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Slight not, in fupercilious ftrain,
Long practis'd modes as low or vain!
The world will vindicate their cause,
And claim blind faith in Custom's laws.
Safer with multitudes to stray,
Than tread, alone, a fairer way:
To mingle with the erring throng,
Than boldly fpeak ten millions wrong.
Beware of the relentless train

Whom forms adore, whom forms maintain !
Left prudes demure, or coxcombs loud,
Accufe thee to the partial crowd;
Foes who the laws of honor flight,
A judge who meafures guilt by fpite.
Behold the fage Aurelia stand,
Difgrace and fame at her command;
As if Heav'n's delegate defign'd
Sole arbiter of all her kind.
Whether the try fome favour'd piece,
By rules devis'd in ancient Greece;
Or whether, modern in her flight,
She tells what Paris thinks polite :
For, much her talents to advance,
She fudy'd Greece, and travell'd France;
There learn'd the happy art to please,
With all the charms of labour'd cate;
Thro' looks and neds with meaning fraught,
To teach what the was never taught.
By her each latent fpring is feen;
The workings foul of fecret fpleen;
The guilt that fkulks in fair pretence,
Or folly, veil'd in fpecious fenfe.
And much her righteous spirit grieves
When worthleffnefs the world deceives;
Whether the erring crowd commends
Some patriot fway'd by private ends;
Or hufband truft a faithlefs wife,
Secure in ignorance from ftrife.
Averte fhe brings their deeds to view,
But justice claims the rig'rous due
Humanely anxious to produce,
At leaft, fome poffible excufe.
O ne'er may virtue's dire difgrace
Prepare a triumph for the bafe !

Mere forms the fool implicit fway,
Which witlings with contempt furvey;
Blind folly no defect can fee

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Half wifdom views but one degree.
The wife remoter ufes reach,
Which judgment and experience teach.
Whoever would be pleas'd and pleafe,
Muft do what others do with ease.
Great precept undefin'd by rule,
And only learn'd in Cufrom's fchool;
To no peculiar form confin'd,
It fpreads thro' all the human kind;
Beauty, and wit, and worth fupplies,
Yet graceful in the good and wife.
Rich with this gift, and none befide,
In Fashion's ftream how many glide!
Secure from ev'ry mental woe,
From treach'rous friend or open for;
Front fo-ial fympathy, that fhares
The public lofs or private cares;

Whether the barb'rous foe invade,
Or Merit pine in Fortune's fhade.
Hence gentle Anna, ever gay,
The fame to-morrow as to-day,
Save where, perchance, when others weep,
Her check the decent forrow steep:
Save when, perhaps, a melting tale
O'er ev'ry tender breaft prevail.
The good, the bad, the great, the finall,
She likes, the loves, the honors all.
And yet, if fland'rous malice blame,
Patient the yields a fifter's fame;
A like if fatire or if praife,
She fays whate'er the circle fays;
Implicit does whate'er they do,
Without one point in wifh or view.
Sure teft of others, faithful glafs
Thro' which the various phantoms pass.
Wide blank, unfeeling when alone;
No care, no joy, no thought her own.

Not thus fucceeds the peerlefs dame
Who looks, and talks, and acts for fame;
Intent fo wide her cares extend,
To make the univerfe her friend.
Now with the gay, in frolics fhines;
Now reafons deep with deep divines;
With courtiers now extols the great;
With patriots fighs o'er Britain's fate;
Now breathes with zealots holy fires;
Now melts in lefs refin'd defires.
Doom'd to exceed in cach degree,
Too wife, too weak, too proud, too free;
Too various for one fingle word,
The high fublime of deep abfurd.
While ev'ry talent nature grants
Jutt ferves to fhew how much the wants.
Altho' in combine

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The lovely Thais by his fide
Sat, like a blooming eaftern bride,
In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride,
Happy, happy, happy pair;
None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave deferves the fair.

Timotheus plac'd on high

Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre :
The trembling notes afcend the sky,
And heav'nly joys infpire.

The fong began from Jove;
Who left his blifsful feats above,
Such is the pow'r of mighty love!

