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To dart upon him in collected rays,

And new create him in a deadly blaze.

The god beholds the suppliant from afar, And flops the progrefs of his heav'nly car. "Othou," fays he, "whom harmless firesfhall burn, "Thy age the flame to fecond youth shall turn, "An infant's cradle is thy funeral urn!

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"Thou on whom Heav'n hasfix'dth' ambig'ousdoom To live by ruin and by death to bloom,

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"Thy life, thy strength, thy lovely form, renew,
"And with fresh beauties doubly charm the view!"
Thus fpeaking, 'midst the aromatick bed
A golden beam he toffes from his head;
Swift as defire the shining ruin flies,
And ftraight devours the willing facrifice,
Who haftes to perish in the fertile fire,
Sink into ftrength, and into life expire.

In flames the circling odours mount on high, 80 Perfume the air and glitter in the sky;

The moon and stars amaz'd retard their flight,

And Nature ftartles at the doubtful fight!

For whilst the pregnant urn with fury glows
The goddess labours with a mother's throes,
Yet joys to cherish in the friendly flames
The nobleft product of the skill fhe claims.

Th' enliv'ning duft its head begins to rear,
And on the afhes fprouting plumes appear;
In the dead Bird reviving vigour reigns,
And life returning revels in his veins;

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A new born Phenix starting from the flame
Obtains at once a fon's and father's name,
And the great change of double life displays
In the fhort moment of one tranfient blaze!

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On his new pinions to the Nile he bends,
And to the gods his parent urn commends,
To Egypt bearing with majestick pride
The balmy neft where first he liv'd and dy'd.
Birds of all kinds admire th' unusual fight,
And grace the triumph of his infant flight;
In crowds unnumber'd round their chief they fly,
Opprefs the air and cloud the spacious sky;
Nor dares the fierceft of the winged race
Obítruct his journey thro' th' ethereal space;
The hawk and eagle useless wars forbear,
Forego their courage and confent to fear;
The feather'd nations humble homage bring,
And blefs the gaudy flight of their ambrofial king!
Lefs glitt'ring pomp does Parthia's monarch yield
Commanding legions to the dusty field,

Tho' fparkling jewels on his helm abound,
And royal gold his awful head furround,
Tho' rich embroid'ry paint his purple vest,
And his fteed bound in coftly trappings drest,
Pleas'd in the battle's dreadful van to ride
In graceful grandeur and imperial pride.
Fam'd for the worship of the Sun there stands

A facred fane in Egypt's fruitful lands,

τός

III

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Hewn from the Theban mountain's rocky womb,
An hundred columns rear the marble dome;
Hither it is faid he brings the precious load,
A grateful off'ring to the beamy god,
Upon whofe altar's confecrated blaze
The feeds and relicks of himself he lays,

Whence flaming incense makes the temple shine,
And the glad altars breathe perfumes divine;
The wafted fmell to far Pelufium flies

To cheer old ocean and enrich the skies,

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With nectar's fweets to make the nations fmile, 130
And scent the fevenfold channels of the Nile.
Thrice happy Phenix! Heav'n's peculiar care
Has made thyself thyfelf's furviving heir;
By death thy deathlefs vigour is fupply'd,
Which finks to ruin all the world befide:
Thy age not thee affifting Phoebus burns,
And vital flames light up thy fun'ral urns:
Whate'er events have been thy eyes furvey,
And thou art fixt while ages roll away:

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Thou faw'ft when raging Ocean burfl his bed, 140
O'ertopp'd the mountains and the earth o'erspread;
When the rafh youth inflam'd the high abodes,
Scorch'd up the fkies and scar'd the deathless gods.
When Nature ceases thou foalt still remain,
Nor fecond Chaos bound thy endless reign;
Fate's tyrant laws thy happier lot shall brave,
Baffle deftruction and elude the grave.

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KENSINGTON GARDEN.

-Campos, ubi Troja fuit."

VIRG.

WHERE Kenfington high o'er the neighb'ring lands 'Midft greens and fweets, a regal fabrick ! stands, And fees each spring luxuriant in her bow'rs,

A fnow of bloffoms and a wild of flow'rs,
The dames of Britain oft' in clouds repair
To gravel walks and unpolluted air:

Here while the Town in damps and darkness lies
They breathe in funshine and fee azure skies;
Each walk with robes of various dies befpread
Seems from afar a moving tulip bed,
Where rich brocades and gloffy damaíks glow,
And chints, the rival of the show'ry bow.

Here England's daughter, darling of the land! Sometimes furrounded with her virgin band Gleams thro' the fhades; fhe tow'ring o'er the rest Stands faire of the fairer kind confeft,

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Form'd to gain hearts that Brunswick's caufe deny'd, And charm a people to her father's fide.

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Long have thefe Groves to royal guests been known, Nor Naffau first preferr'd them to a throne. Ere Norman banners wav'd in British air, Ere lordly Hubba with the golden hair

E j

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Pour'd in his Danes, ere elder Julius came,
Or Dardan Brutus gave our ifle a name,
A prince of Albion's lineage grac'd the wood,
The fcene of wars, and ftain'd with lovers' blood.
You who thro' gazing crowds your captive throng
Throw pangs and paffions as you move along,
Turn on the left, ye Fair! your radiant eyes,
Where all unlevell'd the gay Garden lies.
If gen'rous anguish for another's pains

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Ere heav'd your hearts or shiver'd thro' your veins, Look down attentive on the pleasing Dale,

And listen to my melancholy tale.

That hollow space where now in living rows
Line above line the yew's fad verdure grows
Was ere the planter's hand its beauty gave
A common pit, a rude unfashion'd cave.
The landscape now so sweet we well may praise,
But far far fweeter in its ancient days,

Far fweeter was it when its peopled ground

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With Fairy domes and dazzling tow'rs was crown'd!
Where in the midft thofe verdant pillars fpring
Rofe the proud palace of the Elfin king;

For every hedge of vegetable green

In happier years a crowded street was seen;
Nor all thofe leaves that now the profpect grace
Could match the numbers of its pigmy race.
What urg'd this mighty empire to its fate,
A tale of wo and wonder, I rclate.

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