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The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the fage, And boasting youth, and narrative old age.. First at the fhrine the learned world appear, And, to the goddess, thus prefer their pray'r: "Long have we fought t' inftruct and please mankind,, "With studies pale, with midnight vigils blind : "But, thank'd by few, rewarded yet by none, "We here appeal to thy fuperiour throne; "On wit and learning the juft prize bestow, "For fame is all we must expect below.". The goddess heard, and bade the mufes raise The golden trumpet of eternal praise. From pole to pole the winds diffuse the found, And fill the circuit of the world around: Not all at once, as thunder breaks the cloud; The notes, at firft, were rather fweet than loud: By juft degrees, they every moment rise ;Spread round the earth, and gain upon the skies. Next thefe, the good and juft, an awful train, Thus, on their knees, address the facred fane: "Since living virtue is with envy curs'd, “And the best men are treated like the worst, "Do thou, juft goddess! call our merits forth, "And give each deed th' exact intrinfic worth.” "Not with bare justice shall your acts be crown'd, "(Said Fame) but high above defert renown'd : "Let fuller notes th' applauding world amaze, "And the loud clarion labour in your praife."

A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore And proud defiance in their looks they bore. "For thee (they cried) amidst alarms and strife, "We fail'd in tempefts down the ftream of life; "For thee whole nations fill'd with fire and blood, "And swam to empire through the purple flood, "Thofe ills we dar'd, thy inspiration, own; "What virtue feem'd, was done for thee alone,' "Ambitious fools! (the queen reply'd, and frown'd) "Be all your deeds in dark oblivion drown'd: "There fleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone; "Your ftatues moulder'd, and your names, unknown.".

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A fudden cloud straight fnarch'd them from my fight, And each majeftic phantom funk in night."

Then came the fmalleft tribe I yet had feen : Plain was their dress, and modeft was their mien"Great idol of mankind! we neither claim "The praife of merit, nor afpire to fame; "But, fafe in deferts from th' applaufe of men, "Would die unheard-of, as we liv'd unfeen. "'Tis all we beg thee, to conceal from fight "Thofe acts of goodness which themfelves requite.. "O let us, ftill, the fecret joy partake, "To follow virtue, ev'n for virtue's fake." "And live there men who flight immortal fame ? "Who, then, with incenfe fhall adore our name? "But, mortals, know, 'tis ftill our greatest pride "To blaze thofe virtues which the good would hide. "Rife, mufes, rife! add all your tuneful breath: "These must not fleep in darkness, and in death.” ` She faid In air the trembling mufic floats,

And on the winds triumphant fwell the notes ;-
So foft, though high; fo loud, and yet fo clear;
Ev'n lift'ning angels lean from heav'n to hear:
To farthest shores th' ambrofial fpirit flies,
Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies..

XI. The Country Clergyman..

NEAR yonder copfe, where, once the garden fmil'd,
And, ftill, where many a garden flow'r grows wild;
There, where a few torn fhrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher's modeft manfion rose.

A man he was, to all the country dear,
And paffing rich-with forty pounds a-year.
Remote from towns, he ran his godly race;
Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wifh'd to change his place <
Unpractis'd he, to fawn or feek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour:
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More fkill'd to raise the wretched than to rife.

His houfe was known to all the vagrant train He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain. The long remember'd beggar was his gueft, Whofe beard defcending swept his aged breaft

The

The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd:
The broken foldier, kindly bid to stay,

Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away;

Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of forrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and fhow'd how fields were won.
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,
And quite forgot their vices in their woe;
Careless their merits or their faults to fean,
His pity gave, ere charity began.

