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To the loud deeps he bears his charming spouse, But half unsheath'd his sword, and grip'd his Freed from her lord, and from her former vows.

shield, On their foft wings the whispering zephyrs play, When he amidst the scene himself beheld, [field. The breezes skim along the dimpled sea :

Thundering on Simois' banks, or batting in the. The wanton loves direct the gentle gales, Sport in the shrowds, and flutter in the fails. While her ewin-brothers with a gracious ray

PART OF THE SECOND BOOK OF STAPoint out her course al ng the watery way.

Th' exalted strokes fo delicately shine,
All so conspire to push the bold design ;

Now Jove's command fulfill'd, the son of May That in each sprightly feature we may find Quits the black shades, and lowly mounts to day, The great ideas of the master's mind,

For lazy clouds in giooniy barriers rise, As the Atrong colours faithfully unite,

Obstruét the god, and intercept the skies; Mellow to sbade, and riped into light.

No zephyrs here their airy pinions move, Let others form with care the ruddy mals, To speed his progress to the realms above. And torture into life the running brass,

Scarce can he steer his dark laborious fight, With potent are the breathing statue mould; Lost and encumber'd in the damps of night : Shape and inspire the aniniated gold;

There roaring tidęs of fire his course withstood, Let others sense to Parian marbles give,

Here Styx in nine wide circles rollid his flood. Bid the rocks leap to form, and learn to live Behind old Laius trod th' infernal ground, Seill be it chine, o Thoro hill, to unite

Trembling with age, and tardy from his wound; The pleasing discord of the shade and light; (For all his force his furious fon apply'd, To vanquish nature in the generous atrise,

And plung'd the guilty faulchion in his fide.) And touch the glowing features into life.

Propt and supported by the healing rod, But, Thornhill, would thy noble soul impart The Thade pursued the footsteps of the god. One lasting instance of thy godlike art

The groves that never bloom; the Stygian coasts, To future times; and in thy fame engage

The house of woe; the mansions of the ghosts. The praise of this and every distant age;

Earth too admires to see the ground give way, To fretch that art as far as it can go,

And gild hell's horrors with the gleams of day. Draw the triuniphant chief, and vanquish'd foe : But not with life repining envy fled, In his own dome, amidst the spacious walls, She still reigns there, and lives among the dead. Draw the deep squadrons of the routed Gauls; One from this crowd exclaim'd (whole lawless will Their ravith'd banners, and theit arins refign'd, Inur'd to crimes, and exercis'd in ill, While the brave hero thunders from behind; Taught his preposterous joys from pains to flow, Pours on their front, or hangs upon their rear; And never triumph'd, but in scenes of woe) Fighes, leads, commands, and animates the war. Go to thy province in the realms above, Let his strong courser champ his goiden chain, Callid by the furies or the will of Jove : And proudly paw th' imaginary plain.

Or drawn by magic force or mystic fpell, To Aghrim's bloody wreatlıs let Cressi yield, Rise, and purge off the footy gloom of hell. With the fair laurels of Ramilia's field.

Go, see the furi, and whiten in his beams, Next, on the sea the daring hero show,

Or haunt the flowery fields and limpid streams, To cheer his friends, and terrify th¢ foe.

Withi woes redoubled to return again, Lo! the great chief to familh'd thousands bears; When thy palt pleasures fhall enhance thy pain. The food of armies, and support of wars.

Now by the Stygian dog they bent their way ; The Britons rufh'd with native virtue fir'd, Stretch'd in his den the dreadful monster lay ; And quellid the foe, or gloriously expir'd; But lay not long, for, startling at the souod, Plunging through fames and floods, their valuúr Head above head he rises from the ground. broke

From their close folds his starting serpents break; O'er the rang'd cannon; and a night of smoke, And curl in horrid circles round his neck. Through the wedg’d legions urg'd their noble coil; This saw the god, and, stretching forth his hand, To spend their thunder on the towers of Lifle ; Lull'd the grim monster with his potent wand; While by his deeds their courage he inspires, Through his vast bulk the gliding flumbers creep, And wakes in every breast the leeping fires. And feal down all his glaring eyes in Aeep. Thus the whole series of his labours join,

There lies a place in Greece well known to fame, Stretch'd from the Belgic ocean to the Boyne. Through all her realms, and Tænarus the name,

Then glorious in retreat the chicf may read Where from the sea the tops of Malea rise,
Th’immortal actions of the noble dead;

Beyond the ken of mortals, to the skies:
And in recording colours, with delight,

Proud in his height he calmly hears below Review his conquests, and enjoy the fight; The diftant winds in hollow murmurs blow. See his own deeds on each ennobled plain; Here flecp the forms when weary'd and oppref, While fancy acts his trtumphs o'er again.

