621

O Muse! relate, (for you can tell alone, Wits have short memories, and dunces none) Relate who first, who last, resign'd to rest; Whose heads she partly, whose completely bless'd; What charms could faction, what ambition lull, The venal quiet, and entrance the dull; [wrongTill drown'd was sense, and shame, and right, and O sing, and hush the nations with thy song!

In vain, in vain-the all-composing hour Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the pow'r. She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old! Before her, fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sickening stars fade off the' ethereal plain; As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand oppress'd, Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest; Thus at her felt approach, and secret might, Art after art goes ont, and all is night. See sculking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head! IMITATIONS.

621 Relate who first, who last, resign'd to rest :

637

Whose heads she partly, whose completely bless'd.] 'Quem telo primum, quem postremam aspera Virgo Dejicis aut quot humi, morientia corpora fundis. ?' VIRG.

637 As Argus' eyes, &c.]

Et quamvis sopor est oculorum parte receptus,
Parte tamen vigilat-

Vidit Cyllenius omnes

Succubuisse oculos,' &c.

OVID. Met. II.

Philosophy, that lean'd on Heaven before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.
Physic of metaphysic begs defence,
And metaphysic calls for aid on sense!
See mystery to mathematics fly!

In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave and die.
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor❜d;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall:
And universal darkness buries all.

INDEX

OF

PERSONS AND MATTERS

CELEBRATED IN

THIS POEM AND NOTES.

The Numerals show the Book-The Figures the Verse,

AMBROSE Philips, i. 105. | Banks, i. 146.

iii. 326.

Attila, iii. 92.

Alaric, iii. 91.

Alma Mater, iii. 338.
Annius, an antiquary, iv. 347.
Arnall, William, ii. 315.

Blackmore, Sir Richard, i.104.
ii. 268.

Bezaleel, Morris, ii. 126. iii.

168.

Broome. ibid.
Bond, ii. 126.
Brown, iii. 28.
Bladen, iv. 560.
Budgel, Esq. ii. 397.
Bentley, Richard, iv. 201.
Bentley, Thomas, ii. 205.
Boyer, Abel, ii. 413.
Bland, a gazetteer, i. 231.
Breval, J. Durant, ii. 126. 238,
Benlowes, iii. 21.

Eusden, Laurence, Poet Lan-Motteux, Peter, ii. 412.

Philips, Ambrose, i. 105. iii. Taylor, John, the Water Poet,

Ridpath, George, i. 203. ii. Wynkyn de Worde, i. 149.

THE FOLLOWING

POEMS

WERE OMITTED IN THE FORMER EDITION.

TO THE AUTHOR

OF A PANEGYRIC ON MRS. GRACE BUTLER,
WHO DIED AGED 86.

The spirit of Mrs. Butler is supposed to speak. STRIPT to the naked soul, escap'd from clay, From doubts unfetter'd, and dissolv'd in day; Unarm'd by vanity; unreach'd by strife; And all my hopes and fears thrown off by life; Why am I charm'd by friendship's fond essays, And, though unbodied, conscious of thy praise? Has pride a portion in the parted soul? Does passion still the formless mind control? Can gratitude out-pant the silent breath? Or a friend's sorrow pierce the glooms of death? No, 'tis a spirit's nobler taste of bliss!

That feels the worth it left, in proofs like this; That not its own applause, but thine, approves ; Whose practice praises, and whose virtue loves! Who liv'st, to crown departed friends with fame! Then, dying late, shalt all thou gav'st reclaim.