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Unnumber'd seraphs round the burning throne, “ How art thou with diminish'd glory fall's Sung to th' incomprehensible Three-One:
From thy proud zenith, swift as meteors glide Yet then his clemency did please
Aslope a summer-eve ! Of all the stars, With lower forms t'augment his train,
Titled the first and fairest, thou didst hope And made thee, wretched creature, man,
To share divinity, or haply more, Probationer of happiness.
Elated as supreme, when o'er the North
Thy bloody banners stream'd, to rightful kings On the vast ocean of his wonders here,
Portending ruinous downfall; wondrous low, We momentary bubbles ride,
Opprobrious aud detested, art thou thrown, Till, crush'd by the tempestuous tide,
Disrob’d of all thy splendours : round thee stand Sunk in the parent flood, we disappear :
The swarming populace, and with fix'd regard We, who so gaudy on the waters shone,
Eying thee, pale and breathless, spend their rage Proud, like the showery bow, with beauties not our
In taunting speech, and jovial ask their friends,
' Is this the Mighty, whose jmperious yoke But, at the signal given, this earth and sea We bore reluctant, who to desert wilds, Shall set their sleeping vassals free ;
And haunts of savages, transform’d the marts, And the belov'd of God,
And capital cities raz’d, pronouncing thrall The faithful, and the just,
Or exile on the peerage? How becalm'd Like Aaron's chosen rod,
The tyrant lies, whose nostrils us'd to breathe Though dry, shall blossom in the dust : Tempests of wrath, and shook establish'd thrones!" Then, gladly bounding from their dark restraints, “ In solemn state the bones of pious kings, The skeletons shall brighten into saints,
Gather'd to their great sires, are safe repos'd And, from mortality refin'd, shall rise
Beneath the weeping vault: but thou, a branch To meet their Saviour coming in the skies : Blasted and curs’d by Heaven, to dogs and fowls Instructed then by intuition, we
Art doom'd a banquet; mingling some remains Shall the vain efforts of our wisdom see;
With criminals unabsolv'd; on all thy race Shall then impartially confess
Transmitting guilt and vengeance. From thy doms Our demonstration was but guess ;
Thy children skulk, erroneous and forlorn, That knowledge, which from human reason flows, Fearing perdition, and for mercy sue, Unless Religion guide its course,
With eyes uplift, and tearful. From thy seed And Faith her steady mounds oppose,
The sceptre Heaven resumes, by thee usorp'd Is ignorance at best, and often worse.
By guile and force, and sway'd with lawlas rage.
PART OF THE
FOURTEENTH CHAPTER OF ISAIAH
VERSES ON THE UNION.
Sees his own subjects with constraint obey ;
So when to distant vales an Eagle steers, The soil, with civil slaughter oft manur'd,
His fierceness not disarm'd by length of years, Pours forth abundant olives. Their high tops From his stretch'd wing he sees the feathers fly, The cedars wave, exulting o'er thy fall,
Which bore him to his empire of the sky. Whose steel from the tall monarch of the grove Unlike, great queen, thy steps to deathless Fame; Sever'd the regal honours, and up tore
O best, O greatest, of thy royal name! The scions blooming in the parent shade.
Thy Britons, fam'd for arts, in battle brave, When, vehicled in flaine, thou slow didst pass Have nothing now to censure, or to crave: Prone thro' the gates of Night, the dreary realms Ev'n Vice and factious Zeal are held in awe, With loud acclaim receiv'd thee. Tyrants old Thy court a temple, and thy life a law. (Gigantic forms, with human blood besmear'd) When edg'd with terrours, by thy vengefu} hast Rose from their thrones; for thrones they still The sword is drawn to gore a guilty land ; possess,
(cry, Thy mercy cures the wound thy justice gave, Their penance and their guilt: “ Art thou,” they For 'tis thy lov'd prerogative to save: “O emulous of our crimes, bere doom'd to reign And Victory, to grace thy triun.ph, brings Associate of our woe? Nor com'st thou girt Palms in her hand, with healing in her wings With livery'd slaves, or bands of warrior-knights, But as mild Heaven on Eden's op'ning gems Which erst before thee stood, a flattering crowd, Bestow'd the balmiest dews, and brightest beams: Observant of thy brow; nor bireling quires, So, whilst remotest climes thy influence share, Attempering to the harp their warbled airs, Britain's the darling object of thy care: Thy panegyric chaunt; but, hush'd in death, By thy wise councils, and resistless might, Like us thou ly'st unwept; a corse obscene Abroad we conquer, and at home unite : With dust, and preying worms, bare and despoil'd Before thou bid'st the distant battles cease Of ill-got pomp. We hail thee our compeer! Thy piety cements domestic peace;
Impatient of delay to fix the state,
Cupid, afflicted at the change, Thy dove brings olive ere the waves abate
To beg her aid to Venus run;
She heard the tale, nor thought it strange, Hail, happy sister-lands! for ever prove Rivals alone in loyalty and love;
But, smiling, thus advis'd her son: Kindled from Heaven, be your auspicious flame “ Pleasure grows languid with restraint, As lasting, and as bright, as Anna's fame!
