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Daily devours apace; and nothing fed,
But that two-handed engine at the door,
Stands ready to fmite once, and fmite no more.
Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past
That fhrunk thy ftreams; return, Sicilian muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither caft
Their bells, and flourets of a thousand hues. 135
Ye valleys low, where the milde whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the fwart ftar sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,
That on the green turf fuck the honied showres,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowres ; 141
Bring the rathe primrose that forfaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale geffamine,
The white pink, and the panfie fret with jeat,
The glowing violet,
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The mufk-rofe, and the well attir'd woodbine,
With cowflips wan that hang the penfive hed,
And every flower that fad embroidery wears ;
Bid Amaranthus all his beauty fhed,

And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To ftrow the laureat herse where Lycid lies:
For fo to interpose a little ease,

Let our frail thoughts dally with false furmise.
Ay me! whilft thee the fhores and founding feas
Wash far away, whereere thy bones are hurl'd,
Whether beyond the ftormy Hebrides,

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Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
Vifit'ft the bottom of the monftrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moift vows deny'd,
Sleep'ft by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great vifion of the guarded mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold;
Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye dolphins, waft the haples youth.

Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas your forrow is not dead,
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Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar;
So finks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning fky: 171
So Lycidas funk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the

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waves,

Where other groves, and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpreffive nuptial fong,
In the bleft kingdoms meek of joy and love;
There entertain him all the faints above,
In folemn troops and sweet societies,
That fing, and finging in their glory move, 180
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the fhepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore,

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In thy large recompenfe, and fhalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood. 185
Thus fang the uncouth fwain to th❜oakes and
rills,

While the ftill morn went on with fandals gray,
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay:
And now the fun had ftretch'd out all the hills,
And now was dropt into the western bay;
At last he rofe, and twitch'd his mantle blew :
Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

191

SONNE T.

BY THE SAME.

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warbl'ft at eeve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lovers heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May, Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, 5

First heard before the fhallow cuccoo's bill Portend fuccefs in love; O, if Jove's will Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay,

Now timely fing, ere the rude bird of hate
Foretell my hopeles doom in fom grove ny: 10
As thou from yeer to yeer haft fung too late
For my relief; yet hadft no reason why:

Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I ferve, and of their train am I.

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MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

BY SAMUEL BUTLER.

SHOULD once the world refolve t'abolish

All that's ridiculous and foolish,
It would have nothing left to do,
T'apply in jeft or earnest to,
No bufinefs of importance, play,
Or ftate, to pass its time away.

Who doth not know with what fierce
Opinions, true or false, engage;
And, 'cause they govern all mankind,
Like the blind's leading of the blind,
All claim an equal interest,

And free dominion, o'er the rest.
And, as one fhield that fell from heaven
Was counterfeited by eleven,

rage

The better to fecure the fate
And lasting empire of a state,
The falfe are numerous, and the true,
That only have the right, but few.
Hence fools, that understand them leaft,
Are ftill the fierceft in contest;

*Born 1612; died 1680.

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