Thus, to relieve the wretched was his pride;
And ev❜n his failings lean'd to virtue's fide:
But, in his duty prompt at ev'ry call,

He watch'd, and wept, he pray'd and felt for all.
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies,
He try'd each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Befide the bed, where parting life was laid,
And forrow, guilt, and pain, by turns difmay'd,
The reverend champion ftood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling foul:
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise;
And his last falt'ring accents whifper'd praife.
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;

Truth from his lips prevail'd with double fway,
And fools, who came to fcoff, remain'd to pray.
The fervice paft, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honeft ruftic ran;
Even children follow'd, with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to fhare the good man's fmile a
His ready fmile a parent's warmth exprefs'd;
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares diftrefs'd:
To them, his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'n;
But all his ferious thoughts had reft in heav'n:-
As fome tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and mid-way leaves the ftorm,
Though round its breaft the rolling clouds are fpread,
Eternal funfhine fettles on its head.

XII. A Panegyric on Great-Britain.

HEAVENS! what a goodly profpect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and fpires,

And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all
The ftretching landfcape into fmoke decays!
Happy Britannia! where the Queen of Arts,
Inspiring vigour, Liberty abroad

Walks, unconfin'd, even to thy farthest cots,
And scatters plenty with unfparing hand.
Rich is thy foil, and merciful thy clime;
Thy ftreams unfailing in the fummer's drought;
Unmatch'd thy guardian oaks; thy valleys float
With golden waves: and on thy mountains flocks
Bleat numberlefs; while, roving round their fides,
Bellow the blackening herds in lufty droves.
Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rife unquell'd
Against the mower's fcythe. On every hand
Thy villas fhine. Thy country teems with wealth;
And property affures it to the fwain,
Pleas'd, and unwearied, in his guarded toil.
Full are thy cities with the fons of Art;
And trade and joy, in every bufy street,
Mingling are heard: even Drudgery himself,
As at the car he fweats, or dufty hews

The palace-ftone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports,
Where rifing malts an endless profpect yield,
With labour burn, and echo to the fhouts
Of hurry'd failor, as he hearty waves
His laft adieu, and loofening every fheet,
Refigns the fpreading veffel to the wind.
Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth,
By hardship finew'd, and by danger fir'd,
Scattering the nations where they go; and first
Or on the lifted plain, or ftormy feas.
Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans
Of thriving peace thy thoughtful fires prefide; :
In genius, and fubftantial learning, high;
For every virtue, every worth renown'd-;
Sincere, plain-hearted, hofpitable, kind ;
Yet, like the muftering thunder, when provok'd,

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The dread of tyrants, and the fole refource
Of thofe that under grim oppreffion groan.
Thy Sons of Glory many! Alfred thine,
In whom the fplendour of heroic war,
And more heroic peace, when govern'd well,
Combine! whose hallow'd name the Virtues faint,
And his own Mufes love; the best of kings!
With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys fhine,
Names dear to fame; the firft who deep imprefs'd
On haughty Gaul the terrour of thy arms,
That awes her genius ftill. In Statesmen thou,
And Patriots, fertile. Thine a fteady More,
Who, with a generous, thongh mistaken zeal,
Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage;
Like Cato firm, like Ariftides juft,
Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor,

A dauntless foul erect, who smil'd on death.
A Hampden too is thine, illuftrious land!
Wife, ftrenuous, firm, of unfubmitting foul;
Who ftemm'd the torrent of a downward age
To flavery prone, and bade thee rife again,
In all thy native pomp of freedom bold.
Thine is a Bacon; haplefs in his choice;
Unfit to stand the civil ftorm of state,
And through the fmooth barbarity of courts,
With firm but pliant virtue, forward still
To urge his courfe hin for the ftudious fhade
Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehenfive, clear,
Exact, and elegant; in one rich foul,
Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd.
Let Newton, pure Intelligence, whom God.
To mortals lent to trace his boundlefs works
From laws fublimely finple, fpeak thy fame.
In all philofophy. For lofty fense,
Creative fancy, and infpection keen

Through the deep windings of the human heart,
Is not wild Shakespeare thine and Nature's boast?
Is not each great, each amiable Mule

Of claffic ages in thy Milton met?
A genius univerfal as his theme;
Aftonishing as Chaos, as the bloom

Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven fublime.

May

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