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Earth's diftant ends our glory fhall behold,
And the new world launch forth to feek the old.
Then fhips of uncouth form shall stem the tide,
And feather'd people crowd my wealthy fide,
And naked youths and painted chiefs admire,
Our speech, our colour, and our strange attire!
Oh, ftretch thy reign, fair peace! from fhore to fhore,
Till conqueft cease, and flavery be no more;
Till the freed Indians in their native groves
Reap their own fruits, and woo their fable loves;
Peru once more a race of kings behold,
And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold.
Exil'd by thee from earth to deepest hell,
In brazen bonds fhall barbarous difcord dwell;
Gigantic pride, pale terror, gloomy care,
And mad ambition, fhall attend her there :
There purple vengeance bath'd in gore retires,
Her weapons blunted, and extin&t her fires :


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There hateful envy her own fnakes fhall feel,
And perfecution mourn her broken wheel: 420
There faction roar, rebellion bite her chain,
And gafping furies thirst for blood in vain.
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhallow'd

Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days:
The thoughts of gods let Granville's verse recite,
And bring the scenes of opening fate to light :
My humble mufe, in unambitious strains,
Paints the green forefts and the flowery plains,
Where peace defcending bids her olive spring,
And scatters bleffings from her dove-like wing.
Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless days,
Pleas'd in the filent fhade with empty praise ;
Enough for me, that to the listening fwains
First in these fields I fung the Sylvan straim,





Descend, ye nine! descend, and sing;
The breathing inftruments inspire;
Wake into voice each filent ftring,
And sweep the founding lyre!

In a fadly-pleafing strain

Let the warbling lute complain;
Let the loud trumpet found,
Till the roofs all around

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By mufic, minds an equal temper know,
Nor fwell too high, nor fink too low.
If in the breaft tumultuous joys arise,
Mufic her soft, affuafive voice applies;

Or when the foul is prefs'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.
Warriors the fires with animated founds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds;
Melancholy lifts her head,
Morpheus roufes from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
Liftening envy drops her snakes;
Inteftine war no more our paffions wage,
And giddy factions hear away their rage.

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Tranfported demi-gods flood round, And men grew heroes at the found, Enfilam'd with glory's charms: Each chief his feven-fold fhield display'd, And half unfheath'd the shining blade: And feas, and rocks, and skies, rebound To arms, to arms, to arms!


But when through all th' infernal bounds, Which flaming Phlegeton furrounds,

Love, ftrong as death, the poets led
To the pale nations of the dead,
What founds were heard,
What scenes appear'd,
O'er all the dreary coasts!
Dreadful gleams,
Dismal screams,
Fires that glow,
Shrieks of woe,

Sullen moans,
Hollow groans,

And cries of tortur'd ghosts!
But hark! he strikes the golden lyre;
And fee! the tortur'd ghosts respire.
See, fhady forms advance!
Thy ftone, O Sifyphus, ftands ftill,
Ixion retts upon his wheel,

And the pale spectres dance!
The furies fink upon their iron beds,
And fnakes, uncurl'd, hang liftening round their



By the streams that ever flow, By the fragrant winds that blow O'er the Elyfian flowers; By thofe happy fouls who dwell In yellow meads of afphodel, Or amaranthine bowers; By the hero's armed fhades, Glittering through the gloomy glades; By the youths that dy'd for love, Wandering in the myrtle grove, Reftore, raftore Eurydice to life: Oh, take the husband, or return the wife!

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Mufic the fierceft grief can charm, And fate's feverest rage difarm: Mufic can soften pain to ease, And make defpair and madness please: Our joys below it can improve, And antedate the blifs above. This the divine Cecilia found,



YE fhades, where facred truth is fought;
Groves, where immortal fages taught;
Where heavenly vifions Plato fir'd,
And Epicurus lay infpir'd!
In vain your guiltless laurels food
Unfpotted long with human blood.
War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades,
And steel now glitters in the mufes fhades.


Oh, heaven-born fifters! fource of art!
Who charm the fenfe, or mend the heart;
Who lead fair virtue's train along,
Mortal truth and myftic fong!
To what new clime, what diftant fky,
Forfaken, friendless, shall ye fly?

And to her Maker's praise confin'd the found. When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, Th' immortal powers incline their ear; Borne on the fwelling notes our fouls aspire, While folemn airs improve the facred fire;

And angels lean from heaven to hear. Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell, To bright Cecilia greater power is given: His numbers rais'd a fhade from hell, Her's lift the foul to heaven.