A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god :
Sublime on radiant fpheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia prefs'd,

And ftamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of the world.

The lift'ning crowd admire the lofty found;
A prefent deity, the vaulted roofs rebound.

With ravifh'd ears

The monarch hears, Affumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And feems to fhake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus then, the fweet musician fung:

Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young;
The jolly god, in triumph comes;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
Flush'd with a purple grace

He fhews his honeft face.

Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he
Bacchus, ever fair and young, [comes !
Drinking joys did first ordain:
Bacchus' bleffings are a treasure,
Drinking is the foldier's pleafure;
Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure;

Sweet is the pleasure after pain.

Sooth'd with the found, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again;

And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he flew the flain.

The mafter faw the madnefs rife; His glowing checks, his ardent eyes; And while he heav'n and earth defy'd, Chang'd his hand, and check'd his pride, He chofe a mournful mufe

Soft pity to infufe:

He fung Darius great and good,
By too fevere a fate,
Fall'n, fail'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fall'n from his high eftate,
And welt'ring in his blood;
Deferted at his utmost need,
By thofe his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth expos'd he lies,
With not a friend to close his eves.

With down-caft look the joy lefs victor fate,

Revolving in his alter'd soul'
The various turns of fate below;
And now and then a figh he ftole;
And tears began to flow.
The mighty mafter fmil'd, to fee
That love was in the next degree:
'Twas but a kindred found to move;
For pity melts the mind to love!

Softly fweet, in Lydian meafures,
Soon he footh'd his foul to pleasures.
War, he fung, is toil and trouble;
Honor but an empty bubble;

Never ending, ftill beginning,
Fighting ftill, and still deftroying:
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O, think it worth enjoying!
Lovely Thais fits befide thee,

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Take the good the gods provide thee. The many rend the fkies with loud applause; So love was crown'd, but mufic won the cause. The prince, unable to conceal his pain,

Gaz'd on the fair

Who caus'd his care,

And figh'd and look'd, figh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and fish'd again :
At length, with love and wine at once opprefs'd,
The vanquish'd victor funk upon her breast.
Now ftrike the golden lyre again;

And louder yet, and yet a louder train.
Break his bands of fleep afunder,

And roufe him like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark the horrid found

Has rais'd up his head;

As awak'd from the dead
And amaz'd, he stares around.

Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
See the furies arife,

See the fnakes that they rear,
How they hifs in the air,

And the fparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghaftly band,

Each a torch in his hand,

Thefe are Grecian ghofts, that in battle were

And unburied remain,

Inglorious on the plain; Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew:

[flain,

Behold how they tofs their torches on high,
How they point to the Perfian abodes,
And glitt'ring temples of their hoftile gods!
The princes applaud with a furious joy;
And the King feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to
Thais led the way
[destroy

To light him to his prey,

And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy.

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The fweet enthufiaft, from her facred ftore,

Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds,
And added length to founds,
With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown
Let old Timotheus yield the prize, before.
Or both divide the crown;
He rais'd a mortal to the skies;
She drew an angel down.

§ 113. An Epifile, from Mr. Phillips to the Earl of Dorfet. Copenhagen, March 9, 1709. FROM frozen climes, and endlefs tractsof fnow,

From ftreams that northern winds forbid to
flow,

What prefent fhall the Mufe to Dorfet bring,
Or how, fo near the Pole, attempt to fing?
The hoary winter here conceals from fight
All pleafing objects that to verfe ́invite.
The hills, and dales, and the delightful woods,
The flow ry plains, and filver-ftreaming floods,
By fnow difguis'd, in bright confufion lie,
And, with one dazzling wafte, fatigue the eye,
No gentle breathing breeze prepares the fpring,
No birds within the defart region fing.

