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Such Wit, fuch Modefty, fuch Strength of Mind,
A Soul at once fo manly, and fo kind:

Wou'd wonder, when he turn'd the Volume o'er, -
And after fone few Leaves fhou'd find no more.
Nought but a blank remain, a dead void Space,
A ftep of Life that promis'd fuch a Race:
We must not, dare not chick that Heav'n began
A Child, and cou'd not finish him a Man;
Reflecting what a mighty Store was laid
Of rich Materials, and a Model made:
The Coft already furnish'd; fo bestow'd,
As more was never to one Soul allow'd ;
Yet after this Profufion spent in vain,
Nothing but mould'ring Afnes to remain.
I guess not, left I split upon the Shelf,
Yet durft I guess Heav'n kept it for him elf;
And giving us the ufe did foou recal,
Ere we cou'd fpare the mighty Principal.

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Thus then he difappear'd, was rarify'd,
For 'tis improper Speech to say he dy'd:
He was exhal'd: His great Creator drew
His Spirit, as the Sun the Morning Dew.
'Tis Sin produces Death; and he had none
But the Taint Adam left on ev'ry Son. -
He added not, he was fo pure, so good,
'Twas but th' Original forfeit of his Blood:
And that fo little, that the River ran
More clear than the corrupted Fount began.
Nothing remain'd of the firft muddy Clay,
The length of Course had wash'd it in the way.
So deep, and yet fo clear, we might behold
The Gravel bottom, and that bottom Gold,-

As fuch we lov'd, admir'd, almost ador'd,
Gave all the Tribute Mortals cou'd afford.
Perhaps we gave fo much, the Pow'rs above
Grew angry at our fuperftitious Love:
For when we more than Human Homage pay;
The charming Cause is juftly fnatch'a away.

Thus was the Crime not his, but ours alone, And yet we murmur that he went so foon; Though Miracles are short and rarely shown. Hear then, ye mournful Parents, and divide That Love in many which in one was ty'd. That individual Bleffing is no more,

M

But multiply'd in your remaining Store.
The Flame's difpers'd, but does not all expire,
The Sparkles blaze, though not the Globe of Fire.
Love him by Parts, in all your num❜rous Race,
And from thofe Parts form one collected Grace;
Then, when you have refin'd to that Degree,
Imagine all in one, and think that one is he.

To my Honour'd Friend Dr. Charleton, on bis learned and useful Works; but more particularly bis Treatife of Stone-Heng, by him reftor'd to the true Founders.

T

By Mr. DRYDEN.

"HE longest Tyranny that ever fway'd, Was that wherein our Ancestors betray'd Their free-born Reason to the Stagirite, And made his Torch their univerfal Light. So Truth, while only one fupply'd the State, Grew fcarce, and dear, and yet fophifticate. 'Till it was bought, like Emp'rick Wares, or Charms, Hard Words feal'd up with Ariftotle's Arms. Columbus was the first that shook his Throne; And found a Temp'rate in a Torrid Zone: The feav'rish Air fann'd by a cooling Breeze, The fruitful Vales fet round with fhady Trees; And guiltless Men, who danc'd away their time, Fresh as their Groves, and Happy as their Clime. Had we ftill paid that Homage to a Name, Which only God and Nature justly claim;

The Western Seas had been our utmoft Bound,
Where Poets ftill might dream the Sun was drown'd:
And all the Stars that thine in Southern Skies,
Had been admir'd by none but Salvage Eyes.