Altered from Shakspeare by the Duke of Buckingham; at whofe defire these two Chorufes were compofed, to fupply as many, wanting in his play. They were fet many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-house.

Say, will ye blefs the bleak Atlantic fhore? Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more?


When Athens finks by fates unjust, When wild barbarians fpurn her duft; Perhaps ev'n Britain's utmost store Shall cease to blush with ftranger's gore; See arts her savage fons controul, And Athens rifing near the pole! Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand, And civil madness tears them from the land. ANTISTROPHE II.

Ye gods, what justice rules the ball!
Freedom and arts together fall;
Fools grant whate'er ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are flaves.
Oh, curs'd effects of civil hate,
In ev'ry age, in every state!

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Written when the Author was about Twelve Years old.
HAPPY the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.
Whofe herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whofe flocks fupply him with attire ;
Whose trees in fummer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years flide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which moft does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown;
Thus unlaniented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a ftone
Tell where I lie.

But Hymen's kinder flames unite,
And burn for ever one;
Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the fun.


Oh, fource of every focial tie,
United with, and mutual joy!
What various joys on one attend,
As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend!
Whether his hoary fire he spies,
While thousand grateful thoughts arise;
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye;
Or views his fmiling progeny;

What tender paffions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move!
His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
With reverence, hope, and love.


Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmises,
Hence falfe tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprises;

Fires that fcorch, yet dare not shine:
Pureft love's unwasting treasure,
Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure;
Days of eafe, and nights of pleasure;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

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Si quid neristi rectius iftis

Candidus imperti; fi non, his utere mecum.



INTRODUCTION. That 'tis as great a fault to judge
ill, as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to
the public, ver. I.

That a true Tafte is as rare to be found as a true
Genius, ver. 9 to 18.

That most men are born with some Tafte, but
fpoiled by falfe Education, ver. 19 to 25.
The multitude of Critics and caufes of them, ver.
26 to 45.

That we are to study our own Tafste, and know
the limits of it, ver. 46 to 67.

Nature the best guide of judgment, ver. 68 to 87.
Improved by Art and Rules, which are but ae-

thodized Nature, ver, 88.

Rules derived from the Practice of the Ancient
Poets, ver. 98 to 110.

That therefore the Ancients are necessary to be
ftudied by a Critic, particularly Homer and
Virgil, ver. 120 to 138.

Of Licences, and the use of them by the Ancients,
ver. 140 to 180.
Reverence due to the Ancients, and praise of them,
ver. 181, &c.


PART II. Ver. 203, &c.
Caufes hindring a true Judgment. 1. Pride, ver.
208. 2. Imperfect Learning, ver. 215. 3.
Judging by parts, and not by the whole, ver.

233 to 288, Critics in Wit, Language, Versi-
fication, only, 288, 305, 339, &c. 4. Being
too hard to pleafe, or too apt to admire, ver.
384. 5. Partiality-too much love to a Sect,-
to the Ancients or Moderns, ver. 394. 6. Pre-
judice or Prevention, ver. 408. 7. Singularity,
ver. 424. 8. Inconftancy, ver. 430. 9. Party
Spirit, ver. 452, &c. 10. Envy, ver. 466. A-
gainst Envy, and in praife of Good-nature, vër.
508, &c. When Severity is chiefly to be used
by Critics, ver. 526, &c.

PART III. Ver. 568, &c.
Rules for the Conduct of Manners in a Critic. 1.
Candour, ver. 563. Modefty, ver. 556. Good-
breeding, ver. $72. Sincerity and Freedom of
Advice, ver. 578. 2. When one's Counsel is
to be reftrained, ver. 584. Character of an in-
corrigible Poet, ver. 600; and of an impertinent
Critic, ver. 610, &c. Character of a good Cri-
tic, ver. 629. The Hiftory of Criticism, and
Characters of the beft Critics: Ariftotle, ver.
645. Horace, ver. 653. Dionyfius, ver. 665.
Petronius, ver. 667. Quintilian, ver. 670.
Longinus, ver. 675. Of the Decay of Criti-
cifm, and its Revival. Erafmus, ver. 693. Vi-
da, ver. 705. Boileau, ver. 714. Lord Rof-
common, &c, ver. 725. Conclufion.

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