The fhips, unmov'd, the boift'rous winds defy,
While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly.
The vaft Leviathan wants room to play,
And fpout his waters in the face of day.
The ftarving wolves along the main fea prowl,
And to the moon in icy vailies howl.
For many a fhining league the level main
Here fpreads itself into a glaily plain:
There folid billows, of enormous fize,
Alps of green ice, in wild diforder rife.
And yet but lately have I feen, e'en here,
The water in a lovely drefs appear.
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treafur'd fnow,
Or winds begun thro' hazy skies to blow,
At ev'ning a keen caftern breeze arofe;
And the defcending rain unfullied froze.
Soon as the filent shades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn difclos'd at once to view
The face of nature in a rich difguife,
And brighten'd every object to my eyes:
For ev'ry fhrub, and ev'ry blade of grats,
And ev'ry pointed thorn feem'd wrought in glafs,
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns fhow,
While thro' the ice the crimfon berries glow.
The thick-fprung reeds the wat'ry marthes yield,
Seem polifh'd lances in a hoftile field.
The ftag, in limpid currents, with furprize
Sees cryftal branches on his forehead rife.
The fpicading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine,
Glaz'd over, in the freezing æther shine.
The frighted birds the rattling branches fhun,
That wave and glitter in the diftant fun :
When, if a fudden guft of wind arife,
The brittle foreft into atoms Hies:
The crackling wood beneath the tempeft bends,
And in a fpangled thow'r the prospect ends;
Or if a fouthern gale the region warm,
And, by degrees, unbind the wint’ry charm,

The traveller a miry country fees,
And journies fad beneath the dropping trees.
Like fome deluded peafant Merlin leads
Thro' fragrant bow'rs, and thro' delicious meads;
While here enchanted gardens to him rife,
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes,
His wond'ring feet the magic paths purfue;
And, while he thinks the fair illufion true,
The tracklefs fcenes difperfe in fluid air,
And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways, appear!
A tedious road the weary wretch returns,
And, as he goes, the tranfient vision mourns.

AH

$114. The Man of Sorrow. GREVILLE,
H! what avails the length'ning mead,
By Nature's kindeft bounty fpread
Along the vale of flowers!
Ah! what avails the dark'ning grove,
Or Philomel's melodious love,

That glads the midnight hours!
Ne'er glitters on the hawthorn fpray,
From me (alas !) the god of day

Nor night her comfort brings:
I have no pleasure in the rofe;
For me no vernal beauty blows,
Nor Philomela fmgs.

See how the sturdy peafants ftride
Adown yon hillock's verdant fide,
In cheerful ignorance bleft;
Alike to them the rofe or thorn,
Alike arifes every morn,

By gay Contentment dreft.
Content, fair daughter of the fkies,
Or gives fpontaneous, or denies,

Her choice divinely free:
She vifits oft the hamlet cot,
When Want and Sorrow are the lot
Of Avarice and nie.

But fee or is it Fancy's dream?
Methought a bright celeftial gleam

Shot fudden thro' the groves;
Behold, behold, in loofe array,
Euphrofyne, more bright than day;

More mild than Paphian doves!
Welcome, O! welcome, Pleafure's queen!
And fee along the velvet green

The jocund train advance :
With fcatter'd flow'rs they fill the air.
The wood-nymph's dew-befpangled hair
Plays in the fportive dance.

Ah! baneful grant of angry Heaven,
When to the feeling wretch is given

A foul alive to joy!

Joys fly with ev'ry hour away,
And leave th'unguarded heart a prey
To cares, that peace deftroy.
And fee, with visionary hafte
(Too foon the gay delufion paft)

Reality

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I, who the tedious abfence of a day [fight;
Remov'd, would languifh for my charmer's
Would chide the ling'ring moments for delay,
And fondly blame the flow return of night;
How, how fhall I endure
(O mifery paft a cure!)
Hours, days, and years, fucceffively to roll,
Nor ever more behold the comfort of
foul?
my
Was she not all my fondest wish could frame ?
Did ever mind fo much of heav'n partake?
Did the not love me with the purest flame?
And give up friends and fortune for my fake?
Though mild as ev'ning skies,
With downcaft, ftreaming eyes,
Stood the ftern frown of fupercilious brows,
Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful to her