And on his head the drowsy planets rest : Thus on the Tyrian walls Æneas read, There in blue mists his rocky fides he shrouds, How ftern Achilles rag'd, and Hector bled; And here the towering mountain props the clouds;

Above his awful brow no bird can fly, * Caftor and Polluto

And far beneath the muttering thunders die.

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When down the steep of heaven the day descends, Then scenes of horror are their dear delighe,
The fun so wide his floating bound extends, They whirl the goblets, and provoke the figke:
'That o'er the deeps the mountain hangs display'd, Then on the lain the revel is renew'd
And covers hali che ocean with his fhade :

And all the horrid banquet floats in blood.
Where the Tænarian shores oppose the sea

And now the winged Hermes from on high The land retreats, and winds into a bay.

Shot in deep silence from the dusky sky : Here for repose inperial Neptune leads,

Then hover'd o'er the Theban tyrane's head, Tir d from th’ Ægian floods, his smoking steeds; As ftretch'd at ease he prelt his gorgeous bed: With their broad hoofs they scoop the beach away, Where labour'd tapestry from fide to lide, Their finny train rolls back, and floats along the Glow'd with rich figures, and Allyrian pride. fea,

Oh! the precarious terms of human ftare! Here fame reports th' unbody'd shades to go How blind is man! how thoughtless of his fate * 'i hrough this wide passage to the realms below. See! through his limbs the dews of lumber creen, From hence the peasants (as th' Arcadians tell) Sunk as he lies, in luxury and sleep. Hear all the cries, and groans, and din of hell. The reverend inade commillion d from above, Oft, as her scourge of snakes the fury plics, Hastes to fulfil the high beheite of Jove : The piercing echoes mount the diftant skies; Like blind Tiresias to the bed he came, Scar'd at the porter's triple roar, the swains In form, in habit, and in voice the same. Have fled astonith'd, and forsook the plains. Pale, as before, the phantom ftill appear'd,

From hence emergent in a mantling cloud Down his wan boroni flow'd a leogth of beard; Sprung to his native skies the winged god. His head an imitated fillet wore, Swift from his face before th' ethereal ray, His hand a wreath of peaceful olive bore : Hew all the black Tartarian Nains away,

With this he touch'd the deeping monarch's breaft, And the dark stygian gloom refind to day. ŠAnd in his own, the voice of face exprelt. O'er towns and realms he held his progress on, Then cand thou sleep, to thoughtless re& reNow wirg'd the skies where bright ArAurus

fignid? Thone,

And drive thy brother's image from chy mind? And now the silent empire of the moon.

Yon gathering form demands thy timely care, The power of ilerp, who met his radiant flight, See how it rolls this way the tide of war. Aud drove the folemn chariot of the night, When o'er the seas the sweeping whirlwinds is, Rose with respect, and from th' empyrcal road Ard roar from every quarter of the sky; Turn'd his palc tleeds, in reverence to the god. The pilot, in despair the ship to save, The Made beneath pursues his course, and spics Gives up the helni, a sport to every wave: The well-known planets, and congenial skies. Such is thy error, and thy fate the same His eyes from far, tall Cyrrha's heights explore, (For know, I speak the common voice of fame), And Phocian fields polluted with his gore. Proud in his new alliances, from far Arlength to Thebes he came, and with a groan Against thy realm he meditates the war ; Survey'd the guilty palace once his own;

Big with ambitious hopes to reign alone,
With awful filence fialk'd before the gate,

And swell unrival'd on the Theban throne.
But when te faw the trophies of his fate, New signs and fatal prodigies inspire
High on a column rais'd against the door,

His mad ambition, with kis boasted fire;
And his rich chariot still deform'd with gore, And Argos' ampie realms in dower bestow'd,
He farts with horror back; ev'n Jove's com- And Tydeus recking from his brother's blood,

League and conspire to raise him to the throne, Could scarce controul him, nor the vital wand. And make his tedious banishment thy own.

'Twas now the folemn day; when Jove, array'd for this, with picy touch'd, almighty Jove, In all his thunders, grasp'd the 'Theban maid: The fire of gods, dispatch'd me from above. Then tooß from blasted Semele her load,

Be fill a monarch ; let him twell in vain And in tinfelt conceiv'd the future god.