'Tis Nature's privilege to roam : And thou, fair northern nymphs, partake our toil, If you'll not have your linnets faint, With us divide the danger, and the spoil:
Leave Hymen with his cage at home.' When thy brave sons, the friends of Mars avow'd, In steel around our Albion standards crowd; What wonders in the war shall now be shown By her, who single shook the Gallic throne!
OLIVIA. The day draws nigh, in which the warrior-queen Olivia's lewd, but looks devout, Shall wave her union-crosses o'er the Seine :
And scripture-proofs she throws about, Rous'd with heroic warmth unfelt before,
When first you try to win her: Her lions with redoubled fury roar;
Pull your fob of guineas out;
Fee Jenny first, and never doubt
Baxter by day is her delight:
No chocolate must come in sight
Before two morning chapters :
But, lest the spleen should spoil her quite,
She takes a civil friend at night,
To raise her holy raptures.
At large her fiery tail display,
Encourag'd by the dark : By strange extremes of destiny decreed
And yet the sullen thing all day
Snug in the lonely thicket lay,
TO A LADY,
SITTING BEFORE HER GLASS,
In which his face Narcissus spy'd,
He for himself despair'd and dy'd:
Now, Chloris, can you safer see Cupid resign'd to Sylvia's care
Your own perfections here than he. His bow and quiver stord with darts;
The lark before the mirror plays, Commissioning the matchless fair
Which some deceitful swain has set, To fill his shrine with bleeding hearts.
Pleas'd with herself, she fondly stays
To die deluded in the net. His empire thus secur'd, he flies
Love may such frauds for you prepare, To sport amid th' Idalian grove ;
Yourself the captive, and the snare.
But, Chloris, whilst you there review
Those graces opening in their bloom, The god their grateful songs engage,
Think how disease and age pursue, To spread his nets which Venus wrought;
Your riper glories to consume. Whilst Hymen held the golden cage,
Then sighing you would wish your glass · To keep secure the game they caught.
Could show to Chloris what she was. The warblers, brisk with genial flame,
Let Pride no more give Nature law, Swift froin the myrtle shades repair ;
But free the youth your power enslaves A willing captive each became,
Her form, like yours, bright Cynthia saw, And sweetlier carol'd in the snare.
Reflected on the crystal waves; When Hymen had receiv'd the prey,
Yet priz'd not all her charms above To Cytherea's fane they few;
The pleasure of Endymion's love. Regardless, while they wilg'd their way,
No longer let your glass supply How sullen all the songsters grew.
Too just an emblem of your breast , Alas! no sprightly note is heard,
Where oft to my deluded eye But each with silent srief consumes;
Love's image has appear'd imprest; Though to celestial food preferrd,
But play'd so lightly on your mind, They pining droop their painted plumes.
It left nu lasting print behind.
READING THE ART OF LOVE.
'Twas so infected with the vice
Of luscious songs, and lovers' sighs :
And straight profess herself a nun.
A youth of breeding and address, Both how to polish and direct their darts,
And call him Thyrsis, if you please, Let meaner beauties by his rule improve,
Who had some wealth to recompense And read these lines to gain success in love :
His slender dividend of sense ; But Heaven alone, that multiplies our race,
Yet could, with little thought and care, Has power t’increase the conquests of your face.
