year
Project a fhade, and lovely fruits do wear.
And as their trees, in our dull region fet,
But faintly grow, and no perfection get;
So, in this northern tract, our hoarfer throats
Utter unripe and ill-conftrained notes :
While the fupporter of the Poet's ftyle,
Phoebus, on them eternally does fmile.
Oh how I long my carelefs limbs to lay
Under the plantain's shade; and all the day
With amorous airs my fancy entertain;
Tuvoke the Mofes, and improve my vein!
No paffion there in my free break should move,
None but the Reect, ac bef of paflions, love.
There wl. 3 She candle Love be by,

The t

wing wind, the #ring so high;

With the fweet found of Sacharissa's name,
I'll make the listening savages grow tàme.—
But while I do these pleasing dreams indite,
I am diverted from the promis'd fight.

CANTO II.

Of their alarm, and how their foes
Discover'd were, this Canto fhows.

THOUGH rocks fo high about this island rife,

That well they may the numerous Turk despise;

Yet is no human fate exempt from fear;

Which shakes their hearts, while through the isle they hear A lafting noise, as horrid and as loud

As thunder makes, before it breaks the cloud.

Three days they dread this murmur, ere they know From what blind caufe th' unwonted found may grow a At length two monsters of unequal fize,

Hard by the shore, a fisherman espies ;

Two mighty whales! which fwelling feas had toft,

And left them prifoners on the rocky coast.

One, as a mountain vaft; and with her came

A cub, not much inferior to his dam.
Here in a pool among the rocks engag'd,
They roar'd, like lions caught in toils, and rag`d.
The man knew what they were, who heretofore
Had feen the like lie murther'd on the fhore:
By the wild fury of fome tempeft cast,

The fate of fhips, and fhip-wreck'd men, to taste.

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