With a gay prospect of a fancy'd reigo : For this the Thebans revel'd in delight,

Still let him hope by fraud, or by the sword, And gave to play and luxury the night;

To humble Thebes beneath a foreign lord. A national debauch! confus'd they lie

Thus the majestic gholt; but e'er he fied, Stretch'd o'er the fields, their canopy the sky. He pluck'd the wreaths and fillets from his head. The sprightly trumpets found, the timbrels play, For now the fickening Itars were chas'd away, And wake with sacred harmony the day.

And heaven's immortal coursers breath'd the The matron's trcast the gracious power inspires

day, With milder saplures, and with softer fires. Awful to light content the grandire tood. So the Biltonian race, a ma lding train,

Bared his wide wound, and all his bofom how'd, Exult and revel on the Thracian plain;

Then dash'd the sleeping monarch with his blood. With milk their bloody banquers they allay, With a distraded air, and sudden spring, Or from the lion rend his panting prey :

Starts from his broken Beep the trembling king, On some abandon'd favage fiercely fly,

Shakes off amaz'd th' imaginary gore, Scize, tear, devour, and think it luxury.

While fancy paints the scene he saw before : Buc is the rising sumes of wine conspire

Deep in his soul his grandire's image' wrought To warm their rage, and fan the brutal fire, And all his brother role in every thoughing

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So while the toils are spread, and from behind I'll raise my voice to tell mankind
The hunter's shouts come chickening in the wind; The victor's conquest o'er his doom,
The tiger Parts from sleep the war to wage, How in the grave he lay confin’d,
Collects his powers, and rouses all his rage :

To seal more sure the ravenous tomb.
Sternly he grinds his fangs, he weighs his might, Three days th' infernal empire to subdue,
And whets his dreadsul talents for the fight; He pals'd triumphant through the coatts of woc;
Then to his young he bears his foe away,

With his own dart the tyrant death he New, His foe at once the chaser and the prey,

And led hell captive through her realms below. Thus on his brother he in every thought,

A mingled sound from Calvary I hear, W'aged future wars, and battles yet unfought.

And the loud cumults thicken on my ear,

The shouts of murderers that insult the slain, ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GENTLE The voice of torment and the Mrieks of pain. MAN.

I cast my eyes with horror up

To the curít mountain's guilty top; WITH joy, blest youth, we saw thee reach the goal;

See there! whom hanging in the midt I view :

Ah! how unlike the other two!
Fair was thy frame, and beautiful thy soul;
The graces and the muses came combind,

I see him high above his focs,
These to adorn the body, those the mind;

And gently bending to the wood 'Twas there we saw the softest manners nieet,

His head in pity down to those, Truth, sweetnesa, judgment, innocence, and wit.

Whose guilt conspires to shed his blood. So form’d, he flew his race ; 'twas quickly won,

His wide-extended arms I see, 'Twas but a step, and finish'd when begun.

Transéis d with nails, and fastend to the tree. Nature her self surpris'd would add no more,

Man! senseless man! capft thou louk on? His life complete in all its parts before ;

Nor make thy Saviour's pains thy own. But his few years with pleafing wonder told,

The rage of all thy pain exert,
By virtues, not by days; and thought him old. Rend thy garments and thy heart :
So far beyond his age those virtues ran,

Beat thy breast, and grovel low,
That in a boy she found him more than man.

Beneath the burden of thy woe; For years let wretches importune the skies,

Bieed through thy bowels, tear thy hairs, Till, at the long expence of anguilh wise,

Breathe gales of sighs, and weep a flood of tears. They live, to count their days by:iniseries. Those win the prize, who soonest run the race,

Behold thy King with purple cover'd round, And life burns brightest in the shortet space.

Not in the Tyrian tincture dy'd, So to the convex glass embody'd run,

Nor dipt in poison of Sidonian pride, Drawn to a point the glories of the fun;

But in his own rich blood that Itreams from evc. At once the gathering beams intensely glow,

ry wound. And through the streighter,'d circle fiercely flow :

Doft thou not see the thorny circle red? In one strong flame conspire the blended rays,

The guilty wreathe that blushes round his head ? Run to a fire, and crowd into a blaze.

And with what rage the bloody scourge apply'd,

Curls round his linibs, and ploughs into his lide?

At such a fight let all thy anguish rise,
From a Greek Ode of Mr. Martin's, formerly of

Break up, break up the lountains of thy eyes.
Nero Cellege.

Here bid thy tears in gushing torrents flow,
Indulge thy grief, and give a loose to woe.

Weep from thy soul, vill earth be drown'd,

Weep, till thy sorrows drench the ground. No more of earthly subje&s sing,

Can't thou, ungrateful man! his torment see, To heaven, my muse, aspire ; To raise the song, charge every string,

Nor drop a tear for him, who pours his blood for

thee? And Prike the living lyre. Begin; in lofty numbers show

Th’ Eternal King's unfathom'd love,

Who reigns the sov'reign God abo; e,
And suffers on the cross below.

