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So Death, so callid, can but the Form deface,
Th’immortal Soul flies out in empty Space,
To seek her Fortune in some other place. Dryd. Ovid.

TREES. See Creation, Funeral, Grove, Paradise.
Part to the Groves and woody Hills repair,
And with loud Labour fill the echoing Air.
Axes, high rais'd by brawny Arms, defcend
With mighty Sway, and make the Forest bend.
The Mountains murmur, and the nodding Oaks
Groan with their Wounds from thick redoubled Strokes.
The falling Trees desert the neighb'ring Sky,
Where now the Clouds may unmolested fly.
A shady Harvest lies dispers'd around,
And loafry Ruin loads th’incumber'd Ground.

They found an antient Wood,
The shady Covert of the savage Kind.

The founding Ax is ply'd : Firs, Pines, and Pitch-trees, and the tow'ring Pride Of Forest Alders, feel the fatal Stroke, And piercing Wedges cleave the stubborn Oak. Huge Trunks of Trees, feli'd from the steepy Crown Of the bare Mountains, roul with Ruin down. Dryd. Virg.

Thus yields the Ceder to the Ax's Edge, Whose Arms gave Shelter to the princely Eagle: Under whose Shade the ramping Lion slept, Whose Top-Branch over-look'd Jove's spreading Tree, (Hen. 6. And kept low Shrubs from Winter's powerful Wind.Shak. i Part.

As when a Pine is hew'd upon the Plains,
And the last mortal Stroke alone remains ;
Lab'rings in Pangs of Death, and threat'ning all,
This Way and that fhe nods, consid'ring where to fall.Dryd.Ovid.

The Indian Fig-tree too there spreads her Arms,
Branching fo broad and long, that in the Ground
The bending Twigs take Root, and Daughters grow
About the Mother. Tree: A pillar'd Shade,
High over-arch'd, and echoing Walks between :
There oft the Indian Herdsman fhunning Heat
Shelters in Cool, and tends his past'ring Herds
At Loop-holes cut thro`thickest Shades.

of a Tree cut in Paper.
Fair Hand, that can on Virgin Paper write,
Yet from the Scain of Ink preserve it White ;
Whole Travel o'er that silver Field does show,
Like Tracts of Leverets in Morning Snow.
Love's Image thus in purest Minds is. wrought,
Without a Spot or Blemish to the Thought..



Strange that your fingers should the Pencil foil,
Without the Help of Colours, or of Oil:
For tho' a Painter Boughs and Leaves can make,
'Tis you alone can make them bend and fhake.
Whose Breath falutes your new created Grove,
Like Southern Winds, and make it gently move.
Orpheus could make the Forest dance, but you
Can make che Motion and the Forest too.

He bar'd an antient Oak of all its Boughs;
Then on a rising Ground the Trunk he plac'd,
Which with the Spoils of his dead Foe he grac'd:
The Coat of Arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked Snag in Triumph borne,
Was hung on high, and glitter'd from afar,
A Trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his Arms, fix'd on the leafless Wood,
Appear'd his plumy Creft, besmear'd with Blood.
His brazen Buckler on the Left was seen,
Truncheons of shiver'd Lances hung between;
And on his Right was plac'd his Corsler bor'd;
And to the Neck was ty'd the unavailing Sword. Dryd. Virg.

TRUMPET. See Country-Life.

The sprightly Trumpets from afar,
Had giv'n the Signal of approaching War ;
Had rowz'd the neighb'ring Steeds to scowr the Fields,
While the fierce Rider clatrer'd on their Shields. Dryd. Virg.

The Trumpets terribly from far,
With ratling Clangor rowze the sleepy War:
The Soldiers Shouts fucceed the brazen Sounds,
And Heav'n from Pole to Pole the Noise rebounds. Dryd. Virg.

The Clangor of the Trumpets pierce the Sky. Dryd. Virg.
By the loud Trumpet that our Courage aids,
We learn that Sound as well as Sense perswades.


None so renown'd
The Warriour Trumpet in the Field to found;
With breathing Brass to kindle fierce Alarms,
And rowze to dare their Face in honourable Arms. Dryd. Virg,

The Morn awakes the Tulip from her Bed;
E'er Noon in painted Pride fe decks her Head:
Rob'd in rich Dye she triumphs on the Green,
And ev'ry Flows does Homage ro their Queen.


When blended Shades and Light
A brown Confusion make of Day and Night,


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When Birds obscene fly from their dark Abodes;
And prowling Wolves forsake the shady Woods :
The Lion now, who in his Den by Day,
His lazy Limbs extended, flumb'ring lay,
Yawning and stretching from his Covert comes,
Roars o'er the Hills, and thro' the Forest roams. Blac.

TYRANT. See King, Usurper.
Our Emperour is a Tyrant, fear'd and hated ;
I scarce remember in his Reign one Day
Pass guiltless o'er his execrable Head :
He thinks the Sun is loft, that fees not Blood
When none is shed, we count it Holiday.
We, who are most in Favour, cannot call
This Hour our own.

Dryd. Don Seb.
For this to Tyranny belongs,
To forget Service, but remember Wrongs. Den. Soph.

Proud, impatient,
Of ought superiour, ev'n of Heav'n that made him :
Fond of false Glory, of the favage Pow'r
Of ruling without Reason, of confounding
Just and Unjust, by an unbounded Will ;
By whom Religion, Honour, all the Bands
That ought to hold the jarring World in Peace,
Were held the Tricks of State, Snares of wise Princes
To draw their easy Neighbours to Destruction,
To walte with Sword and Fire their fruitful Fields:
Like fome accursed Fiend, who, 'scap'd from Hell,
Poyfons the balmy Air thro' which he flies;
He blasts the bearded Corn, and loaded Branches, (Rom. Tamerl.
The lab'ring Hinds best Hopes, and marks his Way with Ruin.

