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E shades, where sacred truth is fought ;

Groves, where immortal Sages taught :
Where heav'nly visions Plato fir'd,
And Epicurus lay inspir'd !
In vain your guiltless laurels stood

Unspotted long with human blood.
War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,
And steel now glitters in the Muses shades.

Oh heav'n-born fifters ! source of art!
Who charm the sense, or mend the heart;
Who lead fair Virtue's train along,
Moral Truth, and mystic Song !

То * Altered from Shakespear by the Duke of Buckingham, at whose desire these two Chorus's were composed to supply as many, wanting in his play. They were fet many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham - house, P.

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To what new clime, what distant sky,

Forsaken, friendless, shall ye Ay? .
Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore?
Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?

When Athens finks by fates unjust,
When wild Barbarians fpurn her duft ;
Perhaps ev'n Britain's utmost shore
Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore,
See Arts her savage fons controul,

And Athens rising near the pole !
'Till some new Tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And civil madness tears them from the land.



Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball ?
Freedom and Arts together fall;
Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are slaves.
Oh curs’d effects of civil hate,

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!
Still, when the luft of tyrant power succeeds,
Some Athens perishes, some Tully bleeds.




CHORUS of Youths and Virgins.


H.Tyrant Love ! haft thou poffest

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breaft?
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
And Arts but soften us to feel thy flame:
Love, soft intruder, enters here,

But entring learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
And Brutus tenderly reproves.
Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire,
Which Nature has imprest?

Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire
The mild and gen'rous breast?

C H O R U S.
Love's purer Aames the Gods approve;
The Gods and Brutus bend to love :
Brutus for absent Portia sighs,

05 And ferner Caffius melts at sunia's eyes.

What is loose love? a tranfient gust,
Spent in a sudden storm of luft,
A vapour fed from wild defire,
A wand'ring, self-consuming fire.

20 But Hymen's kinder flames unite;

And burn for ever one ;
Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light,

Productive as the Sun.
Ver. 9. Why, Virtue, etc.) In allusion to that famous
conceit of Guarini,
Se il peccare è sì dolce, etc.


SEMICHORUS. Ob fource of ev'ry social tye,

25 United with, and mutual joy !

What various joys on one attend,
As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend?

Whether his hoary fire he spies,
While thousand grateful thoughts arise; 30
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye;
Or views his smiling progeny ;
What tender pashons take their turns

What home-felt raptures move?
His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
With rev'rence, hope, and love.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, surmizes,
Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes ;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine:
Pureft love's unwasting treasure,
Constant faith, fair hope, long leifure,
Days of ease, and nights of pleafure;

Sacred Hymen ! these are thine.




Ó O D E on



Few paternal acres bound,

APPY the man, whose with and care

A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,

6 Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire. Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years flide soft away, 10 In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; study and ease,

Together mixt; sweet recreation; And innocence, which most does please 15

With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone

Tell where I lie.

• This was a very early production of our Author, written at about twelve years old. P.




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