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Confuls of mod'rate Pow'r in Calms were made;

When the Gauls came, one fole Dictator fway'd.
Patriots, in Peace, affert the Peoples Right;
With noble Stubbornness refifting Might:
No Lawless Mandates from the Court receive,
Nor lend by Force; but in a Body give.
Such was your gen❜rous Grandfire; free to grant
In Parliaments, that weigh'd their Prince's Want:
But fo tenacious of the Common Cause,
As not to lend the King against his Laws.
And, in a loathsom Dungeon doom'd to lie,
In Bonds retain❜d his Birthright Liberty,
And sham'd Oppreffion, till it fer him free.
O true Descendent of a Patriot Line,
[thine,
Who, while thou shar'st their Luftre, lend'st 'em
Vouchfafe this Picture of thy Soul to fee;

'Tis fo far Good, as it resembles thee:
The Beauties to th' Original I owe;

Which, when I mifs, my own Defects I fhow:
Nor think the Kindred-Muses thy Difgrace;
A Poet is not born in ev'ry Race.

}

Two of a House, few Ages can afford;
One to perform, another to record.
Praise-worthy Actions are by thee embrac'd;
And 'tis my Praise, to make thy Praises last.
For ev'n when Death diffolves our HumanFrame,
The Soul returns to Heav'n,from whence it came;
Earth keeps the Body, Verse preserves the Fame.

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CONNEXION to the former Story. Ovid, having told how Theseus had freed Athens

from the Tribute of Children, (which was impos’d on them by Minos King of Creta) by killing the Minotaur, here makes a Digression to the Story of Meleager and Atalanta, which is one of the most inartificial Connexions in all the Metamorphoses: For he only says, that Theseus obtain'd such Honour from that Combate, that all Greece had recour se to him in their Necessities ; and, amongst others, Calydon; though the Heroe of that Country, Prince Meleager, was then living.

E

ROM him, the Caledonians fought

Relief;

Though valiant Meleagrus was their

Chief.

The Cause, a Boar, who ravag'd far and near :
Of Cynthia's Wrath, th'avenging Minister.
For Oeneus with Autumnal Plenty blefs'd,
By Gifts to Heav'n his Gratitude exprefs'd:
Cull'd Sheafs, to Ceres; to Lyaus, Wine;
To Pan, and Pales, offer'd Sheep and Kine;
And Fat of Olives, to Minerva's Shrine.
Beginning from the Rural Gods, his Hand
Was lib'ral to the Pow'rs of high Command:
Each Deity in ev'ry Kind was bless'd,

Till at Diana's Fane th'invidious Honour ceas'd.
Wrath touches ev'n the Gods; the Queen of

Night

Fir'd with Difdain, and jealous of her Right,
Unhonour'd though I am, at least, faid fhe,
Not unreveng'd that impious Act shall be.
Swift as the Word, the sped the Boar away,
With Charge on thofe devoted Fields to prey.

No larger Bulls th' Egyptian Paftures feed,
And none fo large Sicilian Meadows breed:
His Eye-balls glare with Fire fuffus'd with Blood;
His Neck shoots up a thick-set thorny Wood;
His bristled Back a Trench impal'd appears,
And stands erected, like a Field of Spears.
Froth fills his Chaps, he fends a grunting Sound,
And part he churns, and part befoams the Ground.
For Tusks with Indian Elephants he strove,
And Jove's own Thunder from his Mouth he drove.
He burns the Leaves; the fcorching Blast invades
The tender Corn, and fhrivels up the Blades:
Or fuff'ring not their yellow Beards to rear,
He tramples down the Spikes, and intercepts the
Year.

In vain the Barns expect their promis'd Load,
Nor Barns at home, nor Reeks are heap'd abroad:
In vain the Hinds the Threshing-Floor prepare,
And exercise their Flails in empty Air.

With Olives ever-green the Ground is strow'd,
And Grapes ungather'd shed their gen'rous Blood.
Amid the Fold he rages, nor the Sheep
[keep.
Their Shepherds, nor the Grooms their Bulls can

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