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 fmall is Death's, fo great the Poet's, power!

Lo, how th' obfequious wind, and fwelling air,
The Theban fwan 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 pursues;

Does with weak, unballaft wings,
About the moffy brooks and springs,
About the trees' new-bloffom'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 induftry.

THE

RESURRECTION.

OT winds to voyagers at sea,

NOT

Nor fhowers to earth, more neceffary be

(Heaven's vital feed caft on the womb of earth To give the fruitful year a birth)

Than Verfe to Virtue; which can do

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

It feeds it ftrongly, 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 fhall melt away,

And nought behind it stay.

Begin the fong, and ftrike 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 fmooth and equal meafures dance ! {
Whilst the dance lafts, how long foe'er it be,
My mufic's voice fhall bear it company;
Till all gentle notes be drown'd

In the last trumpet's dreadful found :
That to the spheres themfelves fhall filence bring,
Untune the univerfal ftring:

Then all the wide-extended fky,

And all th' harmonious worlds on high,.

And Virgil's facred work, fhall die;

And he himself fhall fee in one fire fhine

Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by hands divine.

Whom thunder's difinal noife,

And all that prophets and apostles louder spake,
And all the creatures' plain confpiring voice,
Could not, whilft they liv'd, awake,
This mightier found fhall make

When dead t' arife;

And open tombs, and open eyes,

To the long fluggards of five thousand years!
This mightier found fhall make its hearers ears.
Then fhall the fcatter'd atoms crowding come
Back to their ancient home;

Some from birds, from fifhes fome;
Some from earth, and fome from feas;
Some from beafts, and fome from trees;
Some defcend from clouds on high,

Some from metals upwards fly,

And, where th' attending foul naked and fhivering ftands,

Meet, falute, and join their hands;
As difpers'd foldiers, at the trumpet's call,
Hafte to their colours all.

Unhappy moft, like tortur'd men,
Their joints new fet, to be new-rack'd again,
To mountains they for fhelter pray,

The mountains fhake, and run about no lefs confus'd than they.

Stop, ftop, my Mufel allay thy vigorous heat,

Kindled at a hint fo great;

Hold thy Pindaric Pegafus clofely in,

Which does to rage begin,

And this fteep hill would gallop up with violent courfe; 'Tis an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horfe,

Fierce and unbroken yet,

Impatient of the fpur or bit;

Now prances stately, and anon flies o'er the place;
Difdains the fervile law of any fettled pace,
Confcious and proud of his own natural force.
'Twill no unfkilful touch endure,

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

Go, the rich chariot inftantly prepare,

The Queen, my Mufe, 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 fet;

And let the airy footmen, running all befide,
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 beast,

The paffage prefs'd;

Where never fish did fly,

And with fhort filver wings cut the low liquid fky ;,
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 pafs 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 fame ftyle as He;
And a new world leaps forth when thou fay'ft," Let

"it be."

Thou fathom'ft the deep gulf of ages paft,

And canft pluck up with ease The years which thou doft please;

Like fhipwreck'd treasures, by rude tempests caft

Long fince into the fea,

Brought up again to light and public ufe by thee.

Nor doft thou only dive fo low,

But fly

With an unwearied wing the other way on high,
Where Fates among the stars do grow ;:

There