Among th' Aferters of free Reason's claim,
Our Nation's not the leaft in Worth or Fame.
The World to Bacon does not only owe
Its prefent Knowledge, but its future too.
Gilbert fhall live, till Load-ftones ceafe to draw,
Or British Fleets the boundless Ocean awe.
And noble Bayle, not lefs in Nature feen,
Than his great Brother read in States and Men.
The Circling Streams, once thought but Pools, of Blood
(Whether Life's Fewel, or the Body's Food)
From dark Oblivion Harvey's Name fhall fave;
While Ent keeps all the Honour that he gave.
Nor are You, Learned Friend, the least renown'd;
Whofe Fame, not circumfcrib'd with English Ground,
Flies like the nimble Journies of the Light;
And is, like that, unfpent too in its Flight.
Whatever Truths have been, by Art, or Chance,
Redeem'd from Error, or from Ignorance,
Thin in their Authors, (like rich Veins of Ore)
Your Works unite, and still discover more.
Such is the healing Virtue of your Pen,
To perfect Cures on Books, as well as Men.
Nor is this Work the leaft: You well may give
To Men new Vigour, who make Stones to live.
Through You, the Danes (their fhort Dominion loft)
A longer Conqueft than the Saxons boast. [found
STONE-HENG, once thought a Temple, you have
A Throne, where Kings, our earthly Gods, were crown'd,
Where by their wandring Subjects they were seen,
Joy'd with their Stature, and their Princely Meen.
Our Soveraign here above the reft might stand;
And here be chofe again to rule the Land.
These Ruins fhelter'd once His Sacred Head,
When He from Wor'fter's fatal Battel Aed;

Watch'd by the Genius of this Royal Place,
And mighty Visions of the Danish Race.
His Refuge then was for a Temple shown:
But, He reftor'd, 'tis now become a Throne.

T

The DREAM.

By the Earl of ROSCOMMON.

O the pale Tyrant, who to horrid Graves
Condemns fo many thousand helpless Slaves,
Ungrateful we do gentle Sleep compare;
Who, tho' his Victories as num'ious are,
Yet from his Slaves no Tribute does he take,
But woful Cares that load them while they wake.
When his foft Charms had eas'd my weary Sight
Of all the baneful Troubles of the Light;
Dorinda came divefted of the Scorn,

Which the unequall'd Maid so long had worn;,
How oft in vain had Love's great God eflay'd,
To tame the ftubborn Heart of that bright Maid
Yet fpight of all the Pride that fwells her Mind,
The humble God of Sleep can make her kind;
A rifing Blufh increas'd the Native Store
Of Charms that but too fatal were before.
Once more present the Vision to my view,
The fweet Illufion, gentle Fate, renew!
How kind, how lovely fhe; how ravisht 1!
Shew me, bleft God of Sleep, and let me die.

Upon the Death of the Earl of DUNDEE. By Mr. DRYDEN.

H laft and beft of Scots! who didft maintain

OH

Thy Country's Freedom, from a foreign Reign

New People fill the Land now thou art gone,

New Gods the Temples, and new Kings the Throne,
Scotland and Thee did each in other live;

Nor wou'dft thou her, nor cou'd fhe thee furvive.
Farewel, who dying didft fupport the State,
And cou'dft not fall but with thy Country's Fate.

The RAPTURE.

Yield, I yield, and can no longer flay

My eager Thoughts, that force themselves away.. Sure, none inspir'd, whose Heat tranfports 'em ftill Above their Reason, and beyond their Will, Can firm against the strong Impulse remain: Cenfure it felf were not fo sharp a Pain. Let vulgar Minds fubmit to vulgar Sway ;What Ignorance fhall think, or Malice fay, To me are Trifiles; if the knowing few, Who can fee Faults, but can forgive them too, Applaud that Genius which themselves partake, And fpare the Poet for the Mute's fake.

The Mufe who raifes me from humble. Ground,.
To view the vaft and various World around:
How fast I mount! In what a wond'rous way
1 grow tranfported to this large Survey!
I value Earth no more, and far below.
Methinks I fee the bufie figmies go;
My Soul entranc'd, is in a Rapture brought
Above the common Tracts of vulgar Thought.
With Fancy wing'd I feel the purer Air,
And with Contempṛ look down on Human Care
Airy Ambition, ever foaring high,
Standsneft expos'd to my cenforious Eye:
Behold 'em toiling up a flipp'iy Hill,

Where, tho' arriv'd, they must be :
Some, with unsteady Teet, juft fall
Others at top, whole reads are

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