RETURN, auspicious princc, again,
Prodigious pile of wonders ! rais’d too high Nor let Britannia mourn in vain ;
For the dim ken of frail mortality.

Too long, too long, has she deplor'd
What numbers shall I bring along!

Her absent father and her lord.
From whence shall I begio the song ?

To bend her gracious monarch's mind,
The mighty mystery I'll fing inspir'd

She sends her whs in every wind :
Beyond the reach of human wisdom wrought,

Can Britain's prayer be thrown alide ?
Beyond the compass of an angel's thought,
How by the rage of man his God expir d.

And that the firli he e'er deny'd !
I'll make the trackless depths of micrcy known, Yet, mighty prince, vouchsafe to smiles,
How to redeem his foe God render'd up his Son; Return and blefs our longing ifle;

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Though fond Gerniania begs thy stay,

Whoring till now a common trade has beca, And courts thee from our eyes away.

But malquerades refine upon the lin :

An higher taste to wickedness impart, Though Belgia would our king detain,

And second nature with the helps of art. We know the begs and pleads in vain,

New ways and mcans to pleasures we devise, We know our gracious king prefers

Since pleasure looks the lovelier in disguise. Britannia's happiness to her's.

The stealth and frolic give a smarter guit, And lo! to save us from despair,

Add wit to vice, and eloquence to lust. At length he listens to our prayer.

In vain the modish evil to redress, Dejected Albion's vows he hears,

At once conspire the pulpit and the press : And haftes to dry her falling tears.

Our priests and poets preach and write in vain ;

All satyr's loft both sacred and profane. He hears his anxious people pray,

So many various changes to impart, And loudly call their king away,

Would tire an Ovid or a Proteus' art; Once more their longing eyes to bless,

Where lost in onc promiscuous whim we see, And guard their freedom and their peace.

Sex, age, condition, quality, degree. They know, while Brunswick fills the throne,

Where the facetious crowd themselves lay down, The seasons glide with pleasure on;

And take up every person but their own. The British suns improve their rays,

Fools, dukes, rakes, cardinals, fops, Indian quecos, Adorn, and beautify the days.

Belles in tie-wigs, and lords in harlequins ;

Troops of right honourable porters come, But see the royal vessel flies,

And garter'd small-coal-merchants crowd the room: Leffening to Belgia's weeping eyes;

Valets adorn'd with coronets appear,
She proudly sails for Albion's shores,

Lacqueys of state, and footmen with a star :
Guard her, ye gods, with all your powers. Sailors of quality with judges mis,
O sea, bid cvery wave subside,

And chimney-sweepers drive their coach and fit, And teach allegiance to thy tide;

Statesmer. so us'd at court the mask to wear, Thy billows in subjcction keep,

With less disguise assume che vizor here. And own the the monarch of deep.

Officious Heydegger deceives our eyes,

For his own person is his best disguise : Old Thames can scarce his joy sustain,

And half the reigning toasts of equal grace, But runs down headlong to the main,

Trust to the natural vizor of the face. His mighty master to descry,

Ideots turn conjurers; and courtiers clowns; And leaves his spacious channel dry.

And sultans drop their handkerchiefs to nuns. Augufta's sons from either hand

Starch'd quakers glare in furbelows and silk; Pour forth, and darken all the trand;

Beaux deal in sprats, and duchesses cry miik. Their eyes pursue the royal barge,

But guard thy fancy, muse, nor stain thy pea Which now resigns her sacred charge,

With the lewd joys of this fantastic scene;

Where sexes blend in one confus'd intrigue, Th' unruly transport shakes the shore,

Where the girls ravish, and the men grow big : 'Aad drowns the feeble cannon's roar


Nor credit what the idle world has said, The nations in the fight rejoice,

Of lawyers forc'd, and judges brought to bed : And send their souls in every voice.

Or that to belles their brothers breathe their vows, But now amidst the loud applause,

Or husbands through mistake gallant a spouse. With shame the conscious muse withdraws,

Such dire disasters, and a numerous throng Nor can her voice be heard amidst the throng,

Of like enormities, require the song :
The theme so lofty, and so low the song.

But the chalte muse, with blushes cover'd o'er,
Retires confus'd, and will reveal no more.




