Wak'd into voice, it pours its tuneful strains,
And harmony divine enchants the plains.

Quod fpiro, et placeo, fi placeo tuum eft

HOR.

On the Birth-Day of SHAKESPEAR. A CENTO. Taken from his Works.

By the Same.

Naturâ ipfâ valere, et mentis viribus excitari, et quafi quodam divino fpiritu afflari.

PEACE

EACE to this meeting,

Joy and fair time, health and good wishes!

Now, worthy friends, the cause why we are met,

Is in celebration of the day that gave

Immortal Shakespear to this favour'd ifle,
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
Which from the prime creation e'er she fram’d.
O thou divineft nature! how thyself thou blazon'st
In this thy fon! form'd in thy prodigality,

To hold thy mirror up, and give the time,

Its very form and pressure! When he speaks

Each aged ear plays truant at his tales,

And younger hearings are quite ravished,
So voluble is his difcourfe-

Gentle

As Zephyr blowing underneath the violet,
Not wagging its fweet head-yet as rough,
(His noble blood enchaff'd) as the rude wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,

$ 2

CICERO.

And

1

And make him ftoop to th' vale.

-'Tis wonderful

That an invifible inftinct fhould frame him
To Royalty, unlearn'd; honour untaught;
Civility not feen in other; knowledge
That wildly grows in him, but yields a crop
As if it had been fown. What a piece of work!
How noble in faculty! infinite in reason!
A combination and a form indeed,

Where every God did feem to set his seal.
Heav'n has him now
Still fanctify his relicts; and this day
Stand aye distinguish'd in the kalendar
To the last fyllable of recorded time :
For if we take him but for all in all
We ne'er fhall look upon his like again.

·yet let our idolatrous fancy

An ODE to SCULPTURE.

ED by the Mufe, my ftep pervades
The facred haunts, the peaceful fhades,
Where Art and Sculpture reign :
I fee, I fee, at their command,

The living ftones in order stand,

And marble breathe through ev'ry vein!
Time breaks his hoftile scythe; he fighs
To find his pow'r malignant fled;
"And what avails my dart, he cried,

"Since thefe can animate the dead?

"Since wak'd to mimic life, again in stone
"The patriot feems to speak, the heroe frown?"

There Virtue's filent train are seen,
Faft fix'd their looks, erect their mien.
Lo! while, with more than stoic soul,
The Attic fage exhaufts the bowl,
A pale fuffufion shades his eyes,
Till by degrees the marble dies!

b

See there the injur’d ' poet bleed !

Ah! fee he droops his languid head!

What starting nerves, what dying pain,
What horror freezes ev'ry vein !

These are thy works, O Sculpture! thine to fhew
In rugged rock a feeling fenfe of woe.
Yet not alone fuch themes demand
The Phydian ftroke, the Dadal hand;
I view with melting eyes
A fofter scene of grief display'd,
While from her breast the duteous maid
Her infant fire with food fupplies.
In pitying stone she weeps, to fee

His fqualid hair, and galling chains :
And trembling, on her bended knee,

His hoary head her hand sustains ;

While ev'ry look, and forrowing feature prove,
How foft her breast, how great her filial love.
Lo! there the wild Affyrian queen,

C

With threat'ning brow, and frantic mien!

Socrates, who was condemned to die by poison.

Seneca, born at Corduba, who, according to Pliny, was orator, poet, and philofopher. He bled to death in the bath.

• Semiramis, cum ei circa cultum capitis fui occupatæ nunciatum effet Babylonem defeciffe; altera parte crinium adhuc

Revenge! revenge! the marble cries,
While fury fparkles in her eyes.
Thus was her aweful form beheld,
When Babylon's proud fons rebell'd;
She left the woman's vainer care,
And flew with loose dishevell’d hair;
She stretch'd her hand, imbru'd in blood,
While pale Sedition trembling ftood;
In fudden filence, the mad crowd obey'd
Her aweful voice, and Stygian Discord fled!
With hope, or fear, or love, by turns,
The marble leaps, or fhrinks, or burns,
As Sculpture waves her hand;
The varying paffions of the mind
Her faithful handmaids are affign'd,

And rife and fall by her command.
When now life's wafted lamps expire,
When finks to duft this mortal frame,
She, like Prometheus, grafps the fire;

Her touch revives the lambent flame;
While phoenix-like, the statesman, bard, or fage,
Spring fresh to life, and breathe through every age.
Hence, where the organ full and clear,

With loud hofannas charms the ear,

Behold (a prifm within his hands)

Abforb'd in thought, great "Newton ftands;

folutâ protinus ad eam expugnandum cucurrit: nec prius decorum capillorum in ordinem quam tantam urbem in poteftatem fuam redegit: quocircà flatua ejus Babylone pofita eft,

&c.

Val. Max. de Ira. A noble flatue of Sir Ifaac Newton, erected in TrinityCollege chapel, by Dr. Smith.

Such was his folemn wonted state,
His ferious brow, and mufing gait,
When, taught on eagles-wings to fly,
He trac'd the wonders of the sky;
The chambers of the fun explor'd,

Where tints of thousand hues are stor❜d;
Whence every flower in painted robes is drest,
And varying Iris fteals her gaudy vest.
Here, as Devotion, heavenly queen,
Conducts her beft, her fav'rite train,
At Newton's fhrine they bow!
And while with raptur'd eyes they gaze,
With Virtue's pureft veftal rays,

Behold their ardent bofoms glow !
Hail, mighty mind! hail, aweful name!
I feel infpir'd my lab'ring breast;
And lo! I pant, I burn for fame!

Come, Science, bright etherial gueft,
Oh come, and lead thy meaneft, humbleft fon,
Through Wisdom's arduous paths to fair renown,
Could I to one faint ray aspire,

One spark of that celeftial fire,
The leading cynofure, that glow'd
While Smith explor'd the dark abode,
Where Wisdom fate on Nature's fhrine,
How great my boaft! what praise were mine!
Illuftrious fage! who first could't tell

Wherein the power of Mufic dwell;

And ev'ry magic chain untie,

That binds the foul of Harmony!