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Peace, Chloris! peace! our singing die;
To heavỏn máy to:
Say, lovely Dream! where couldst thou find
Shades to counterfeit that face? Colours of this glorious kind
Come not from any mortal place. In heav'n itself thou sure wert drest
: With that angel - like disguise: Thus deluded him I blest,
And see my joy with closed eyes.
Fair Dream! I thou intend'st me grace,
*Change that heav'nly face of thine; Paint despis'd love in thy face,
And make it t'appear like mine. Pale, wan, and meagre, let it look,
With a pity-moving shape, Such as wapder by the brook
Of Lethe, or from graves escape. Then to that matchless nymph appear,
In whose shape thou shinest so; Softly in her sleeping ear,
With bumble words express my woe
Thus surprised she may fall:
4) To A MORB T.
air! that you may truly know,
Joy salutes me, when I set
If sweet Amoret complains ,
All that of myself is mine,
If the soul had free election,
If not a love, a strong desire,
'Tis amazement more than love Which her radiant
would turn my dazzled sight,
Anioret! as sweet as good,
Which but' tasted does impart
Sacharissa's beauty's wine,
Scarce can I to heav'n excuse'
Then smile on me, and I'will prove,
5) UPON THE
THE LORD PROTECTOR. We must resign! Heav'n his great soul does claim In storms, as loud as his immortal fame: His dying groans, his last breath, shakes our isle, And trees uncut fall for bis fun'ral pile; About bis palace their broad roots are tost Into the air. So Romulus was lost! New Rome in such a tempest miss'd her king, And from obeying fell to worshipping. On Oeta's top thus Hercules lay dead, With ruin'd oaks and pines about him spread. The poplar, too, whose bough he wont to wear On his victorious head, lav prostrate there. Those his last fury from the mountain rent: Our dying hero from the continent Ravish'd whole towns, and forts from Spaniards reft As his last legacy to Britain left. The ocean, which so long our hopes confin'd, Could give no limits to his vaster inind; Our bound's enlargement was his latest roil,
Nor hath he left us pris'ners to our isle:
of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
Ungrateful then! if we no tears allow
D R Y D E N.
Biographische und literarische Nachrichten von diesem berühmten Dichter, s. im ersten Theil dieses Handbachs S. 29. ü. ff. In der Andersonschen Dichtersammlung stehen sei. ne Werke im 6ten Theil, (die Übersetzung des Persius, Juvenal und Hor az im 12ten); in der Bellschen Ausgabe nehmen sie den 4osten bis 42sten Band ein.
1) TO TAL PIOUS MEMORY OF THE ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY
MRS. Arne KILLEG REW, EXCELLENT IN THB TWO $I-
Or, in procession fix'd and regular,
Mov'd with the heaven majestic pace;
Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
In no ignoble verse;
While yet a young probationer,
And candidate of heaven.
Our wonder is the less to find
But if thy pre-existing soul
Was forin'd, at first, with myriads more, It did through all the mighty poets roll,
Who Greek or Latin laurels wore, And was that Sappho last, which once it was before.
If so, then cease thy flight, О heaven-born mind! Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore: Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find,
Than was the beauteous frame she left behind: Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celestial kind,
Strung eachi his lyre, and tụn'd it high,