Obrazy na stronie
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No atoms cafually together hurl'd

Could e'er produce fo beautiful a world.
Nor dare I fuch a doctrine here admit,
As would deftroy the providence of wit.
'Tis your ftrong genius then which does not feel
Those weights, would make a weaker spirit reel.
To carry weight, and run fo lightly too,
Is what alone your Pegafus can do.

Great Hercules himself could ne'er do more,
Than not to feel those heavens and gods he bore.
Your easier odes, which for delight were penn'd,
Yet our inftruction make their second end:
We're both enrich'd and pleas'd, like them that woe
At once a beauty, and a fortune too.

Of moral knowlege poefy was queen,

And still she might, had wanton wits not been;
Who, like ill guardians, liv'd themselves at large,
And, not content with that, debauch'd their
charge.

Like fome brave captain, your fuccessful pen
Reftores the exil'd to her crown again:

And gives us hope, that having seen the days
When nothing flourish'd but fanatic bays,
All will at length in this opinion rest,
"A fober prince's government is best.”

This is not all; your art the way has found
To make th'improvement of the richest ground,
That foil which thofe immortal laurels bore,
That once the facred Maro's temples wore.
Elifa's griefs are fo express'd by you,
They are too eloquent to have been true.
Had the fo fpoke, Æneas had obey'd
What Dido, rather than what Jove had faid.
If funeral rites can give a ghoft repose,
Your mufe fo juftly has difcharged those,
Elifa's fhade may now its wandring cease,
And claim a title to the fields of peace.
But if Æneas be oblig'd, no lefs
Your kindness great Achilles doth confefs
Who, drefs'd by Statius in too bold a look,
Did ill become thofe virgin robes he took.
To understand how much we owe to you,
We must your numbers, with your author's, view:
Then we shall see his work was lamely rough,
Each figure ftiff, as if defign'd in buff:
His colors laid fo thick on every place,

;

As only fhew'd the paint, but hid the face.
But as in perfpective we beauties fee,
Which in the glafs, not in the picture, be;
So here our fight obligingly mistakes

That wealth, which his your bounty only makes.

Thus vulgar dishes are, by cooks disguis'd,

More for their dreffing, than their fubftance priz'd.

Your curious notes fo fearch into that age,

When all was fable but the facred page,
That, fince in that dark night we needs must stray,
We are at least misled in pleasant way.

But what we moft admire, your verse no less
The prophet than the poet doth confefs.

Ere our weak eyes difcern'd the doubtful streak
Of light, you faw great Charles his morning break.
So fkilful feamen ken the land from far,
Which fhews like mifts to the dull paffenger.
To Charles your mufe first pays her duteous love,
As ftill the antients did begin from Jove.
With Monk you end, whofe name preferv'd fhall be,
As Rome recorded Rufus' memory,

Who thought it greater honor to obey

His country's intereft, than the world to fway.
But to write worthy things of worthy men,
Is the peculiar talent of your pen:
Yet let me take your mantle up, and I
Will venture in your right to prophefy.
"This work, by merit first of fame secure,
"Is likewife happy in its geniture:

"For, fince 'tis born when Charles afcends the

throne,

"It shares at once his fortune and its own."

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Learned and Ufeful WORKS; but more particularly his Treatife of STONE-HENGE, by him reftor'd to the true Founder.

'HE longeft tyranny that ever fway'd,

THE

Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagyrite, And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one fupply'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate. Still it was bought, like emp'ric wares, or charms, Hard words feal'd up with Ariftotle's arms. Columbus was the firft that shook his throne; And found a temp'rate in a torrid zone :

The fev'rish air fann'd by a cooling breeze,
The fruitful vales set round with shady trees;
And guiltless men, who danc'd away their time,
Fresh as their groves, and happy as their clime.
Had we still paid that homage to a name,

Which only God and nature justly claim;
The western feas had been our utmost bound,
Where poets ftill might dream the fun was drown'd:
And all the stars that shine in fouthern fkies,
Had been admir'd by none but favage eyes.
Among th' afferters of free reafon's claim,
Our nation's not the leaft in worth or fame.
The world to Bacon does not only owe
Its present knowlege, but its future too.
Gilber shall live, 'till loadstones cease to draw,
Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not less in nature seen,

Than his great brother read in states and men. The circling ftreams, once thought but pools, of blood

(Whether life's fuel, or the body's food)

From dark oblivion Harvey's name shall fave; While Ent keeps all the honor that he gave. Nor are you, learned friend, the leaft renown'd; Whose fame, not circumfcrib'd with English ground,

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