Write tender things to please the fair ; The Spring, before he paints the rising flowers,
.And then successively did grow Receives mild beams, and soft descending showers ;
From a half-wit, a finish'd beau ! But love blooms ever fresh beneath your charms,
(For fops thus naturally rise, Though neither pity weeps, nor kindness warms. As maygots turn to butterflies.)
The chiefs who doubt success, assert their claim This spark, as story tells, before By stratagems, and poorly steal a name:
Had held with madam an amour, The generous Son of Jove", in open fight,
Which he resolving to pursue, Made bleeding Vietory proclaim his might:
Exactly took the proper cue,
And tells her, he had brought th' advowson
Old Sanctity, who nothing fear'd
In petticoats, without a beard,
Admits the fox among the geese.
Here duty, wealth, and honour prove, Per gladios ausim, Neque in hoc tamen ignibas
Though three to one, too weak for lore;
And to describe the war throughout,
Would make a glorious piece, no doubt,
Where moral virtues might be slain, Ourselves sworn foes to emptiness,
And rise, and fight, and fall again : Assert that souls a tip-toe stand
Lore should a bloody myrtle wear, On what we call the pineal gland;
And, like Camilla, fierce and fair, As weather-cocks on spires are acid
The nun should charge.—But I forbear. To turn the quicker with each blast.
All human joys, though sweet in tastinę, This granted, can you think it strange, We all should be so prone to change;
Are seldoin (more's the pity) lasting:
The nymph had qualms, her cheeks were pale, Er'n from the go-cart till we wear
Which others thought th' effects of zeal :
But she, poor she, began to doubt,
(Best knowing what she'd been about)
The marriage eamest-penny lay, And, firm by livery arfd seisin,
And burnt her pocket, as we say. Holds the fee-simple of his reason.
She now invokes, to ease her soul, But still the gusts of love we find
The dagger and the poison'd bowl ; Blow strongest on a woman's mind;
And, self condemn'd for breach of row, Nor need I learnedly pursue
To lose her life and honour too, The latent cause, th' etiect is true;
Talk'd in as tragical a strain, as
Your craz'd Monimias and Roxanas.
But as she in her cell lay sighing,
Distracted, weeping, drooping, dying, A lovely nymph, and just nineteen,
The fiend (who never wants address Began to languish with the pleen :
To succour damsels in distress) She, who had shone at balls and play
Appearing, told her he perceiv'd In gold brocade extremely gay,
The fatal cause for which she griev'd; All on a sudslen grew precise,
But promis'd her en cavalier,
She should be freed from all her fear, Declaim'd against the growth of vice,
And with her Thyrsis lead a life A very prude in balf a year,
Devoid of all domestic strife,
If she would sign a certain scrawl
Aye, that she would, if that was all.
She sign'd, and he engag'd to do The reformado nymph removes;
Whate'er she pleas'd to set bim to. And Magdalen, with saints and martyrs,
The critics must excuse me now, Was plac'd in their respective quarters.
They both were freed, no matter how : Nor yet content, she could not bear
For when we epic writers use The rankness of the public air,
Machines to disengage the Muse,
We're clean acquit of all demands,
The matter's left in abler hands,
And if they cannot loose the knot,
AN EPISTLE TO MR. SOUTHERNE,
FROM KENT, JANUARY 28, 1710-11. Who might do every thing but pray?
Borp is the Muse to leave her humble cell, Madam in her gilt chariot flaunted, And Pug brought every thing she wanted ;
And sing to thee, who know'st to sing so well:
Thee! who to Britain still preserv'st the crown, A slave devoted to her will :
And mak'st her rival Athens in renown.
Could Sophocles behold, in mournful state,
The weeping Graces on Imoinda wait; And having stolen from lady abbess
Or hear thy Isabella's moving moan,
Distress'd and lost for vices not her own;
If envy could perinii, he'd sure agree,
To write by nature were to copy thee :
So full, so fair, thy images are shown, His next attendance happen'd right
He by thy pencil might improve his own. Amidst a moonless stormy night,
There was an age (its inemory will last!) When madam and her spouse together
Before Italian airs debauch'd our taste, Guess'd at his coming by the weather.