" Si Natura negant, facit indignatio versum.".
WELL-We have reach'd the precipice at last;
The present age of vice obscures the past.
Our dull forefathers were content to stay,
Nor finn'd, till nature pointed out the way :
No arts they practis'd to forestal delight,
But stopp'd to wait the calls of appetite.
Their top debauches were at best precise,
An unimprov'd fimplicity of vice.

But this blest age has found a fairer road,
And left the paths their ancestors had trod.
Nay, we could wear (our taste so very nice is)
Their old caft-fashions fooner than their viccs.

How arc deluded humankind

By empty shows betray'd ?
lo all their hopes and schemes they end

A nothing or a shade.
The prospects of a truncheon cast

A soldier on the wars;
Dismiss'd with shatter'd limbs at last,

Brats, poverty, and scars.
The fond philosopher for gain

Will leave unturn'd no stone;
But though they toil with endless paing

They never find their own.

By the same rock the chemists drown,

Your pen no partial prejudices (way, And find no friendly hold,

But truth decides, and virtue wins the day. But melt their ready specie down,

Through what gay fields and flowery scenes we In hopes of fancy'd gold.

pals, What is the mad proje&or's care?

Where fancy sports, and fiction leads the chase?

Where life, as through her various ads she tends, In hopes elate and swelling,

Like other comedies, in marriage ends. He builds his castles in the air,

What muse but yours so justly could lay Yet wants an house to dwell in.

Th’enibattled pasions marshall'd in array ? At court the poor dependants fail,

Bid the rang'd appetites in order move, And damn their fruitless toil,

Give luft a figure, and a shape to love? When complimented thence to jail,

To airy notions folid forms dispense, And ruin'd with a smile,

And make our thoughts the images of sense?

Discover all the rational machinc, (within ? How to philosophers will found

And show the movements, springe, and wheels So strange a truth display'd ?

But Hymen waves his torch, all discords ceale; 64 There's not a substance to be found,

All parley, drop their arms, and sue for peace. " But every where a shade."

Soon as the fignal flames, they quit che fight,

For all at first but differ d to unite.

From every pare the lines in order move,

And sweetly centre in the point of love.

Let blockheads to the musty schools repair, While Cælia's hands fy (wiftly o'er,

And poach for morals and the passions there, And Itrike this soft machine,

Where virtue, like a dwarf in giant's arms, Her touch awakes the springs, and life

Cumber'd with words, and moanacled in termis, Of harmony within.

Serves to amuse the philofophic foo'.

By method dry, and regularly dull., Sweetly they link into the strings,

Who sees thy lines fo visibly express The quivering strings rebound,

The foul herself in such a pleasing dress; Each stroke obsequiously obey,

May from thy labours be convinc'd and taught, And tremble into found.

How Spenser would have fung, and Plato thought. Oh! had you bleft the years of old; His lute had Ovid ftrung,

THE TWELFTHODE OF THE FIRST BOOK And dwelt on your's, the charming theme

OF HORACE, TRANSLATED, Of his immortal fong.

What man, what hero will you raise, Yours, with Arion's wondrous harp,

By the thrill pipe, or deeper lyre ? The bard had hung on high ;

What God, o Clio, will you praise, And on the new-born star bestow'd

And teach the echoes to admire ? The honours of the sky.

Amidst the shades of Helicon, The radiant spheres had ceas'd their tuncs,

Cold Humus' cops, or Pindus' head, And danc'd in silence on,

Whence the glad foreks halten'd down, Pleas'd the new harmony to hear,

And danc'd as cuneful Orpheus play'd. More heavenly than their own.

Taught by the muse, he stop'd the fall of old to raise one shade from hell,

Of rapid floods, and charm'd the wind; To Orpheus was it given:

The listening oaks obey'd the call, But every tune of your's calls down

And left their wondering hills behind. An angel from his heaven.

Whom should I first record, but Jove,

Whose sway extends o'er sea and land,

The king of meu and gods above,

Who holds the seasons in command ?

To rival Jove, thall none aspire,
The theme in other works, for every part,

None Thall to equal glory rise; Supplies materials to the builder's art :

Bue Pallas claims beneath her fire, To build from matter, is sublimely great,

The second honours of the skies."
But gods and poets only can create;

To thee, O Bacchus, great in war,
And such are you; their privilege you claim,
To show your wonders, but conceal your name.

To Dian will i strike the string,
Like fome establish'd king, without controul,

Of Phæbus wounding from afar, You take a general progress through the soul;

In numbers like his own I'll fing. Survey each part, examine every side,

The mufe Alcides shall resound; Where she's secure, and where unfortify'd.

The twins of Leda shall fucceed; In faithful lines her history declare,

This for the standing fight renown'd, And trace the causes of her civil war;

And that for managing the steed.

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