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Do'st thou not see the livid Traces
of Thorns and Scourges in thy Heartg. If that be yet not crucify'd,, Look on his Hands, look on his Feet; look on his Side.
5. Operty. Oh! open wide the Fountains of thine Eyes,
And let 'em call
Canst thou deny him this, when He
May well be understood, That he will still require fonie. Waters to his Blood.
To have no Colours of his own ;
be a Statesman,, or a.Wit ;
Without one Notion of his own,
Thus meerly as his Fortune Chances,
If haply he the Sect pursues,
Or if it be his fate to meet
But if at first he minds his Hits;
The Praise of RIND A R. (In Imitation of Horace his Second Ode, B.42
Pindarum quisquis ftudet æmulari, &c.
PINDAR is imitable by none:
The Phenix Pindar is a vaft Species alone. Who e'er but Dedalus with waxen Wings cou'd fly And neither
fink too low, nor foar too high? What could he who follow'd claim, But of vain Boldness the unhappy Fame',
And by his Fall a Sea to Name?
Pindar's unnavigable Song, Like a swoln Flood from some steep Mountain poucs
(along. The Ocean meets with such a Voice, Fron his enlarged Mouth, as drowns the Ocean's
So Pindar does new Words and Figures roul
Which in no Channel deigns t'abide,
In a no-less Inimortal strain
Each rich embroider'd Line,
By his Sacred Hand is bound,
3. Whether at Pisa's Race he please
To carve in poliiht Verse the Conquerors Images ; i Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong
Be crowned in his Nimble, Artful, Vigorous Song :
Such mournful and such pleasing words,
He bids him Live and Grow in fame,
Among the Stars he fticks his Name : The Grave can but the Drofs of him devour, So fmall'is Deaths, fo great the Poets power.
The Theban Smar does upwards bear
Whilft, alas, my timorous Mufe
Like the laborious Bee
For little Drops of Honey flee, And there with humble Sweets contents her Industry.
By a Person of Honour.
She lay in the Plain, his Arm under his Head,
And his Flock feeding by, the fond Celadon said, If Love's a sweet Paflion, why does it Torment? If a bitter, said he, whence are Lovers content? Since I suffer with Pleasure, why shou'd I complain, Or grieve at my Fate when I know 'tis in vain? Yet fo pleasing the Pain is, so soft is the Dart, That at once it both wounds me,and tickles my Heart Tony felf I sigh often without knowing why, And when absent from Phillis methinks I could die; But, Oh! what a Pleasure ftill follows my Pain, When kind Fortune does help me to see her again, In her Eyes (the bright Stars that foretel what's to
(come By sofr stealth now and then I examine my Doom. I press her Hand gently, look languishing down, And by passionate Silence I make my Love known; But, Oh! how I'm bless’d, when so kind she does
(prove, By fume willing Mistake to discover her Love : When in striving to hide, she reveals all her Flarse, And our Eyes tell each other what neither dare name,