In which the sable Muse with hopes and fears He came: “ To-night,” says he, I drudge
Filled every breast, and every eye with tears. To fetch a heriot for a judge,
But where's that art which all our passions rais'd, A gouty, nine-i'th' hundred knave;
And mov'd the springs of Nature as it pleas'd ? But, madam, do you want your slave ?
Our poets only practise on the pit I need not presently be gone,
With florid lines, and trilling turn's of wit. Because the doctors have not done.
Howe'er 'tis well the present times can boast A rosy vicar and a quack
The racc of Charles's reign not wholly lost. Repuisd me in my last attack:
Thy scenes, immortal in their worth, shall stand But all in vain, for mine he is ;
Ainong the chosen classics of our land. A fig for both the faculties.
And whilst our sons are by tradition taught The dame produc'd a single hair,
ilow Barry spoke what thou and Otway wrote, But whence it came I cannot swear;
They'll think it praise to relish and repeat, Yet this I will affirm is true;
And own thy works inimitably great. It curl'd like any bottle screw. * Sir Nic," quoth she,“
Shakespeare, the genius of our isle, whose mind you know us all,
(The universal mirror of mankind) We ladies are fantastical :
Express'd all images, enrich'd the stage, You see this hair"-" Yes, madam”-“ Pray
But sometimes stoop'd to please a barbarous age: In presence of my husband stay,
When his immortal bays began to grow, And makes it straight; or else you grant
Rude was the language, and the humour low: Our solemn league and covenant
He, like the god of day, was always bright, Is void in law."-" It is, I own it:”
But rolling in its course, his orb of light And so he sets to work upon it.
Was sully'd, and obscur’d, though soaring high, He tries, not dreaming of a cheat,
With spots contracted from the nether sky. If wetting would not do the fcat:
But whither is th' adventurous Muse betray'd ? And 'twas, in truth, a proper notion,
Forgive her rashness, venerable shade! But still it kept th' elastic motion.
May Spripg with purple flowers perfume thy um, Well! more ways may be found than one
And Avon with his greens thy grave adorn: To kill a witch that will not drown,
Be all thy faults, whatever faults there be, “ If I," quoth he, “ conceive its nature, Iniputed to the times, and not to thee. This hair has flourish'd nigh the water:
Some scions shot from this immortal root, -Tis crisp'd with cold, perhaps, and then
Their tops niuch lower, and less fair the fruit: The fire will make it straight again."
Jonson the tribute of my verse might claiin, In haste he to the fire applies it,
Had he not strove to blemish Shakespeare's name. And turns it round and round, and eyes it. But, like the radiant Twins that gild the sphere, Heigh jingo, worse than 'twas before!
Fletcher and Beaumont next in pomp appear: The more it warms, it twirls the more.
The first a fruitful vine, in blooming pride, He starnp'd his cloven foot, and chafd;
Had been by superfluity destroy'd, The husband and the lady laugh'd.
But that his friend, judiciously severe, Howe'er he fancy'd sure enough
Prun'd the luxuriant boughs with artful care; He should not find it hammer-proof.
On various sounding
harps the Muses play'd, No Cyclops e'er at work was warmer,
And sung, and quaff’d their nectar in the shade. At forging thunder-bolts or armour,
Few moderos in the lists with these may stand, I'han Satan was; but all in vain :
For in those days were giants in the land : Again he beats.—It curls again!
Suffice it now by lineal right to claim, At length he bellow'd in a rage,
And bow with filial awe to Shakespeare's fame; * This hair will take me up an age.”
'The second honours are a glorious name. * This take an age!” the husband swore,
Achilles dead, they found no equal lord _ds! Betty has five hundred more." To wear his armour, and to wield his sword, * More! take your bond,” quoth Pug; “ adieu, An age most odious and accurs'd ensu'd, -Tis loss of time to ply for you"
Discolourd with a pious monarch's blood;
Whose fall when first the tragic virgin saw, Pond of a monarch, to the court she came,
And chose a numerous choir to chant his fame. Her merry sister still pursu'd the game,
First from the green retreats and lowly plains,
His theme so glorious, and his flight so true,
And Sappho's sweetness join'd with Pindar's fire. Her eyes she disciplin'd precisely right,
By Cæsar's bounty all the tuneful train
Or curs'd the barren ornament of bays;
The Muse, industrious to record his name
And for one reign made many ages poor.
