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And Woolsey's pride (his greatest guilt)
And what great William fince has built;
And flowing fast by Richmond scenes,
(Honour'd retreat of two great queens)
From Sion-house, whose proud survey
Brow-beats your flood, look cross the way,
And view, from highest swell of tide,
The milder scenes of Surry side.

Though yet no palace grace the shore,
To lodge that pair you shou'd adore;
Nor abbies, great in ruin, rise,
Royal equivalents for vice;
Behold a Grott, in Delphic grove,
The Graces' and the Muses' love.
(O might our laureat study here,
How would he hail his new-born year!)
A temple from vain glories free,
Whose goddess is Philosophy,
Whose fides such licens'd idols crown
As fuperftition wou'd pull down;
The only pilgrimage I know
That men of sense wou'd chuse to go :
Which sweet abode, her wisest choice,
Urania chears with heavenly voice,
While all the Virtues gather round,
To see her confecrate the ground.
If thou the God with winged feet,
In council talk of this retreat,

And

And jealous gods resentment show
At altars rais'd to men below;
Tell those proud lords of heaven, 'tis fit
Their house our heroes should admit;
While each exifts, as poets fing,
A lazy lewd immortal thing,
They muft (or grow in disrepute)
With earth's first commoners recruit.

Needless it is in terms unskill'd
To praise whatever Boyle shall build ;
Needless it is the busts to name
Of men, monopolists of fame;
Four chiefs adorn the modest stone,
For virtue as for learning known;
The thinking sculpture helps to raise
Deep thoughts, the genii of the place :
To the mind's ear, and inward fight,
Their silence speaks, and shade gives light:
While insects from the threshold preach,
And minds dispos'd to musing teach :
Proud of strong limbs and painted hues,
They perish by the Nightest bruise;
Or maladies begun within,
Destroy more slow life's frail machine;
From maggot-youth thro' change of state
They feel like us the turns of Fate;
Some born to creep have liv'd to fly,
And change earth-cells for dwellings high;

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Vol. V.

And

And some that did their fix wings keep,
Before they dy'd been forc’d to creep.
They politics like ours profess,
The greater prey upon the lefs :
Some strain on foot huge loads to bring ;
Some toil incessant on the wing ;
And in their different ways explore
Wise sense of want by future store ;
Nor from their vigorous schemes defift
Till death, and then are never mift.
Some frolick, toil, marry, increase,
Are fick and well, have war and peace,
And broke with age, in half a day
Yield to successors, and away.

Let not profane this facred place,
Hyprocrisy with Janus' face ;
Or pomp, mixt state of pride and care;
Court kindness, Falfhood's polish'd ware;
Scandal disguis’d in Friendship's veil,
That tells, unafk'd, th' injurious tale;
Or art politic, which allows
The jesuit-remedy for vows;
Or priest, perfuming crowned head,
Till in a swoon Truth lies for dead;
Or tawdry critic, who perceives
No grace, which plain proportion gives,
And more than lineaments divine
Admires the gilding of the shrine ;

Or

Or that felf-haunting spectre Spleen,
In thickest fog the clearest seen ;
Or Prophecy, which dreams a lie,
That fools believe and knaves apply;
Or frolick Mirth profanely loud,
And happy only in a crowd ;
Or Melancholy's pensive gloom,
Proxy in Contemplation's room.

O Delia, when I touch this string,
To thee my Muse directs her wing.
Unspotted fair, with downcast look
Mind not so much the murm’ring brook ;
Nor fixt in thought, with footsteps flow
Through cypress allies cherish woe:
I see the soul in pensive fit,
And mopeing like fick linnet fit,
With dewy eye and moulting wing,
Unperch'd, averse to fly or sing;
I see the favourite curls begin
(Disus'd to toilet discipline,)
To quit their post, lose their smart air,
And grow again like common hair ;
And tears, which frequent kerchiefs dry,
Raise a red circle round the eye;
And by this bur about the moon,
Conjecture more ill weather foon.
Love not so much the doleful knell;
And news the boding night-birds tell;

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Nor

Nor watch the wainscot's hollow blow;
And hens portentous when they crow;
Nor sleepless mind the death-watch beat;
In taper find no winding sheet;
Nor in burnt coal a coffin see,
Tho' thrown at others meant for thee :
Or when the coruscation gleams,
Find out not first the bloody streams; .
Nor in imprest remembrance keep
Grim tap'ítry figures wrought in sleep;
Nor rise to see in antique hall
The moon-light monsters on the wall,
And shadowy spectres darkly pass
Trailing their sables o'er the grass.
Let vice and guilt act how they please
In souls, their conquer'd provinces ;
By heaven's just charter it appears,
Virtue's exempt from quartering fears.
Shall then arm'd fancies fiercely drest,
Live at discretion in your

breast?
Be wise, and pannic fright disdain,
As notions, meteors of the brain;
And fighs perform’d, illufive scene !
By magic lanthorn of the spleen.
Come here, from baleful cares releas'd,
With Virtue's ticket, to a feast,
Where decent mirth and wisdom join'd
In stewardship, regale the mind.

Call

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