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"Above, below, the rofe of fnow,

"Twined with her blufhing foe, we fpread i

"The briftled Boar in infant-gore

"Wallows beneath the thorny shade.

"Now Brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom,

Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

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" (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun) *Half of thy heart we confecrate,

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(The web is wove. The work is done.)"

• Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

• Leave me unbleffed, unpitied, here to mourn : In yon bright track, that fires the western skies,

< They melt, they vanish from my eyes.

6

But oh! what folemn fcenes on Snowdon's height
Descending flow their glitt'ring skirts unroll ?

< Vifions of glory, fpare my aching fight,

1

• Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my foul!
• No more our long-loft Arthur we bewail,
All hail †, ye genuine Kings, Britannia's Iffue, hail!
III. 2.

Girt with many a Baron bold,

Sublime their starry fronts they rear;

And gorgeous Dames, and Statesmen old

`In bearded majesty, appear.

* Eleanor of Caftile, died a few years after the conquest of Wales. The heroic proof she gave of her affection for her Lord is well known. The monuments of his regret, and forrow for the lofs of her, are fill to be feen in several parts of England. + Acceffion of the line of Tudor.

In the midft a Form divine!

Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-Line; Her lyon-port, her awe-commanding face, * Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace.

What ftrings fymphonious tremble in the air,
• What ftrains of vocal transport round her play!
Hear from the grave, great Talieffin *, hear;
• They breathe a foul to animate thy clay.

• Bright rapture calls, and foaring, as she fings,
• Wave in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.
III. 3.

• The verse adorn again

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

• And Truth fevere, by fairy Fiction drest.

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In bufkin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleafing Pain,

With Horrour, Tyrant of the throbbing breast.

A Voice, as of the Cherub-Choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear;

And diftant warblings leffen on my ear,

That loft in long futurity expire.

Fond impious Man, think'st thou, yon fanguine cloud, Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the Orb of day?

• To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

* Talieffin, Chief of the Bards, flourish'd in the VIth Century. His works are ftill preferved, and his memory held in bigh veneration among his Countrymen.

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Enough for me: With joy I fee

The different doom our Fates affign.
Be thine Despair, and fcepter'd Care,

To triumph, and to die, are mine.'

He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.

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POSTSCRIPT.

H friends, brought this Collection of POEMs to a com

AVING now, by the advice and affiftance of my

petent fize, it has been thought proper that the farther progrefs of its growth fhould here be ftop'd. From the loofe and fugitive pieces, fome printed, others in manufcript, which for forty or fifty years paft have been thrown into the world, and carelessly left to perish; I have here, according to the most judicious opinions I could obtain in distinguishing their merits, endeavour'd to select and preserve the best. The favourable reception which the former volumes have met with, demands my warmeft acknowledgments, and calls for all my care in compleating the Collection; and in this respect, if it appear that I have not been altogether negligent, I fhall hope to be allow'd the merit, which is all I claim, of having furnish'd to the Public an elegant and polite Amusement. Little more need be added, than to return my thanks to feveral ingenious friends, who have obligingly contributed to this Entertainment. If the reader fhould happen to find, what I hope he feldom will, any pieces which he may think unworthy of having been inferted; as it would ill become me to attribute his dislike of them to his own want of Tafe, so I am too confcious of my own deficiencies not to allow him to impute the infertion of them to mine,

R. DODSLEY.

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The Picture of Human Life 100
32 The Dropfical Man

33 Paradife regain'd

125

126

6. For a Column at Runny-To the Right Hon. Sir Robert

mede

Ode

Ode to the Tiber

Elegies,

34

37

Walpole

129

135

35 To a Lady on a Landscape of her
Drawing
Ode to Cupid on Valentine's
Day

1. Written at the Convent of
Haut Villiers in Cham-
41

pagne, 1754
2. On the Mausoleum of
Auguftus. To the Right
Hon. GeorgeBuffy Villers,
Viscount Villers, written
at Rome, 1756
44
3. To the Right Hon. George
Simon Harcourt, Viscount
Newnham, written at
Rome, 1756
4. To an Officer, written at
Rome, 1756

47

50

137

To the Hon. and Rev. F. C.138
To the Rev. T*** T**, D. D.

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