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Come then, fome Mufe, the faddeft of the train
(No more your bard thall dwell on idle lays)
Teach me each moving melancholy train,
And O difcard the pageantry of phrafe:
Ill fuit the flower of fpeech with woes like mine!
Thus, haply, as I paint

The fource of my complaint,
My foul may own th'impaffion'd line;
A flood of tears may guth to my relief, [of grief.
And from my fwelling heart difcharge this load
Forbear, my fond officious friends, forbear
To wound my ears with the fad tales you tell;
How good the was, how gentle, and how fair!”
In pity ceafe-alas! I know too well:

How in her fweet expreffive face

Beam'd forth the beauties of her mind, Yet heighten'd by exterior grace,

Of manners moft engaging, most refin'd.

No piteous object could the fee,

But her foft bofom fhar'd the woe,
While fmiles of affability

Endçar'd whatever boon the might bestow.
Whate'er th'emotions of her heart,
Still fhone confpicuous in her eyes,
Stranger to every female art,
Alike to feign or to difguife:

And O the boaft how rare!
The fecret in her faithful breaft repos'd,
She ne'er with lawless tongue difclos'd;

In fecret filence lodg'd inviolate there. Of feeble words-unable to exprefs Her matchlefs virtues, or my own distress! Relentless death! that, fteel'd to human woe,

With murd'rous hands deals havoc on manWhy (cruel!)ftrike this deprecated blow,[kind, And leave fuch wretched multitudes behind? Hark! Groans come wing'd on ev'ry breeze? The fons of grief prefer their ardent vow ; Opprefs'd with forrow, want, or dire disease,

And fupplicate thy aid, as I do now: In vain -Perverfe, ftill on the unweeting head 'Tis thine thy vengeful darts to shed; Hope's infant bloffoms to deftroy, And drench in tears the face of joy.

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But oh fell tyrant! yet expect the hour
When Virtue fhall renounce thy power;
When thou no more fhalt blot the face of day,
Nor mortals tremble at thy rigid fway.
Alas the day-where'er I turn my eyes,
Some fad memento of my lofs appears;
I fly the fatal houfe fupprefs my fighs,
Refolv'd to dry my unavailing tears:
But, ah in vain
-no change of time
The memory can efface [or place
Of all that sweetness, that enchanting air, [fpair.
Now loft; and nought remains but anguifh and de-
Where were the delegates of Heav'n, oh, where!
Appointed Virtue's children fafe to keep!
Had Innocence or Virtue been their care,
She had not dy'd, nor had I liv'd to weep:
Mov'd by my tears, and by her patience mov'd,
To fee her forte th'endearing fmile,
My forrows to beguile,
When Torture's keeneft rage the prov'd;
Sure they had warded that untimely dart,
Which broke her thread of life, and rent a huf
band's heart.

How fhall I e'er forget that dreadful hour,
When, feeling Death's refiftlefs pow'r,
My hand fhe prefs'd, wet with her falling tears,
And thus, in fault'ring accents, fpoke her fears:

Ah, my lov'd lord, the tranfient fcene is o'er, "And we muft part (alas!) to meet no more! "But oh! if e'er thy Emma's name was dear, "If e'er thy vows have charm'd my ravish'd "car; Gg3

6. If,

"If, from thy lov'd embrace my heart to gain, Proud friends have frown'd, and Fortune "fmil'd in vain;

"If it has been my fole endeavour ftill "To act in all, obfequious to thy will; "To watch thy very fmiles, thy with to know, "Then only truly bleft when thou wert fo; "If I have doated with that fond excefs, "Nor love could add, nor Fortune make it lefs; "If this I've done, and more-oh then be kind "To the dear lovely babe I leave behind. "When time my once lov'd mem'ry thall efface, "Some happier maid may take thy Emma's "place;

"With envious eyes thy partial fondness fee, "And hate it for the love thou bore to me— "My deareft Shaw, forgive a woman's fears; "But one word more (I cannot bear thy tears) "Promife - and I will truft thy faithful vow " (Oft have I try'd, and ever found thee true) "That to fome diftant spot thou wilt remove "This fatal pledge of hapless Emma's love, "Where fafe, thy blandithments it may partake

--

"And oh! be tender for its mother's fake. 4 Wilt thou?

