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He for her parents and her lover call'd.
The various scene imagine. How his troops
Look'd dubious on, and wonder'd what he meant ;
While, strech'd below, the trembling suppliant lay
Rack'd by a thousand mingling passions-fear,
Hope, jealousy, disdain, submission, grief,
Anxiety and love in every shape.

To these, as different sentiments succeeded,
As mix'd emotions, when the man divine,
Thus the dread silence to the lover broke.

"We both are young-both charm'd. The right of war
Has put thy beauteous mistress in my power;
With whom 1 could, in the most sacred ties,
Live out a happy life. But, know that Romans,
Their hearts, as well as enemies, can conquer;
Then, take her to thy soul! and with her, take
Thy liberty and kingdom. In return,
I ask but this-when you behold these eyes,
These charms, with transport, be a friend to Rome."
Ecstatic wonder held the lovers mute;

While the loud camp, and all the clust'ring crowd
That hung around, rang with repeated shouts ;
Fame took th' alarm, and through resounding Spain,
Blew fast the fair report; which more than arms,
Admiring nations to the Romans gain'd.

XII-Pope's humorous Complaint to Dr. Arbuthnot, of the Impertinence of Scribblers.

SHUT, shut the door, good John !-fatigu'd, I said,
Tie up the knocker-say, I'm sick, I'm dead.
The dogstar rages! Nay, 'tis past a doubt,
All Bedlam, or Parnassus is let out,

Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
What walls can guard me, or what shades can hide?
They pierce my thickets; through my grot they glide :
By land, by water, they renew the charge;
They stop the chariot, and they board the barge:
No place is sacred; not the church is free;
E'en Sunday shines no sabbathday to me.

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Then, from the mint walks forth the man of rhyme--
Happy to catch me just at dinner time."
Friend to my life! (which did not you prolong,
The world had wanted many an idle song)
What drop or nostrum can this plague remove?
Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or love?
A dire dilemma!-either way I'm sped;
If foes, they write; if friends, they read me dead.
Seiz'd and ti'd down to judge how wretched I!
Who can't be silent, and who will not lie.

Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unequall'd
Against the mower's scythe. On every hand
Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth
And property assures it to the swain,
Pleas'd and unwearied in his guarded toil.

Full are thy cities with the sons of art-
And trade and joy, in every busy street,
Mingling are heard! even drudgery himself,
As at the car he sweats, or, dusty, hews
The palace stone, looks gay. The crowded ports,..
Where rising masts an endless prospect yield,
With labor burn, and echo to the shouts
Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves
His last adieu, and loosening every sheet,
Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind.
Bold, firm and graceful are thy gen'rous youth.
By hardship sine w'd, and by danger fir'd,
Scattering the nations where they go; and first.
Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas.
Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plains
Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside;
In genius and substantial learning, high";
For every virtue, every worth renown'd!
Sincere, plain hearted, hospitable, kind;
Yet, like the muttʻring thunder, when provokʻd, “.
The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource
Of those that under grim oppression groan.
Thy sons of Glory many! Alfred thine,
In whom the splendor of heroic war,
And more heroic peace, when govern'd well,
Combine! whose hallow'd name the virtues saint,
And his own Muses love; the best of kings!
With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine,
Names dear to fame; the first who deep impress'd.
On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms,
That awes her genius still. In statesmen thou,
And patriots fertile. Thine a steady More,
Who, with a generous, though mistaken zeal,
Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage;
Like Cato firm, like Aristides just,
Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor,
A dauntless soul erect, who smiled on death.

A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land!
Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul;
Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age,
To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again,
In all thy native pomp of freedom bold.
Thine is a Bacon; hapless in his choice
Unfit to stand the civil storm of state,
And through the smooth barbarity of courts, -

With firm but pliant virtue, forward still
To urge his course; him for the studious shade
Kind nature form'd, deep, comprehensive, clear,
Exact and elegant ; in one rich soul,
Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd.
Let Newton, pure intelligence, whom God
To mortals lent to trace his boundless works
From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame
In all philosophy. For lofty sense,
Creative fancy and inspection keen,
Through the deep windings of the human heart
Is not wild Shakespear thine and natur's boast ? --
Is not each great, each amiable Muse
Of classic ages in thy Milton met ?

A genius universal as his theme:
Astonishing as chaos, as the bloom
Of blowing Eden fair, as heaven sublime.
May my song soften, as thy Daughters I,
Britannia hail! for beauty is their own,
The feeling heart, simplicity of life.
And elegance, and taste; the faultless form,
Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek,
Where the live crimson through the native white,
Soft shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom,
And every nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rosebud moist with morning dew,
Breathing delight; and, underflowing jet,
Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown,
The neck slight shaded, and the swelling breast.
The look resistless. piercing to the soul,
And by the soul inform'd, when drest in love
She sits high smilling in the conscious eye.
Island of bliss! amid the subject seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coasts set up,
At once the wonder, terror and delight
Of distant nations, whose remotest shores
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm ;
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea wave.

O thou! by whose Almighty nod the scale ›
Ofempire rises, or alternate falls,
Send forth thy saving virtues round the land,
In bright patrol; white Peace, and social Love ;:.
The tender looking Charity, intent

On gentle deeds, and shedding tears thro' smiles;
Undaunted Truth and dignity of mind;
Courage compos'd and keen-sound Temperance;
Healthful in heart and look-clear Chastity,
With blushes reddening as she moves along,
Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws-

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Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possess'd beyond the Muse's painting.
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd;
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd,
From the supporting myrtles round,
They snatch'd her instruments of sound;
And, as they oft had heard apart,
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each (for madness rul'd the hour)
Would prove his own expressive power.
First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try,

Amid the chords bewilder'd laid;
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,

E'en at the sound himself had made.
Next' Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire,

In lightnings own'd his secret stings,
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,

And swept with hurried hand the strings.
With woful measures, wan Despair

Low sullen sounds his grief beguil'd:
A solemn, strange and mingled air:

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,

What was thy delighted measure!
Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail
Still would her touch the strain prolong;

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,
She call'd on Echo still through all her song:

And where her sweetest theme she chose,

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;
And Hope enchanted, smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair ::

And longer had she sung, but with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose.

He threw his blood stain'd sword in thunder down
And with a withering look,

The war denouncing trumpet took,
And blew a blast so loud and dread,

Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe;

And ever and anon, he beat

The doubling drum with furious heat:

And though, sometimes, each dreary pause between,
Dejected Pity at his side,

Her soul subduing voice applied,

Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien,

While each strain❜d ball of sight-seen'd bursting from His

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head.

Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes :
O talk of him in solitary glooms!

Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift hight to heaven
Th' impetuous song, and say from whom you rage
His praise, ye brooks attune, ye trembling rills-
And let me catch it as I muse along.
Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound-
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale-and thou majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself-
Sounds his stupendous praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to him, whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave to him-
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Great source of day! blest image here below,
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the yital ocean round,
On Nature write with every beam his praise.
Ye thunders roll; be hush'd the prostrate world,-
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks
Retain the sound; the broad responsive low,
Ye vallies raise; for the great Shepherd reigns,
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake; a boundless song
Burst from the groves; and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds, sweet Philomela, charm
The listening shades, and teach the night his praise.
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles:
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all;
Crown the great hymn! In swarming cities vast,
Assembled men to the deep organ join
The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At so pauses, through the swelling base..
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardor rise to heaven-
Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find, a fane in every sacred grove→→→

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