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Beneath his haughty reign ; and all his slaves
Under his yoke shall groan, and scarce shall groan
Without a crime. Here torturing engines roar
With human voice disguis'd; earth, water, fire,
Are made (dire elements of cruelty !)
Subservient to his luft, and power to kill :
Yet Tall the herd endure, nor dare to break
United their imaginary chain ;
While their great monarch chills with equal fears,
No less a slave than they. Each rumour shakes
The baughty purple, dark and cloudy cares
Involve the aweful throne, that stands erect,
Balanc'd on the wild people's temper'd rage,
And fortify'd with dangerous arts of power.
But death shall shift those scenes of misery;
Then doubtful titles kindle up new wars,
And urge on ling’ring fate ; the enfigns blaze
About the camp, and drums and trumpets sound,
Prepare a solemn way to griezly war;
Javelins and bearded spears in ghaftly ranks
Erect their shining heads, and round the field
A harvest's seen of formidable death;
Then joins the horrid shock, whose bellowing burst
Torments the shatter'd air, and drowns the groans
Of men below that roll in certain death.
These are the mortal sports, the tragic plays
By man himself embroil'd; the dire debate
Makes the waste desart seem serene and mild,

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Where savage nature in one common lies,
By homely cots poffess’d; all squalid, wild,
And despicably poor, they range the field,
And feel their share of hunger, care, and pain,
Cheated by flying prey; and now they tear
Their panting flesh; and now with nails unclean
They tug their shaggy beards; and deeply quaff
Of human woe, even when they rudely fip
The flowing stream, or chew the favory pulp
Of nature's freiheit viands ; fragrant fruits
Enjoy'd with trembling, and in danger fought.

But where th' appointed limits of a law
Fences the general safety of the world,
No greater quiet reigns ; for wanton man,
In giddy frolic, easily leaps o'er
His own invented bounds; hence rapine, fraud,
Revenge, and luft, and all the hideous train
Of nameless ills, distort the meagre

mind To endless shapes of woe.

Here misers mourn
Departed gold, and their defrauded heirs
Dire perjuries complain ; the blended loads
Of punishment and crime deform the world,
And give no rest to man ; with pangs and throes
He enters on the stage ; prophetic tears
And infant cries prelude his future woes;
And all is one continu'd scene of grief,
'Till the fad fable curtain falls in death.

But

.

But that last act fall in one moment close Ot doubt and darkness ; pain shall crack the strings Of life decay'd; no less the soul convuls’d, Trembles in anxious cares, and shuddering stands, Afraid to leap into the opening gulf Of future fate, till all the banks of clay Fall from beneath his feet: in vain he grasps The shatter'd reeds that cheat his easy wish. Reason is now no more ; that narrow lamp (Which with its fickly fires would shoot its beams To distances unknown, and stretch its rays Afkance my paths, in deepest darkness veil'd) Is sunk into his socket ; inly there It burns a dismal light; th' expiring flame Is choak’d in fumes, and parts in various doubt.

Then the gay glories of the living world , Shall cast their empty varnish, and retire Out of his feeble view; and rising shade Sit hov'ring o'er all nature's various face, Music shall cease, and instruments of joy Shall fail that sullen hour; nor can che mind Attend their sounds, when fancies swin in death, Confus'd and crush'd with cares : for long thal feem The dreary road, and melancholy dark, That leads he knows not where. Here empty space Gapes horrible, and threatens to absorh All being: yonder footy demons glare, And dolorous fpectres grin; the fhapelefs rout

Of wild imagination dance and play
Before his eyes obscure : till all in death
Shall vanish, and the prisoner, now enlarg'd,
Regains the flaming borders of the sky.

He ended. Peals of thunder rend the heavens,
And Chaos, from the bottom turn'd, resounds
The mighty clangor : All the heavenly hoft
Approve the high decree, and loud they fing
Eternal justice ; while the guilty troops,
Sad with their doom, but sad without despair,
Fall Auttering down to Lethe's lake, and there
For penance, and the destin'd body, wait.

CHIRON to ACHILLES.

Α Ρ Ο Ε Μ.

By SIR HILDEBRAND JACOB, Bart.

Res eft fevera voluptas.

When he beheld him rip’ning into man.

Accomplih'd youth; well worthy of my pains, You now are free, and guide yourself the reins : “ Yet hear, Achilles, hear, before we part, “ A few short precepts from a faithful heart.

6. What

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" What though the gods a Nestor's age deny !

Let management a longer life fapply, « And learn, at least, to live, before you die. « A little tract, well till'd, more profit yields " Than realms of wild, uncultivated fields. “ 'Tis not from length of years our pleasures flow, “ Nor to the gods alone our bliss we owe. “Our happiness and pain depend on us; “ Man's his own good, or evil genius, " Great ills by art we lighten, or remove, ** And art our meanest pleasures may improve: “ Much to ourselves is due, though much to Jove.

“ Think not, young prince, your elevated state, “ Birth, honours, or the empty name of

great, “Can fix your joys: they're ill fecur'd, unless “ You know yourself to form your happiness, Which in the shepherd's humble hut is found, While palaces with discord still resound. “ Fortune to industry is ever kind, “ And, though by the blind vulgar painted blind, “ Is still more equal than the crowd suppose, “ Who judge of happiness by outward shows; “ She smiles on all conditions, each may be A man of pleasure in his own degree.

" Yet few with art their happiness pursue,

Though all mankind have happiness in view, " And every sense seems made by nature's kill "For giving pleasure and avoiding ill.

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