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To what new clime, what distant sky,

Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly?'
Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore?
Of bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?

When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
When wild Barbarians spurn her duft ;
Perhaps ev'n Britain's utmost shore
Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore,
See Arts her savage sons controul,

And Athens rising near the pole !
'Till some new Tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And civil madriess tears them from the land.



Ye Gods ! what justice rules the ball ?
Freedom and Arts together fall;
Fools grant whate’er Ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are flaves.
Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state !
Still, when the luft of tyrant power succeeds,
Some Athens perishes, some Tully bleeds.




CHORUS of Youths and Virgins.


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H Tyrant Love ! hast thou pofsest

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breaft?
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,
And Arts but soften us to feel thy flame:
Love, soft intruder, enters here,

But entring learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
And Brutus tenderly reproves.
Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire,

Which Nature has impreft?
Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire
The mild and gen'rous breast?...

CHORU S. - Love's purer Aames the Gods

approve ; The Gods and Brutus bend to love : Brutus for absent Portia fighs,

*15 And sterner Cassius melts at sunia's eyes.

What is loose love?-a-transient gust,
Spent in a sudden storm of lust,
A vapour fed from wild defire,
A wand'ring, self-consuming fire.

20 But Hymen's kinder flames unite;

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

Productive as the Sun. Ver. 9. Why, Virtue, etc.) In allusion to that famous conceit of Guarini,

“ Se il
peccare è sì dolce, etc.



SEMICHORUS. Oh source of ev'ry social tye,

25 United wish, and mutual joy!

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

Whether his hoary fire he sfies,
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 rev'rence, hope, and love.

Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmizes,
Hence false tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprizes ;

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

Sacred Hymen! these are thine,






APPY the man, whose wish and care

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 supply him with attire,

6 Whose trees in summer yield him shade,

In winter fire.


Blest, who can unconcern’dly find

Hours, days, and years Nide foft away, In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; ftudy' and ease,

Together mixt; sweet recreation; And innocence, which most does please

With meditation,
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,

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

Tell where I lie.


• This was a very early production of our Author, written at about twelve years old. P.



The dying Christian to his SOUL.

O DE *


ITAL fpark of heav'nly Aame !

Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying;

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

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

Steals my senses, Ihuts
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

my fight,

III. The

* This ode was written in imitation of the famous fonnet of Hadrian to his departing foul ; but as much fuperior in sense and sublimity to his original, as the Chriftian Religion is to the Pagan.

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