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No good in Fight of that gay Burden knows,
But fears his own Arms weight, more than his Foes.
He loft himself in that disguise of War,
And guarded seems as Men by Prisons are.
He therefore to exalt the wond'rous Sight,
Prepares now, and difarms himself for Fight. (those
'Gainst Shield, Helmet, Breast-plate, and instead of
Five sharp smoothStones from the nextBrook he chose
And fits them to his Sling; Then marches down;
For Sword, his Enemy's he esteem'd his own.
We all with various Pallion strangely gaz'd,
Some fad, some sham’d, fome angry, all amaz’d.

Now in theVailey he stands thro’his youthful Face
Wrath checks the Beauty, and sheds Manly Grace.
Both in his Looks so join'd, that they might move
Fear ev'n in Friends, and from an Enemy Love.
Hot as ripe Noon, sweet as the blooming Day,
Like Fuly furious, but more fair than May.
The accurdst Philiftian stands on the other side,
Grumbling aloud, and smiles'twixt Rage and Pride.
The Plagues of Dagon! A smooth Buy, faid he,
A cursed beardless Foe oppos’d to Me! (come!
Hell! With what Arms, hence thou fond Child, he's
Some Friend his Mother call to drive him home.
Not gone yet? If one Minute more you stay,
The Birds of Heav'n shall bear thee dead away.
Gods! a curft Boy! the rest then murmuring out,
He walks, and calts a deadly Grin about.
David with cheerful Anger in his Eyes,
Advances boldly on, and thus replies,
Thou coni'lt, vain Man, all arm'd into the Field,
And trust'it those War-toys, thy Sword, and Shield;
Thy Pride's my Spear, thy Blasphemy ny Smord;
My Shield thy Maker, Foo}; the Mighty Lord
Thee and Battels, who hath sent forth Me
er? thus, not to Fight, but Coriquer Thee.

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In vain shall Dagon thy false Hope withstand ;
In vain thy other God, thine own right Hand.
Thy Fall to Man shall Heavens strong Justice show,
Wretch! it is the only Good which thou can'ft do.

He said, our Host stood dully silent by,
And durst' not trust their Ears againft the Eye.
As much their Champion's Threats to him they fear'd,
As when the Monster's Threats to them they heard,
His Flaming Sword the enrag'd Philiftian shakes,
And haste to his Ruin with loud Curses makes.
Backward the Winds his active Curses blew,
And fatally round his own Head they few.
For now from David's Sling the Stone is fled,
And strikes with joyful Noise the Monter's Head.
It struck his Forehead, and pierc'd deeply there,
As swiftly as it pierc'd before the Air.
Down, down he falls, and bites in vain the Ground ;
Blood, Brain, and Soul crowd ningled through the

(Wound;
So a strong Oak, which many Years had stoud
With fair and fourishing Boughs, it self a Wood;
Tho'it might long the Axes Violence bear,
And play'd with Winds which other Trees did tear;
Yet by the Thunders Stroke from the Roof'tis rent:
So sure the Blows, that from high Heaven are sent.

Cowley

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XXV.
Acme and Septimius.

( 1.)
WH

Hilft on Septimius's panting Breast;

(Meaning nothing less than Reft)
Acme lean'd her loving Head,
Thus the pleas’d Septimius faid.

D 22

( 2.)

( 2.)
My dearest Acme, if I be
Once alive, and love not thee
With a Pállion far above,
All that e'er was called Love,
In a Lybian Defart may,
I become fome Lyon's prey ;
Let him, Acme, let him tear
My Breast, when Acme is not there.

( 3.)
The God of Love who itood to hear hini,
(The God of Love was always near hiui)
Pleas'd and tickled with the found,
Sneez'd aloud, and all around
The litsle Loves, that waited by,
Bow'd and bless'd the Augury.
Acme, infan'd with that he said,
Rear'd her gentle-bending Head;
And her purple Mouth with Joy,
Stretching to the delicious Boy :
Twice (and twice could scarce fuffice)
Sne kiss'd his drunken Rowling Eyes.
My little Life, niy All, laid shea
So may we ever Servants be,
To this beft God, and ne'er retain,
Our hated Liberty again;
So may thy Passion last for me,
As I a Pallion have for thee,
Greater and fiercer much than can,
Be conceiv'd by thee a Man.
Into my Marrow it is gone,
Fix'd and settled in the Bone;
It reigns not only in my Heart,
But runs like Life through every Part,

She

She spoke; the God of Love alou'd
Sneez’d again, and all the crowd
Of little Loves that waited by,
Bowd and bless'd the Augury,
This good Qmen thus from Heaven
Like a happy Signal given,
Their Loves and Lives (all Four) embrace;
And Hand in Hand, run all the Race,
To poor Septimius (who did now
Nothing else but Acme grow)
Acme's Bosom was alone,
The whole World's Imperial Throne,
And to faithful Acme's mind,
Septimius was all human kind;
If the Gods would please to be
But advis'd for once by me,
I'd advise them when they spy,
Any illuftrious piety,
To Reward her if it be she,
To Reward him if it be he,
With such a Husband, fuch a Wifes,
With Acme's and Septimus's Life.

Comley from Catullus.

a

XXVI.

BRUTUS.

EX
Xcellent Brutus, of all Humane Race,

The best, till Nature was in prov'd by Grace),
Till Men above themselves, Faith raised more
Than Reafon above Beasts before ;
D 3

Virtue.

Virtue was thy Life's Center, and from thence
Did silently and constantly dispense

The gentle vigorous Influence,
To all the wide and fair Circumference :
And all the Parts upon it lean'd so easily,
Obey'd the mighty force fo willingly,
That none could Discord or Disorder fee;

In all their contrariety.
Each had his Motion natural and free,

(cou'd be. And the whole no more mov'd, than the whole World

( 2.) From thy strict Rule lome think that thou didst swerve (Miftaken Honest Men) in Cefar's Blood; What Mercy could the Tyrant's Life deserve, From him who killd himself, rather than serve? Th' Heroick Exaltations of Good,

Are so far from being understood,
We count theni 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 fupreme Idea brave and bright,

In the Original Light :
But as her Beams reflected pass,
Through our own Nature, or ill Custom's Glass,

And 'tis no wonder so,

If with dejected Eye,
In ftanding Pools we seek the Sky,
That Stars so high abave, should seen to us below.

( 3.)
Can we stand by and fee,
Our Mother robb’d, and bound, and ravish'd be,

Yet not to her affistance ftir, Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher ? Or Shall we fear to kill him, if before, The Canceld Name of Friend he bore ?

Ingrate.

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