If after all they stand suspected still,
(For no man's faith depends upon his will ;)
'Tis fome relief, that points not clearly known,
Without much hazard may be let alone :
And after hearing what our Church can say,
If ftill our reafon runs another way,
That private reason 'tis more just to curb,
Than by disputes the public peace disturb.
For points obfcure are of small use to learn:
But common quiet is mankind's concern.

446

450

Thus have I made my own opinions clear: Yet neither praise expect, nor cenfure fear: And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chose, As fitteft for difcourfe, and nearest profe: For while from facred truth I do not fwerve, 455 Tom Sternhold's, or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will ferve.

Ver. 451. my own opinions clear :] All the arguments which Dryden has here put together in defence of revelation, muft appear ftale and trite to us, who fince his time have had the happiness of reading fuch treatifes as Clarke on the Attributes, Butler's Analogy, Berkley's Alciphron, Bishop Sherlock's Sermons, Watfon's Apology, Hurd on Prophecy, Soame Jennyns' Treatifes, Jortin's Difcourfes, Paley's Evidences, and Lardner's Credibility. Dr. J. WARTON.

Ver. 453. rugged verfe] An old expreffion. Thus in P. Fletcher's Pifc. Eclogues, edit. 1633, p. 19 :— "Time is my foe, and hates my rugged rimes.”

And Fletcher adopted it from Spenfer.

TODD.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS:

A

FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM,

SACRED TO THE HAPPY MEMORY OF KING

CHARLES II.

I.

THUS long my grief has kept me dumb: Sure there's a lethargy in mighty woe, Tears ftand congeal'd, and cannot flow; And the fad foul retires into her inmoft room:

Ver. 1. Thus long my grief] The following juft, though fevere fentence, has been paffed on this Threnodia, by one who was always willing, if poffible, to extenuate the blemishes of our poet. "Its firft and obvious defect is the irregularity of its metre, to which the ears of that age, however, were accustomed. What is worse, it has neither tenderness nor dignity; it is neither magnificent nor pathetic. He feems to look round him for images which he cannot find, and what he has, he distorts by endeavouring to enlarge them. He is, he fays, petrified with grief, but the marble relents, and trickles in a joke. There is throughout the compofition a defire of fplendour without wealth. In the conclufion, he feems too much pleafed with the profpect of the new reign, to have lamented his old mafter with much fincerity." Dr. Johnson.

Dr. J. WARTON.

Tears, for a stroke foreseen, afford relief; 5
But, unprovided for a fudden blow,
Like Niobe we marble grow;

And petrify with grief.

Our British heaven was all ferene,
No threatning cloud was nigh,
Not the leaft wrinkle to deform the sky;
We liv'd as unconcern'd and happily
As the firft age in nature's golden scene;
Supine amidst our flowing store,

10

15

We slept fecurely, and we dreamt of more: When suddenly the thunder-clap was heard, It took us unprepar'd and out of guard, Already loft before we fear'd.

The amazing news of Charles at once were fpread,

At once the general voice declar'd,

"Our gracious prince was dead."

No fickness known before, no flow disease,
To foften grief by just degrees :

But like an hurricane on Indian feas,
The tempeft rofe;

An unexpected burft of woes:

With scarce a breathing space betwixt,
This now becalm'd, and perishing the next.

Ver. 22. No fickness known before,] Original edition.

20

25

As if great Atlas from his height
Should fink beneath his heavenly weight,
And with a mighty flaw, the flaming wall
(As once it fhall,)

30

Should gape immenfe, and rushing down, o'erwhelm this nether ball;

So fwift and fo furprising was our fear:
Out Atlas fell indeed; but Hercules was near.

II.

His pious brother, sure the best

Who ever bore that name,

Was newly rifen from his reft,

And, with a fervent flame,

His ufual morning vows had just addreft

For his dear fovereign's health;
And hop'd to have them heard,

In long increase of

years,

In honour, fame, and wealth:

36

40

44

Guiltlefs of greatnefs thus he always pray'd,
Nor knew nor wifh'd thofe vows he made,
On his own head should be repay'd.
Soon as the ill-omen'd rumour reach'd his ear,
(Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,)
Who can defcribe the amazement of his face!
Horror in all his pomp was there,

Mute and magnificent without a tear:
And then the hero first was feen to fear.

51

Half unarray'd he ran to his relief,

55

So hafty and fo artless was his grief: Approaching greatness met him with her

charms

Of power and future state;

But look'd fo ghaftly in a brother's fate,
He shook her from his arms.

Arriv'd within the mournful room, he faw
A wild distraction, void of awe,
And arbitrary grief unbounded by a law.
God's image, God's anointed lay
Without motion, pulfe, or breath,
A fenfeless lump of facred clay,
An image now of death.

Amidft his fad attendants' groans and cries,
The lines of that ador'd forgiving face,
Distorted from their native grace;

An iron flumber fat on his majestic eyes.
The pious duke-Forbear, audacious muse,
No terms thy feeble art can use

60

65

70

Ver. 70. An iron flumber fat on his majestic eyes.] From Virgil, Æn. x. 745.

Olli dura quies oculos et ferreus urget
Somnus, &c.

See Sir P. Sidney's Arcadia, Lib. iii. "But with that Argalus came out of his found, and lifting vp his languishing eyes (which a painefull reft and IRON fleep did feeke to lock_vp) feeing her, &c."

TODD.