"The relicks of a lofty mind, "That lately wars and crowns defign'd, "The towering heights, and frightful falls, -He "That living could not bear to fee "Lie ftill, my Plutarch, then, and sleep, "And my good Seneca may keep "There "There the vile foot of every clown TE FREEDOM. 1697. EMPT me no more. My foul can ne'er comport I've an averfion to thofe charms, And hug dear liberty in both mine arms. Go, vaffal-fouls, go, cringe and wait, And dance attendance at Honorio's gate, Then run in troops before him to compose his ftate; Bend when he speaks; and kifs the ground: Wait till he fmiles: But lo, the idol frown'd Thus bafe-born minds: but as for Me, Like a strong mountain, or some stately tree, My foul grows firm upright, And as I ftand, and as I go, It keeps my body fo; creation-right. No, I can never part with my 7 I can I cannot make this iron knee Bend to a meaner power than that which form'd it free. Thus my bold harp profufely play'd Pindarical; then on a branchy shade I hung my harp aloft, myfelf beneath it laid. Nature that liften'd to my ftrain, Refum'd the theme, and acted it again. Sudden rose a whirling wind Swelling like Honorio proud, Around the straws and feathers crowd, Types of a flavish mind; Upwards the stormy forces rife, The duft flies up and climbs the skies, The meaner plants that grew around, The willow, and the afp, trembled and kiss'd the ground: Hard by there ftood the iron trunk Of an old oak, and all the ftorm defy'd; On On Mr. Loc KE'S Annotations upon feveral Parts of the New Teftament, left behind him at his Death. THUS reafon learns by flow degrees, What faith reveals; but still complains Of intellectual pains, -And darkness from the too exuberant light. Pour'd all at once on nature's eyes Reafon could scarce fuftain to fee Scarce could her pride defcend to own Faith, thou bright cherub, fpeak, and fay Coft thee more toil, or larger grace, To melt and bend it to obey. 'Twas hard to make so rich a soul submit, And lay her fhining honours at thy fovereign feet. Sifter of faith, fair charity, Shew me the wondrous man on high, Tell how he fees the Godhead Three in One; His noblest powers in deep proftration lie At the mysterious throne. "Forgive, he cries, ye faints below, "Of that unhappy book, "Where glimmering reafon with false luftre shines, TRUE RICHE S. I AM not concern'd to know What to-morrow fate will do: 'Tis enough that I can say, I've poffefs'd myself to-day : Glittering ftones, and golden things, Wealth and honours that have wings, Ever fluttering to be gone, I could never call my own: Riches |