Oh the sweet Charms of independant Sway!
Princes, whose Will pretended Law restrains,
Are only royal Slaves, and rule in Chains.
But he's a King, who triumphs free from Law,
Like the fierce Monarchs who the Desart awe.
Who uncontrould range the wide Mountains o'er ;
And shake the Forest with their dreadful Roar:
Whose haughty Nod the trembling Herds obey,
Nor are their Subjects only, but their Prey,

Long had this Prince imperiously thus sway'd
By no fer Laws, but by his Will obey'd.
His fearful Slaves, to full Obedience grown,
Admire his Strength, and dare not use their own.

Beneath a Vale its Bosom does display,
Oppress'd with Riches, and profusely gay:
Where Nature throws her Gifts with lavish Hand,


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And crowns, with flow'ry Luxury, the Land.
Fruits, Rivers, Meadows, Groves, and airy Plains,
Still echoing with the Lays of happy Swains,
Lovely Confusion make, and charm the Eye
With beautiful Irregularity.

V E N U S.
Delight of human Kind, and Gods above,
Parent of Rome, propitious Queen of Love!
Whose vital Pow'r, Air, Earth, and Sea supplies;
And breeds whate'er is born beneath the rolling Skies:
For ev'ry Kind by thy prolifick Might,
Springs, and beholds the Regions of the Light.
Thee Goddess! thee, the Clouds and Tempefts fear,
And at thy pleasing Presence disappear:
For thee the Land in fragrant Flow'rs is dress’d,
For thee the Ocean smiles and smooths her wavy Breast,
And Heav'n itself with more serene and purer Light is bleft.
For when the rising Spring adorns the Mead,
And a new Scene of Nature stands display'd ;
When teeming Buds, and chearful Greens appear,
And Western Gales unlock the lazy Year;
The joyous Birds thy Welcome first express,
Whose native Songs thy genial Fire confefs :
Then savage Beasts bound o'er their slighted Food,
Strook with thy Darts, and tempt the raging Flood.
All Nature is thy Gift, Earth, Air, and Sea :
Of all that breaths the various Progeny,
Scung with Delight, is goaded on by thee,
O'er barren Mountains, o'er the flow'ry Plain,
The leafy Forest, and the liquid Main,
Extends thy uncontrould and boundless Reign.
Thro' all the living Regions thou dost move,
And scatter'st where thou go'st, che kindly Seeds of Love.
Since then the Race of ev'ry living Thing
Obeys thy Pow'r ; since nothing new can spring
Withour thy Warmth, without chy Influence bear,
Or beautiful or lovesome can appear;
Be thou my Aid : My tuneful Song inspire,
And kindle with thy one productive Fire;
While all thy Province, Nature, I survey,
And sing to Memmires an immortal Lay,

(Pow'r display. Of Heav'n, and Earth ; and ev'ry where thy wondrous

Mean time, on Land and Sea let barb'rous Discord cease,
· And lull the list'ning World in universal Peace.
To thee Mankind their sofc Repose must owe,
For chou alone that Bleffing canft beftow;

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Because the brutal Business of the War,
Is manag'd by thy dreadful Servant's Care:
Who oft retires from fighting Fields, to prove
The pleafing Pains of thy eternal Love :
And, panting on thy Breaft, fupinely lies,
While with thy heav'nly Form he feeds his familh'd Eyes :
Sucks in with open Lips thy balmy Breath,
By 'Turns restor'd to Life, and plung'd in pleasing Death.
There while thy curling Limbs about him move,
Involv'd and fetter'd in the Links of Love ;
When wilhing all, he nothing can deny,
Thy Charms in that aufpicious Moment try,
With winning Eloquence our Peace implore,
And Quiet to the weary World restore.

Dryd. Lucr
Creator Venuus ! Genial Pow'r of Love !
The Bliss of Men below, and Gods above!
Beneath the sliding Sun thou runn'st thy Race,
Doft fairest shine, and best become thy Place :
For thee the Winds their Eastern Blasts forbear,
Thy Mouth reveals the Spring, and opens all the Year.
Thee Goddess! thee, the Storms of Winter fly,
Earth smiles with Flow'rs renewing, laughs the Sky,
And Birds to Lays of Love their tuneful Notes apply.
For thee the Lyon loachs the Taste of Blood,
And roaring hunts bis Female thro' the Wood;
For thee the Buils rebellow chro' the Groves,
And tempt the Stream, and fouff cheir absent Loves.
'Tis thine, whate'er is pleasant, good, or fair,
All Nature is thy Province, Life thy Care,
Thou mad'st the World, and dost the World repair.
Thou Gladder of the Mount of Cytheron,
Increase of fove, Companion of the Sun !
With smiling Aspect you ferenely move
In your fifth Orb, and rule the Realm of Love.
The Fates but only spin the coarser Clue,
The finest of the Wool is left for you;
Spare me but one small Portion of the Twine,
And let the Sisters cut below your Line ;
The rest among the Rubbish may they sweep:
Or add it to the Yarn of some old Miser's Heap.Dryd.Pald Ari.

She turn'd, and made appear Her Neck refulgent, and disheveld Hair ; Which flowing on her Shoulders reach'd the Ground, And widely spreads ambrosial Scenrs around. In Length of Train descends her sweeping Gowni, (Virg. And by her graceful Walk the Queen of Love is known. Dryd.


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