Now from the rugged North unnumber'd swarms Etherege and Sedley join'd bim in her cause, Invade the Latian coasts with barbarous arms; And all deserv'd, and all receiv’d, applause. A race unpolish'd, but inur'd to loil,
Restor'd with less success, the Tragic Muse Rough as their heaven, and barren as their soil. Had quite forgot her style by long disuse; These locusts every springing art destroy'd, She taught her Maximins to rant in rhyme, And soft Humanity before them dy'd. Mistaking rattling nonsense for sublime;
Picture no more maintain'd the doubtful strife Till witty Buckingham reform'd her taste,
With Nature's scenes, nor gave the canvas life; And sneering sham’d her into sense at last. Nor Sculpture exercis'd her skill, beneath But, now relaps'd, she dwindles to a song, Her forming hand, to make the marble breathe: And weakly warbles on an eunuch's tongue ; Struck with despair, they stood devoid of thought, And with her minstrelsy may still remain,
Less lively than the works themselves had wrougbee Till Southerne court her to be great again.
On those twin-sisters such disasters came, Perhaps the beauties of thy Spartan dame, Though colours and proportions are the same Who (long defrauded of the public fame)
In every age and clime; their beauties known Shall, with superior majesty avow'd,
To every language, and confin'd by none. Shine like a goddess breaking from a 'cloud; But Fate less freedom to the Muse affords, Once more may reinstate ber on the stage,
And checks her genius with the choice of words: Her action graceful, and divine her rage.
To paint her thoughts, the diction must be found Arts have their empires, and, like other states, Of easy grandeur, and harmonious sound. Their rise and fall are govern’d by the Fates : Thus when she rais'd her voice divinely great They, when their period's measur'd out by Time, To sing the founder of the Roman state ; Transplant their laurels to another clime.
The language was adapted to the song, 'The Grecian Muse once fill'd with loud alarms Sweet and sublime, with native beauty strong: The court of Heaven, and clad the gods in arms; But when the Goths insulting troops appear'd, The trumpet silent, humbly she essay'd
Such dissonance the trembling virgin heard ! The Doric reed, and sung beneath the shade ; Chang'd to a swan, from Tyber's troubled streams Extoll'd a frugal life, and taught the swains She wing'd her flight, and sought the silver Thames. T' observe the seasons, and manure the plains ; Long in the melancholy grove she staid, Sometimes in warbled hymns she paid her vow, And taught the pensive Druids in the shade ; Or wove Olympic wreaths for Theron's brow; In solemn and instructive notes they sung Sometimes on flowery beds she lay supine,
From whence the beauteous frame of Nature And gave her thoughts a loose to love and wine;
sprung, Or, in her sable stole and buskins dress'd,
Who polish'd all the radiant orbs above, Show'd Vice enthron'd, and virtuous kings op And in bright order made the planets move ; press'd.
Whence thunders roar, and frightful meteors fly, The nymph still fair, however past her bloom, And comets roll unbounded through the sky; From Greece at length was led in chains to Rome: Who wing'd the winds, and gave the streams to Whilst wars abroad, and civil discord, reign'd,
flow, Silent the beauteous captive long remain'd; And rais'd the rocks, and spread the lawns below; That interval employ'd her timely care
Whence the gay Spring exults in flowery pride, To study, and refine the language there.
And Autumn with the bleeding grape is dy'd ; She views with anguish, on the Roman stage, Whence Summer suns embrown the labouring The Grecian beauties weep, the warriors rage :
swains, But most those scenes delight th' immortal maid, And shivering Winter pines in icy chains : Which Scipio had revis'd, and Roscius play'd. And prais'd the Power Supreme, nor dar'd advance Thence to the pleadi: gs of the gown she goes So vain a theory as that of Chance. (For Themis then could speak in polish'd prose): But in this isle she found the nyinphs so fair, Charm'd at the bar, amid th' attentive throng, She chang'd her hand, and chose a softer air, She bless'd the Syren-power of Tully's tongue. And Love and Beauty next became hercare. But when, Octavius, thy successful sword
Greece, her lov'd country, only could afford Was sheath'd, and universal peace restor'd, A Venus and a Helen to record ;