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And all who since, in mild benighted days,
Mix'd the owl's ivy with the poet's bays. 54
As man's meanders to the vital spring


Roll all their tides, then back their circles bring;
Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful swain,
Suck the thread in, then yield it out again;
All nonsense this, of old or modern date,
Shall in thee centre, from thee circulate.
For this our Queen unfolds to vision true
Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view:
Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind,
Shall, first recall'd, rush forward to thy mind:
Then stretch thy sight o'er all her rising reign,
And let the past and future fire thy brain.

'Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point commands Her boundless empire over seas and lands. See, round the poles where keener spangles shine, Where spices smoke beneath the burning line, (Earth's wide extremes) her sable flag display'd, And all the nations cover'd in her shade!

'Far eastward cast thine eye, from whence the sun And orient science their bright course begun :


54 Mix'd the owl's ivy with the poet's bays.]

Sine tempora circum

Inter victrices ederam tibi serpere lauros.'


61, 62 For this our Queen unfolds to vision true

Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to view.]

This has a resemblance to that passage in Milton, Book XI. where the angel

'To noble sights from Adam's eye remov'd

The film; then purg'd with euphrasie and rue

The visual nerve-For he had much to see.'

There is a general allusion in what follows to that whole episode.

One godlike monarch all that pride confounds,
He whose long wall the wandering Tartar bounds:
Heavens! what a pile! whole ages perish there,
And one bright blaze turns learning into air.


Thence to the south extend thy gladden'd eyes; There rival flames with equal glory rise;

From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan roll,
And lick up all their physic of the soul.

'How little, mark! that portion of the ball,
Where, faint at best, the beams of science fall:
Soon as they dawn, from hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of Vandals rise!
Lo! where Mæotis sleeps, and hardly flows
The freezing Tanais through a waste of snows,
The north by myriads pours her mighty sons,
Great nurse of Goths, of Alaus, and of Huns!
See Alaric's stern port! the martial frame
Of Genseric! and Attila's dread name!
See the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall ;
See the fierce Visigoths on Spain and Gaul!
See where the morning gilds the palmy shore
(The soil that arts and infant letters bore)
His conquering tribes the' Arabian prophet draws,
And saving Ignorance enthrones by laws!
See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep,
And all the western world believe and sleep!
'Lo! Rome herself, proud mistress now no more
Of arts, but thundering against heathen lore;
Her gray-hair'd synods damning books unread,
And Bacon trembling for his brazen head.
Padua, with sighs, beholds her Livy burn,
And ev'n the' Antipodes Virgilius mourn.
See the Cirque falls, the' unpillar'd temple nods,
Streets pav'd with heroes, Tyber chok'd with gods ;

Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove adorn,
And Pan to Moses lends his Pagan horn:
See graceless Venus to a virgin turn'd,
Or Phidias broken, and Apelles burn'd!
'Behold yon isle, by palmers, pilgrims trod,
Men bearded, bald, cowl'd, uncowl'd, shod, un-
Peel'd, patch'd, and piebald, linsey-woolsey bro-
Grave mummers! sleeveless some, and shirtless



That once was Britain-Happy! had she seen 117
No fiercer sons, had Easter never been.
In peace great goddess ever be ador'd;

How keen the war, if Dulness draw the sword!
Thus visit not thy own! on this bless'd age
O spread thy influence, but restrain thy rage.
'And see, my son! the hour is on its way
That lifts our goddess to imperial sway;
This favourite isle, long sever'd from her reign,
Dove-like, she gathers to her wings again.

Now look through fate! behold the scene she draws ! 127

What aids, what armies, to assert her cause!
See all her progeny, illustrious sight!
Behold, and count them, as they rise to light:


117, 118 Happy!-had Easter never been.]

⚫ Et fortunatam, si nunquam armenta fuitsent.* VIRG. Ecl. VI.

127, 129 Now look through fate!

See all her progeny, &c.]

Nunc age, Dardaniam prolem quæ deinde sequatur
'Gloria, qui maneant Itala de gente nepotes,

Illustres animas, nostrumque in nomen ituras,


As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie 131
In homage to the mother of the sky,
Surveys around her, in the bless'd abode,
An hundred sons, and every son a god :
Not with less glory mighty Dulness crown'd,
Shall take through Grub-Street her triumphant

And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once,
Behold an hundred sons, and each a dunce.
'Mark first that youth who takes the foremost
place, 139

And thrusts his person full into your face,
With all thy father's virtues bless'd, be born! '4'
And a new Cibber shall the stage adorn.

A second see, by meeker manners known,
And modest as the maid that sips alone;

From the strong fate of drams if thou get free, '45 Another Durfey, Ward! shall sing in thee.


131 As Berecynthia, &c.]

'Felix prole virum: qualis Berecynthia mater
Invehitur curru Phrygias turrita per urbes,
Læta deum partu, centum complexa nepotes,
Omnes cœlicolas, omnes supera alta tenentes."

139 Mark first that youth, &c.]


'Ille vides, pura juvenis qui nititur hasta,
Proxima sorte tenet lucis loca.'.


141 With all thy father's virtues bless'd, be born!] A manner of expression used by Virgil, Ecl. VIII. Nascere, præque diem veniens age, Lucifer."

As also that of patriis virtutibus, Ecl. IV.

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145 From the strong fate of drams if thou get free.]

si qua fata aspera rumpas,

Tu Marcellus eris!'


Thee shall each alehouse,. thee each gillhouse 147 mourn,

And answering ginshops sourer sighs return. 'Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark with



Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of law. 150
Lo, Popple's brow, tremendous to the town,
Horneck's fierce eye,andRoome's funereal frown. 152


149 Jacob. This gentleman is a son of a considerable malster of Romsey, in Hampshire, and bred to the law under a very eminent attorney: who, between his more laborions studies, has diverted himself with poetry. He is a great admirer of poets and their works, which has occasioned him to try his genius that way.-He has writ in prose the Lives of the Poets, Essays, and a great many lawbooks, Accomplished Conveyancer, Modern Justice, &c.' Giles Jacob of himself, Lives of Poets, vol. i. He very grossly, and unprovoked, abused in that book the author's friend, Mr. Gay.


152 Horneck-Roome.] These two were viralent partywriters, worthily coupled together, and, one would think, prophetically; since, after the publishing of this piece, the former dying, the latter succeeded him in honour and em ployment. The first was Philip Horneck, author of a Billingsgate paper called The High German Doctor. Edward Roome was son of an undertaker for funerals in FleetStreet, and writ some of the papers called Pasquin, where, by malicious inuendoes, he endeavoured to represent our author guilty of malevolent practices with a great man then under prosecution of parliament. Of this man was matle the following epigram:


147 Thee shall each alehouse, &c.]

Te nemus Augnitiæ, vitrea te Fucinus tinda,

Te liquidi flevere lacus.'


Virgil again, Ecl. X.


etiam lanri, etiam flevere myricæ,' &c.

duo fulmina belli

Scipiadas, cladem Libyæ!

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