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Floods of fire inceffant stray,
Streams of everlasting day.
Round thy sphere the starry throng,
Varying sweet their ceaseless song,
(While their vivid flames on high
Deck the clear untroubled sky,)
To the tuneful lyre advance,
Joining in the mystic dance,
And with step alternate beat
Old Olympus' lofty seat.
At their head the wakeful Moon
Drives her milkwhite heifers on,
And with measur'd


Glides around the vast of heaven,
Journeying with unwearied force,
And rejoicing in her course.
Time attends with swift career,
And forms the circle of the year.

III. - To Nemesis.
Nemesis, whose dreaded weight
Turns the scale of human fate;
On whose front black terrors dwell,
Daughter dire of Justice, hail!
Thou whose adamantine rein
Curbs the arrogant and vain.
Wrong and Force before thee die,
Envy thuns thy searching eye,
And, her fable wings outspread,
Flies to hide her hated head.
Vol. V.



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Where thy wheel with restless round
Runs along th' unprinted ground,
Humbled there, at thy decree
Human greatness bows the knee.
Thine it is unseen to trace
Step by step each mortal's pace :
Thine the fons of Pride to check,
And to bend the stubborn neck,
Till our lives directed stand
By the measure in thy hand.
Thou observant fitit on high
With bent brow and stedfast eye,
Weighing all that meets thy view
In thy balance juft and true.
Goddess, look propitious down,
View us, but without a frown,
Nemesis, whose dreaded weight
Turns the scale of human fåte.

Nemesis be still our theme,
Power immortal and supreme,
Thee we praise, nor thee alone,
But add the partner of thy throne.
Thee and Justice both we fing,
Justice, whose unwearied wing
Rears aloft the virtuous name
Safe from hell's rapacious claim;
And when thou thy wrath haft shed
Turns it from the guiltless head.

A Sat

A SATIRE in the Manner of Persius, in a

Dialogue between Atticus and EUGENIO.

By the late Lord HERVE Y.


HY wears my pensive friend that gloomy brow?

Say, whence proceeds th' imaginary woe?
What profp'rous villain haft thou met to-day?
Or hath afflicted Virtue cross'd thy way?
Is it fome crime unpunish,d you deplore,
Or right subverted by injurious Power ?
Be this or that the cause, 'tis wisely done
To make the sorrows of mankind

your own :
To see the injur'd pleading unredress’d,
The proud exalted, and the meek oppress’d,
Can hurt thy health, and rob thee of thy reft.
Your cares are in a hopeful way to cease,
If you must find perfe&tion to find peace.
But reck thy malice, vent thy ftifled rage,
Inveigh against the times and lash the age. -
Perhaps just recent from the court you come,
D'er public ills to ruminate at home :

Say," which of all the wretches thou hast seen
Site Hath thrown a morsel to thy hungry spleen?




What worthless member of that medley throng,
Who bafely acts, or tamely suffers wrong?
He, who to nothing but his int'rest true,
Cajoles the fool he's working to undo:
Or that more despicable timorous slave,
Who knows himself abus'd, yet hugs the knave
Perhaps you mourn oùr senate's finking fame,
That shew of freedom' dwindled to a name :
Where hireling judges deal their venal laws,
And the best bidder hath the jufteft cause;
What then?
They have the pow'r, and who shall dare to blame
The legal wrong that bears Aftræa's name?
Besides, such thoughts shou'd never stir the rage
Of youthful gall ;-reflection comes with age :
'Tis our decaying life's autumnal fruit,
The bitter produce of our latest shoot,
When ev'ry blossom of the tree is dead,
Enjoyment wither'd, and our wishes fled :
Thine still is in its spring, on ev'ry bough
Fair Plenty blooms, and youthful Odours blow;
Season of joy, too early to be wise,
The time to covet pleasures, not despise :
Yours is an age when trifles ought to please,
Too soon for reason to attack thy ease.
Tho' foon the hour shall come, when thou fhalt know
"Tis vain fruition ull, and empty shew.


But late examine, late inspect mankind,
If seeing pains, 'tis prudence to be blind.
Let not their vices yet employ thy thoughts,
Laugh at their follies, ere you weep their faults:
And when (as sure you must) at length you find
What things men are, resolve to arm your mind.
Too nicely never their demerits scan,
And of their virtues make the most you can.
Silent avert the mischief they intend,
And cross, but seem not to discern, their end :
If they prevail, submit, for prudence lies
In suffering well.—'Tis equally unwise,
To see the injuries we won't resent,
And mourn the evils which we can't prevent.

You counsel well to bid me arm my mind.
Wou'd the receipt were easy, as 'tis kind;
But hard it is for misery to reach
That fortitude prosperity can teach.
Cou'd I forbid what has been to have been,
Or lodge a doubt on truths myself have seen;
Cou'd I divest remembrance of her store,
And say, collect these images no more ;
Cou'd I dislodge sensation from my breast,

And charm her wakeful faculties to rest ;

Cou'd I my nature and myself fubdue,

might the method you prescribe pursue,

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