HERE in full light the russet plains extend;
There, wrapt in clouds, the bluish hills ascend.
Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
And, midst the desert, fruitful fields arise,

That, crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn,
Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn.

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See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd, Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground; Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,

And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

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Mavi to any poet, ir ne is enutieu w mis own maш.

AXA **, *4I kaJ ཟ* ༦རྒཅ་ in personal satire, in exquisite personal compliment, in delicacy, in refinement of sentiment, and in that subtle power which brings the creative part of imagination to wait upon the obvious things that lie about us, Pope has never been excelled. When an immediate comparison with Dryden is provoked, he must be held indeed inferior. But the comparison, except with reference to versification, (for Pope never aims at Dryden's magnificence of satire), is not called for. In point of versification it is certainly curious and instructive, seeing that the one was evidently modelled on the other, to mark the wide distinction between the easy and lax vigour of Dryden, and the correct strength of Pope. It is the distinction between the physical conformation of the men, for in Pope's strength there is weakness, while in Dryden's very weakness there is strength. The over-consciouness of power in Dryden gave rise to carelessness, which was yet nobly set off by his masterly sense of numbers and of the true principles of musical beauty;-while the excessively nervous apprehensiveness of Pope kept him always tremblingly correct, for, alive to his complexional want of strength, he was struggling to make up for it by the nicest and most unvaried system of close versification.

HERE in full light the russet plains extend;
There, wrapt in clouds, the bluish hills ascend.
Ev'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
And, midst the desert, fruitful fields arise,

That, crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn,
Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn.

See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd, Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'd ground; Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,

And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.

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FROM THE RAPE OF THE LOCK.

CLOSE by those meads, for ever crown'd with flowers,
Where Thames with pride surveys his rising towers,
There stands a structure of majestic frame,

Which from the neighbouring Hampton takes its name.
Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall foredoom
Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at home;
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take-and sometimes tea.
Hither the heroes and the nymphs resort,
To taste awhile the pleasures of a court;
In various talk th' instructive hours they past,
Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last;
One speaks the glory of the British queen,
And one describes a charming Indian screen;
And one interprets motions, looks, and eyes;
And with a word a reputation dies.
Snuff, or the fan, supply each
pause
With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that.
Meanwhile, declining from the noon of day,
The Sun obliquely shoots his burning ray:
The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,
And wretches hang, that jurymen may dine;
The merchant from th' Exchange returns in peace,
And the long labours of the toilet cease.
Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites,
Burns to encounter two adventurous knights,

At Ombre singly to decide their doom;

And swells her breast with conquests yet to come.
Straight the three bands prepare in arms to join,
Each band the number of the sacred nine.
Soon as she spreads her hand, th' aërial guard
Descend, and sit on each important card:
First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore,
Then each according to the rank they bore;
For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient race,
Are, as when women, wondrous fond of place.
Behold, four kings in majesty rever'd,
With hoary whiskers and a forky beard;
And four fair queens, whose hands sustain a flower,
Th' expressive emblem of their softer power;
Four knaves in garbs succinct, a trusty band;
Caps on their heads, and halberts in their hand;

And party-coloured troops, a shining train,
Drawn forth to combat on the velvet plain.

The skilful nymph reviews her force with care:

Let spades be trumps! she said, and trumps they were. Now move to war her sable Matadores,

In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors.

Spadillio first, unconquerable lord!

Led off two captive trumps, and swept the board.
As many more Manillio forc'd to yield,

And march'd a victor from the verdant field.
Him Basto follow'd, but his fate more hard
Gain'd but one trump, and one plebeian card.
With his broad sabre next, a chief in years,
The hoary Majesty of Spades appears,
Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal'd,
The rest, his many-colour'd robe conceal'd.
The rebel knave, who dares his prince engage,
Proves the just victim of his royal rage.

E'en mighty Pam, that kings and queens o'erthrew,
And mow'd down armies in the fights of Lu,
Sad chance of war! now destitute of aid,
Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade!

HEAVEN from all creatures hides the book of Fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?

The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood..
Oh blindness to the future! kindly given,
That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heaven :
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,

Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd,

And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar,
Wait the great teacher, Death; and God adore.
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.