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You too proceed! make falling Arts your care,
Erect new wonders, and the old repair;
Jones and Palladio to themselves restore,
And be whate'er Vitruvius was before:
Till Kings call forth th' Ideas of your mind,
(Proud to accomplish what fuch hands defign'd)
Bid Harbours open, public Ways extend,
Bid Temples, worthier of the God, ascend;
Bid the broad Arch the dangerous flood contain,
The Mole projected break the roaring Main;
Back to his bounds their subject sea command,
And roll obedient Rivers through the Land;
Thefe Honours, Peace to Happy Britain brings,
Thefe are Imperial Works, and worthy Kings.







Occafioned by his Dialogues on MEDALS.

THIS was originally written in the year 1715, when Mr. Addison intended to publish his book of Medals; it was fome time before he was Secretary of State; but not published till Mr. Tickell's Edition of his works; at which time the verses on Mr. Craggs, which conclude the poem, were added, viz. in 1720.

As the third Epiftle treated of the extremes of Avarice and Profufion; and the fourth took up one particular branch of the latter, namely, the Vanity of Expence in people of wealth and quality, and was therefore a corollary to the third; fo this treats of one circumstance of that Vanity, as it appears in the common collectors of old coins: and is, therefore, a corollary to the fourth.

EE the wild Waste of all-devouring years!


How Rome her own fad fepulchre appears, With nodding arches broken temples spread! The very Tombs now vanish'd like their dead; Imperial wonders rais'd on Nations spoil'd, Where mix'd with Slaves the groaning Martyr toil'd: Huge Theatres, that now unpeopled Woods, Now drain'd a distant country of her Floods:



Fanes, which admiring Gods with pride furvey,
Statues of Men, fcarce lefs alive than they!
Some felt the filent ftroke of mouldering age,
Some hoftile fury, fome religious rage.
Barbarian blindness, Chriftian zeal confpire,
And Papal piety, and Gothic fire.

Perhaps, by its own ruins fav'd from flame.
Some bury'd marble half preferves a name;
That Name the Learn'd with fierce difputes purfue,
And give to Titus old Vefpafian's due.




Ambition figh'd: fhe found it vain to trust The faithlefs Column and the crumbling Buft: Huge moles, whofe fhadow ftretch'd from fhore to fhore, Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more! Convinc'd, the now contracts her vast design, And all her Triumphs fhrink into a Coin. A narrow orb each crouded conqueft keeps, Beneath her Palm here fad Judea weeps. Now fcantier limits the proud Arch confine, And fcarce are feen the proftrate Nile or Rhine; A fmall Euphrates through the piece is roll'd, And little Eagles wave their wings in gold.



The Medal, faithful to its charge of fame,

Through climes and ages bears each form and name: In one fhort view fubjected to our eye

Gods, Emperors, Heroes, Sages, Beauties, lie.

With fharpen'd fight pale Antiquaries pore,


Th' infcription value, but the ruft adore.
This the blue varnish, that the green endears,
The facred ruft of twice ten hundred years!




To gain Pefcennius one employs his Schemes,
One grafps a Cecrops in extatic dreams.


Poor Vadius, long with learned spleen devour'd,

Can tafte no pleasure fince his Shield was fcour'd:
And Curio, reftlefs by the Fair-one's fide,

Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride.

Their's is the Vanity, the Learning thine:
Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine:
Her Gods and godlike Heroes rise to view,
And all her faded garlands bloom anew.
Nor blush, thefe ftudies they regard engage;
Thefe pleas'd the fathers of poetic rage:
The verfe and sculpture bore an equal part,
And Art reflected images to Art.

Oh, when fhall Britain, confcious of her claim,
Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame?
In living medals fee her wars enroll'd,
And vanquish'd realms fupply recording gold?
Here, rifing bold, the Patriot's honest face;
There, Warriors frowning in historic brass:
Then future ages with delight shall see

How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks agree;
Or in fair feries laurel'd Bards be shown,





A Virgil there, and here an Addison.

Then fhall thy Craggs (and let me call him mine)
On the caft ore, another Pollio, fhine;

With afpect open shall erect his head,
And round the orb in lafting notes be read,
"Statesman, yet friend to Truth! of foul fincere,
"In action faithful, and in honour clear;



"Who broke no promife, ferved no private end,;
"Who gain'd no title, and who loft no friend;
"Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd,

"And prais'd, unenvy'd, by the Mufe he lov'd."


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