I feel I feel th' attractive force

Of thy fuperiour foul,

My chariot flies her upward course,
The wheels divinely roll.

Now let me chide the mean affairs

And mighty toil of men,

How they grow gray in trifling cares
Or waste the motions of the fpheres
Upon delights as vain!


A puff of honour fills the mind,
And yellow duft is folid good;

Thus like the afs of favage kind

We fnuff the breezes of the wind

Or fteal the ferpent's food.

Could all the choirs

That charm the poles

But ftrike one doleful found

'Twould be employ'd to mourn our fouls, Sculs that were fram'd of fprightly fires In floods of folly drown'd.

Souls made of glory feek a brutal joy;

How they difclain their heav'nly birth,

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Melt their bright fubftance down with droffy earth,
And hate to be refin'd from that impure alloy !


Oft' has thy genius rous'd us hence


With elevated fong,



Bid us renounce this world of fenfe,
Bid us divide th' immortal prize
With the feraphick throng:

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And mufick of thy tongue.

Then let the worms of grov'ling mind

Round the fort joys of earthly kind

In reftiefs windings roam:

Howe hath an ample orb of foul

Where thining worlds of knowledge roll,
Where love, the centre and the pole,

Completes the heav'n at home.

The difappointment and relief.


VIRTUE, permit my fancy to impose

Upon my better pow'rs;

She cafts fweet fallacies on half our woes

And gilds the gloomy hours.

How cou'd we bear this tedious round

Of waning moons and rolling years,

Of flaming hopes and chilling fears,
If where no fov'reign cure appears
No opiates could be found?

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Young Doris, who nor guilt nor danger knows,

On the green margin stood,

Pleas'd with the golden bubbles as they rose,


And with more golden fands her fancy pav'd the flood;

Then fond to be entirely bleft,

And tempted by a faithlefs youth
As void of goodness as of truth,
She plunges in with heedlefs hafte
And rears the nether mud:

Darkness and naufeous dregs arife

O'er thy fair current Love, with large supplies
Of pain to tease the heart and forrow for the eyes.
The golden blifs that charm'd her fight

Is dafh'd, and drown'd, and loft;
A spark or glimm'ring streak at most
Shines here and there amidst the night,




Amidst the turbid waves, and gives a faint delight.

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Cheerful fhe fmiles upon her grifly form;
So fhines the fetting fun on adverse skies,
And paints a rainbow on the storm :
Anon fhe lets the fullen humour spend,
And with a virtuous book or friend
Beguiles th' unealy hours;
Wellcolouring ev'ry cross she meets
With heart ferene she fleeps and eats,

She spreads her board with fancy'd sweets,
And ftrows her bed with flow'rs.

The hero's fchool of morality.

THERON amongst his travels found
A broken ftatue on the ground,
And fearching onward as he went
He trac'd a ruin'd nonument :
Mould, mofs, and shades, had overgrown
The sculpture of the crumbling ftone,
Yet ere he pafs'd with much ado




He guefs'd and fpell'd out Sci-pi-o.

Enough," he cry'd; "I'll drudge no more

"In turning the dull Stoicks o'er :


"Let pedants wafle their hours of cafe

"To fweat all night at Socrates,

“And feed their boys with notes and rules,

"Those tedious recipes of schools

"To cure ambition; I can learn

"With greater ease the great concern


"Of mortals, how we may despise
"All the gay things below the ikies.
“Methinks a mould'ring pyramid
Says all that the old sages said:
"For me thefe fhatter'd tombs contain
"More morals than the Vatican.
"The duft of heroes caft abroad,
"And kick'd and trampled in the road,
"The relicks of a lofty mind,

That lately wars and crowns defign'd,
"Tofs'd for a jeft from wind to wind,
"Bid me be humble, and forbear
"Tall monuments of fame to rear,



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"Here his pale trunk and there his head.
"Great Pompey! while I meditate
"With folemn horrour thy fad fate,


"Thy carcass fcatter'd on the fhore,

5. Without a name, inftructs me more "Than my whole library before.

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