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I, who with more than manly ftrength have bore
The various ills impos'd by cruel Fate,
Suftain the firmnefs of my foul no more,
But fink beneath the weight;
[day
Juft Heav'n! (I cry'd ) from Mem'ry's earlicft
No comfort has thy wretched fuppliant known;
Misfortune ftill, with unrelenting fway,

Has claim'd me for her own.
But O!-in pity to my grief, restore
This only fource of blifs; I afk, I ask no more-
Vain hopeth'irrevocable doom is past;
Ev'n now fhe looks. the fighs her last —
Vainly I ftrive to stay her flecting breath,[death.
And, with rebellious heart, protest against her
When the ftern tyrant clos'd her lovely eves,

How did I rave, untaught to bear the blow! With impious wish to tear her from the skies; How curfe my fate in bitternefs of woe! But whither would this dreadful frenzy lead: Fond man, forbear;

Thy fruitless forrow fpare; [creed;
Dare not to talk what Heav'n's high will de-
In humble rev'rence kils th'afflictive rod,
And proftrate bow to an offended God.
Perhaps kind Heaven in mercy dealt the blow,
Some faving truth thy roving foul to teach;
To wean thy heart from groveling views below,
And point out blifs beyond Misfortune's
reach :

To fhew that all the flatt'ring fchemes of joy,
Which tow'ring hope fo fondly builds in air,
One fatal moment can deftrov,.
And plunge th'exulting Maniac in despair.

Then O! with pious fortitude fuftain
Thy prefent lofs-haply thy future gain;
Nor let thy Emma die in vain;
Time fhall adminifter its wonted balm, [calm.
And hush this ftorm of grief to no unpleafing
Thus the poor bird, by fome disast'rous fate,

Caught and imprifon'd in a lonely cage,
Torn from its native fields, and dearer mate,
Flutters a while, and fpends its little rage:
But finding all its efforts weak and vain,
No more it pants and rages for the plain;
Moping a while, in fullen mood
Droops the fweet mourner→ but ere long
Prunes its light wings, and pecks its food,
And meditates the fong:

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Serenely forrowing, breathes its piteous cafe, And with its plaintive warblings faddens all the place. [flow, Forgive me, Heaven! -yet-yet the tears will To think how foon my fcene of blifs is past! My budding joys, juft promifing to blow, All nipt and wither'd by one envious blast! My hours, that laughing wont to fleet away,

Move heavily along; [jocund fong? Where's now the fprightly jeft, the Time creeps unconscious of delight: How shall I cheat the tedious day! And O-the joyless night! Where fhall I reft my weary

head?

How fhall I find repofe on a fad widow'd bed? Come, Theban drug †, the wretch's only aid, To my torn heart its former peace reftore: Thy votary, wrap'd in thy Lethean fhade,

Á while fhall ceafe his forrows to deplore:
Haply when lock'd in fleep's embrace,
Again I fhall behold my Emma's face;

Again with transport hear

Her voice oft whifpering in my ear; May fteal once more a balmy kifs, And tafte at least of vifionary blifs. But, ah! th'unwelcome morn's obtruding light Will all my fhadowy fchemes of blifs depofe; Will tear the dear illufion from my fight,

And wake me to the fenfe of all my woes!
If to the verdant fields I ftray,
Alas what pleasures now can these convey?
Her lovely form purfues where'er I go,

And darkens all the fcene with woe.
By Nature's lavish beauties cheer'd no more,
Sorrowing I rove

Through valley, grot, and grove; Nought can their beauties or my loss restore; No herb, no plant can med'cine my disease, And my fad fighs are borne on ev'rypaffing breeze. Sickness and forrow hov'ring round my bed,

Who now with anxious hafte fhall bring relief, With lenient hand fupport my drooping head, Awage my pains, and mitigate my grief? Should worldly bufinefs call away,

Who now thall in my abfence fondly mourn, Count ev'ry minute of the loit'ring day, Impatient for my quick return:

Laudanum.

Should

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