STROPHE II.

When Athens finks by fates unjust,
When wild Barbarians fpurn her dust ;
Perhaps ev'n Britain's utmost fhore
Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore;
See Arts her favage fons control,

And Athens rifing near the pole!
Till fome new Tyrant lifts his purple hand,
And civil madness tears them from the land.
ANTIS TROPHE 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 every age, in every state!

Still, when the luft of tyrant power fucceeds,
Some Athens perifhes, fome Tully bleeds.

20

25

30

CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS.

SEMICHORUS.

H Tyrant Love! haft thou poffeft

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast ?

Wifdom and Wit in vain reclaim,

And Arts but foften us to feel thy flame.

Love, foft intruder, enters here,

But entering learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,
And Brutus tenderly reproves.

G 2

5

Why,

Why, Virtue, doft thou blame defire,

Which Nature has impreft?

Why, Nature, doft thou fooneft fire
The mild and generous breast?

CHORUS.

Love's

purer

flames the Gods approve;

10

The Gods and Brutus bend to Love:

Brutus for abfent Porcia fighs,

And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loofe love? a tranfient gust,

Spent in a fudden ftorm of luft,
A vapour fed from wild defire,
A wandering, felf-confuming fire.
But Hymen's kinder flames unite;
And burn for ever one ;

Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh fource of every social tye,

15

20

25

United with, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend?
Whether his hoary fire he fpies,

While thousand grateful thoughts arife;

30

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.

35

CHORUS.

CHORUS.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes,
Hence falfe tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes;

Fires that fcorch, yet dare not fhine:
Pureft love's unwafting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure;
Days of cafe, and nights of pleafure;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

ODE ON SOLITUDE.

45

Written when the Author was about Twelve Years old.

H

APPY the man, whofe wifh and care

A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread,

Whofe flocks fupply him with attire, Whofe trees in fummer yield him fhade, In winter fire.

Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years slide soft away,

In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day.

Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Together mix'd; fweet recreation;
And innocence, which moft does please

With meditation.

G 3

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I'lie.

O D E.

THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.

I.

VITAL fpark of heavenly flame!

Quit, oh quit this mortal frame :
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,

Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Ceafe, fond Nature, cease thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life.

II.

Hark! they whisper; Angels fay,
Sifter Spirit, come away.
What is this abforbs me quite?

Steals my fenfes, shuts my fight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

III.

The world recedes; it difappears!

20

5

10

Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears

With founds feraphic ring:

15

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!

O Grave! where is thy Victory?

O Death! where is thy Sting?

AN

AN

ESSAY

ΟΝ

CRITICISM.

Written in the Year M DCC IX*.

"Si quid novifti rectius iftis,

"Candidus imperti; fi non, his utere mecum."

HOR.

Mr. Pope told me himself, that the "Effay on "Criticifm" was indeed written in

1709 by mistake.

1707, though faid J. RICHARDSON.