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Candid to all, but to himself severe,


In Humour pliant, as in Life austere.
A wise Content his even Soul secur'd,
By Want not shaken, nor by Wealth allur’d.
To all sincere, tho' earneft to commend,
Could praise a Rival, or condemn a Friend.
To him old Greece and Rome were fully known.
Their Tongues, their Spirits, and their Styles his
Pleas'd the least steps of famous Men to view,
Our Authors Works,and Lives,and Souls he knew;
Paid to the Learn'd and Great the same Esteem,
The one his Pattern, and the one his Theme:
With equal Judgment his capacious Mind
Warm Pindar's Rage, and Euclid's Reason joyn’d.
Judicious Physick’s noble Art to gain
All Drugs and Plants explor'd, alas in vain!
The Drugs and Plants their drooping Master faild,
Nor Goodness now, nor Learning ought avail'd;




Yet to the Bard his Churchill's Soul they gave, And made him fcorn the Life they could not fave;

Elfe could

he bear unmov'd the fatal Guest, The Weight that all his fainting Limbs opprest, TheCoughs that strugled from his weary Breaft? Could he unmov'd approaching Death sustain? Its flow Advances, and its racking Pain? Could he serene his weeping Friends survey, In his last Hours his easie Wit display, Like the rich Fruit he sings, delicious in decay?

Once on thyFriends look down,lamentedShade, And view the Honours to thy Ashes paid; Some thy lov'd Dust in Parian Stones enshrine, Others immortal Epitaphs defign; With Wit,andStrength that only yields to thine:

Even I, though flow to touch the painful String,
Awake from Slumber, and attempt to sing.
Thee, Philips, thee despairing Vaga mourns,
And gentle Isis soft Complaints returns;
Dormer laments amidst the Wars Alarms,
And Cecil weeps in beauteous Tufton's Arms:
Thee on the Po kind Somer fet deplores,
And ev’n that charming Scene his Grief restores:
He to thy Lofs each mournful Air applies,
Mindful of thee on huge Taburnus lies,
But most at Virgil's Tomb his fwelling Sorrows


But you, his darling Friends, lament no more, Display his Fame, and not his Fate deplore ; And let no Tears from erring Pity flow, For One that's bleft above, immortaliz'd below.

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A M.


Fifth Elegy of the Third Book of

Ovid's AMOURS.



Was in the midst, and silent dead of Night,

[Sight, When heavy Sleep oppress’d my weary This Vision did my troubled Mind affright. To Sol expos’d there stood a rising Ground, Which cast beneath a spacious Shade around; A gloomy Grove of spreading Oaks below, And yarious Birds were perch'd on ev'ry Bough:

Just Just on the Margin of a Verdant Mead,

Where murmuring Brooks refreshing Waters
To thun the Heat I fought this cool Recess;
But in this Shade I felt my Heat no less:
When browzing o'er the Flowry Grass appear'd
A lovely Cow, the fairest of the Herd;
By spotless White distinguish'd from the rest;
Whiter than Milk from her own Udders prest,
Whiter than falling, or, the driven Snow,
Before descending Mists can make it flow.
She with a lusty Bull, her happy Mate,
Delighted, on the tender Herbage fate;
There,as he crops the Flowers,and chews the Cud,
Feasting a second Time upon his Food,
His Limbs with sudden Heaviness oppress'd,
He bends his Head, and sinks to pleasing Rest.
A noisie Crow, cleaving the liquid Air,
Thrice with lewd Bill peck'd offthe Heifer's Hair ;

M 3



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