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He bids him live and grow in fame; Among the stars he sticks his name : The grave can but the drofs of him devour, So small is Death's, so great the Poet's, power

Lo, how th' obfequious wind, and swelling air,
The Theban swan does upwards bear
Into the walks of clouds, where he does play,
And with extended wings opens his liquid way!

Whilft, alas! my timorous Muse
Unambitious tracks purfues;
Does with weak, unballast wings,
About the mossy brooks and springs,
About the trees' new-blossom'd heads,
About the gardens' painted beds,
About the fields and flowery meads,
And all inferior beauteous things,

Like the laborious bee,

For little drops of honey flee,

And there with humble fweets contents her industry.

THE

RESURRECTION.

N

OT winds to voyagers at fea,

Nor showers to earth, more neceffary be

(Heaven's vital feed cast on the womb of earth

To give the fruitful year a birth)
Than Verse to Virtue; which can do

The midwife's office and the nurse's too;

It feeds it strongly, and it clothes it gay,
And, when it dies, with comely pride

Embalms it, and erects a pyramid

That never will decay
Till heaven itself shall melt away,
And nought behind it stay.

Begin the song, and strike the living lyre;

Lo! how the years to come, a numerous and well-fitted

quire,

All hand in hand do decently advance,

And to my fong with smooth and equal measures dance !!
Whilst the dance lasts, how long foe'er it be,
My music's voice shall bear it company;

Till all gentle notes be drown'd
In the last trumpet's dreadful found:

That to the spheres themselves shall filence bring,
Untune the univerfal string :
Then all the wide-extended sky,.
And all the harmonious worlds on high,.

And Virgil's facred work, shall die;

And he himself shall see in one fire shine

Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by hands

divine.

Whom thunder's dismal noise,

And all that prophets and apostles louder spake,
And all the creatures' plain conspiring voice,

Could not, whilst they liv'd, awake,
This mightier found shall make

C 4.

When

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When dead t' arife;

And open tombs, and open eyes,
To the long fluggards of five thousand years!
This mightier sound shall make its hearers ears.
Then shall the scatter'd atoms crowding come

Back to their ancient home;

Some from birds, from fishes some;
Some from earth, and some from feas;
Some from beasts, and some from trees;

Some descend from clouds on high,
Some from metals upwards fly,

And, where th' attending foul naked and shivering

stands,

Meet, falute, and join their hands;

As dispers'd foldiers, at the trumpet's call,
Haste to their colours all.

Unhappy moft, like tortur'd men,

Their joints new set, to be new-rack'd again,
To mountains they for shelter pray,

The mountains shake, and run about no less confus'd

than they.

Stop, stop, my Muse! allay thy vigorous heat,

Kindled at a hint so great;

Hold thy Pindaric Pegasus closely in,

Which does to rage begin,

And this steep hill would gallop up with violent course; 'Tis an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse,

Fierce and unbroken yet,
Impatient of the spur or bit;

Now prances stately, and anon flies o'er the place;
Disdains the fervile law of any settled pace,

Confcious and proud of his own natural force.
'Twill no unskilful touch endure,

But flings writer and reader too, that fits not fure.

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O, the rich chariot instantly prepare;
The Queen, my Muse, will take the air :

Unruly Fancy with strong Judgment trace;
Put in nimble-footed Wit,

Smooth-pac'd Eloquence join with it;

Sound Memory with young Invention place;
Harness all the winged race.

Let the postillion Nature mount, and let
The coachman Art be set;

And let the airy footmen, running all beside,
Make a long row of goodly pride,
Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Sentences,

In a well-worded dress ;

[Lyes,

And innocent Loves, and pleasant Truths, and useful

In all their gaudy liveries.

Mount, glorious Queen! thy travelling throne,

And bid it to put on';

For long, though chearful, is the way,

And life, alas! allows but one ill winter's day.

Where

Where never foot of man, or hoof of beaft,
The paffage press'd;

Where never fish did fly,

And with short filver wings cut the low liquid sky 3, Where bird with painted oars did ne'er

Row through the trackless ocean of the air;

Where never yet did pry

The bufy morning's curious eye;

The wheels of thy bold coach pass quick and free,. And all 's an open road to thee !

Whatever God did Say,

Is all thy plain and smooth uninterrupted way!
Nay, ev'n beyond his works thy voyages are known,
Thou 'haft thousand worlds too of thine own.

Thou speak'ft, great Queen! in the same style as He;
And a new world leaps forth when thou say'st, "Let

"it be."

Thou fathom'st the deep gulf of ages past,

And canst pluck up with ease

The years which thou dost please;

Like shipwreck'd treasures, by rude tempests caft

Long since into the fea,

"

Brought up again to light and public use by thee.

Nor doft thou only dive so low,

But fly

With an unwearied wing the other way on high,

Where Fates among the stars do grow;

There

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