From that infatiable abyss,
Where flames devour, and ferpents hifs,
Promote me to thy feat of blifs.
XVII.
Proftrate my contrite heart I rend,
My God, my Father, and my Friend;
Do not forfake me in my end.
Well may they curfe their second breath,
Who rife to a reviving death;
Thou great Creator of Mankind,
Let guilty man compaffion find!
Tranflated by Mrs. CATH. PHILIPS, From the French of Monfieur CORNEILLE,
And acted at the Theatre in Dublin.
'HE mighty rivals, whofe deftructive
Did the whole world in civil arms engage,
Are now agreed; and make it both their choice,
To have their fates determin'd by your voice.
Cæfar from none but you will have his doom,
He hates th' obfequious flatteries of Rome :
He fcorns, where once he rul'd, now to be try'd,
And he hath rul'd in all the world befide.
When he the Thames, the Danube, and the Nile, Had ftain'd with blood, Peace flourish'd in this isle ; And you alone may boast, you never faw
Cæfar till now, and now can give him law.
Great Pompey too, comes as a fuppliant here,
But fays he cannot now begin to fear :
He knows your equal juftice, and (to tell
A Roman truth) he knows himself too well.
Succefs, 'tis true, waited on Cæfar's fide,
But Pompey thinks he conquer'd when he died.
His fortune, when she prov'd the most unkind,
Chang'd his condition, but not Cato's mind.
Then of what doubt can Pompey's caufe admit,
Since here fo many Cato's judging fit.
But you, bright nymphs, give Cæfar leave to woo,
The greatest wonder of the world, but you;
And hear a Mufe, who has that hero taught
To speak as generously as e'er he fought;
Whofe eloquence from fuch a theme deters
All tongues but English, and all pens but hers.
By the juft Fates your fex is doubly bleft,
You conquer'd Cæfar, and you praise him best.
And you (* illustrious Sir) receive as due,
A prefent destiny preferv'd for you.
Rome, France, and England, join their forces here, To make a poem worthy of your ear.
Accept it then, and on that Pompey's brow,
Who gave fo many crowns, beftow one now.
Thus in the arms of love and peace they lie,
And while they live, their flames can never die.
O the pale tyrant, who to horrid graves
Condemns fo many thousand helpless flaves,
Ungrateful we do gentle fleep compare,
Who, though his victories as numerous are,
Yet from his flaves no tribute does he take,
But woeful cares that load men while they wake.
When his foft charms had eas'd my weary fight
Of all the baleful troubles of the light,
Dorinda came, divefted of the scorn
Which the unequal'd maid fo long had worn;
How oft, in vain, had Love's great God effay'd
To tame the stubborn heart of that bright maid!
Yet, fpite of all the pride that swells her mind,
The humble God of Sleep can make her kind.
A rifing blufh increas'd the native ftore
Of charms, that but too fatal were before.
Once more present the vifion to my view,
The fweet illufion, gentle Fate, renew!
How kind, how lovely fhe, how ravish'd I!
Shew me, bleft God of Sleep, and let me die.
OF THE OLD HOUSE OF COMMONS,
To the New One, appointed to meet at OXFORD.
'ROM deepest dungeons of eternal night,
The feats of horror, forrow, pains, and spite,
I have been sent to tell you, tender youth,
A feasonable and important truth.
I feel (but, oh! too late) that no disease
Is like a furfeit of luxurious eafe :
And of all others, the moft tempting things
Are too much wealth, and too indulgent kings.
None ever was fuperlatively ill,
But by degrees, with industry and skill:
And fome, whose meaning hath at first been fair,
Grow knaves by use, and rebels by despair.
My time is past, and yours will foon begin,
Keep the first bloffoms from the blast of fin;
And by the fate of my tmultuous ways,
Preferve yourselves, and bring ferener days.
The bufy, fubtle ferpents of the law,
Did firft my mind from true obedience draw:
While I did limits to the king prescribe,
And took for oracles that canting tribe,
I chang'd true freedom for the name of free,
And grew feditious for variety:
All that oppos'd me were to be accus'd,
And by the laws illegally abus'd;
The robe was fummon'd, Maynard in the head,
In legal murder none fo deeply read;
I brought him to the bar, where once he stood,
Stain'd with the (yet unexpiated) blood
Of the brave Strafford, when three kingdoms rung
With his accumulative hackney-tongue;
Prifoners and witneffes were waiting by,
Thefe had been taught to swear, and those to die, And to expect their arbitrary fates,
Some for ill faces, fome for good estates.
To fright the people, and alarm the town,
Bedloe and Oates employ'd the reverend gown.
But while the triple mitre bore the blame,
The king's three crowns were their rebellious aim:
I feem'd (and did but feem) to fear the guards,
And took for mine the Bethels and the Wards:
Anti-monarchic Heretics of state,
Immoral Atheists, rich and reprobate :
But above all I got a little guide,
Who every ford of villainy had try'd :
None knew fo well the old pernicious way,
To ruin fubjects, and make kings obey;
And my finall Jehu, at a furious rate,
Was driving Eighty back to Forty-eight.
This the king knew, and was refolv'd to bear,
But I mistook his patience for his fear.
All that this happy island could afford,
Was facrific'd to my voluptuous board.
his whole paradise, one only tree
ad excepted by a strict decree ;
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