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IO

Why, Virtue, doft thou blame desire,

Which Nature has imprest?
Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire
The mild and generous breast ?

CHORUS
Love's
purer

fames the Gods approve ;
The Gods and Brutus bend to Love :

Brutus for abfent Porcia sighs,
And sterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.

What is loose love ? a transient guft,
Spent in a sudden storm of luft,
A vapour fed from wild desire,
A wandering, felf-consuming fire.
But Hymen's kinder flames unite;

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

Productive as the Sun.

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20

SEMICHORUS.

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7

Oh source of every social tye,
United with, and mutual joy!

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

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

What home-felt raptures move !
His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,

With reverence; hope, and love.

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35

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

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Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes,

Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes ;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not line :
Purest love's unwasting treasure,
Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure ;
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure ;

Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

ODE ON SOLITUDE.

Written when the Author was about Twelve Years old.

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r

APPY the man, whose with and care H

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 fupply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

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

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

Quiet by day.
Sound fleep by night; study and ease,

Together mix'd ; sweet recreation ;
And innocence, which most does please

With meditation.

IO

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Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,

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

Tell where I lie.

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I.
VIT

ITAL spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame :
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,

Oh the pain, the bliss of dying !
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

II.
Hark! they whisper; Angels say,
Sifter Spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite ?

Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ?
Tell me, my Soul, cap this be Death?

III.
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears

With founds seraphic ring :
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount! I fly!
O Grave ! where is thy Vi&tory?

O Death! where is thy Sting?

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« Si quid novisti rectius iftis, “ Candidus imperti; fi non, his utere mecum.”

HOR.

* Mr. Pope told me himself, that the “ Essay on « Criticism” was indeed written in 1707, though said 1709 by mistake.

J. RICHARDSON.

The Poem is in one book, but divided into three prin

cipal parts or members. The first (to ver. 201.] gives rules for the Study of the Art of Criticism; the fecond [from tience to ver. 560.] exposes the Causes of wrong judgment; and the third [froin thence to the end) anarks out the Morals of the Critic. When the Reader hath well considered the whole, and hath observed the regularity of the plan, the masterly conduet of the several parts, the penetration into Nature, and the compass of learning so conspicuous throughout, he shculd then be told that it was the work of an Author who had not attained the twentieth year of his age.--A very learned Critic has shewn, that Horace had the same attention to inethod in his Art of Poetry

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