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We search among the dead
For treasures buried;
The Baltic, Euxine, and the Caspian,
And nothing sees but seas and skies,
Till unknown regions it descries,
For thy learn’d America is
But thy eloquence, and thy wit,
I little thought before
Could comprehend so vast a store)
Could have afforded half enough,
Of bright, of new, and lasting stuff, To clothe the mighty limbs of thy gigantic sense. Thy solid reason, like the shield from heaven
To the Trojan hero given, Too strong to take a mark from any mortal dart, Yet shines with gold and gems in every part, And wonders on it graved by the learn'd hand of A shield that gives delight
Even to the enemies' sight,
Upon thy reverend head,
But all which thou hast been,
So fully still dost thou
And, if we weigh, like thee,
That thus it needs must be
“ Hoc quoque Fatale est sic ipsum expendere Fatum.”
STRANGE and unnatural! let's stay and see
This pageant of a prodigy. Lo, of themselves the’enliven’d Chess-men move! Lo, the unbred, ill-organ'd pieces prove
As full of art and industry,
Of courage and of policy, [but we ! As we ourselves, who think there's nothing wise
Here a proud Pawn I admire,
Another thing and name;
That does bold wonders in the fight;
For those false Moves that break the Game, That to their Grave, the Bag, the conquer'd Pieces
bring, And, above all, the' ill conduct of the Mated King.
Whate'er these seem, whate’er philosophy
And sense or reason tell,” said I,
'Tis their own wisdom moulds their state,
They do, they do," said I ; but straight
And some are great, and some are small, Some climb to good, some from good fortune fall;
Some wise men, and some fools, we call; Figures, alas! of speech, for Destiny plays us all.
Me from the womb the midwife Muse did take: She cut my navel, wash'd me, and mine head
With her own hands she fashioned;
She did a covenant with me make, And circumcised my tender soul, and thus she
“ Thou of my church shalt be;
Hate and renounce,” said she, “Wealth, honour, pleasures, all the world, for me. Thou neither great at court, nor in the war, Nor at the’ exchange, shalt be, nor at the wrang
ling bar: Content thyself with the small barren praise,
That neglected verse does raise."
Took their unlucky doom.
Their several pleasures let them use,
With Fate what boots it to contend?
The star that did my being frame
But neither heat nor influence.
Rebellion and Hypocrisy;
As all the inspired tuneful men,
down to Ben.
EXCELLENT Brutus ! of all human race
Than Reason above beasts before.
The gentle, vigorous influence
In all their contrariety :
world could be.
From thy strict rule some think that thou didst
(Mistaken, honest men !) in Cæsar's blood; What
mercy could the tyrant's life deserve, From him who kill'd himself, rather than serve? The' heroic exaltations of Good
Are so far from understood, We count them Vice : alas ! our sight's so ill, That things which swiftest move seem to stand still: We look not upon Virtue in her height, On her supreme idea, brave and bright,
In the original light; But as her beams reflected
pass Through our own Nature or Ill-custom's glass :