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ANTISTROPHE II.

Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball!
Freedom and Arts together fall;
Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves,
And men, once ignorant, are flaves.
Oh curs'd effects of civil hate,

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state!

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Still, when the luft of tyrant pow'r fucceeds,
Some Athens perishes, fome Tully bleeds.

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CHORUS of Youths and Virgins.

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SEMICHORUS.

H Tyrant Love! haft thou poffeft

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast?
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim,

And Arts but foften us to feel thy flame.
Love, foft intruder, enters here,

But entring learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blushes owns he loves,

And Brutus tenderly reproves.

Why, Virtue, doft thou blame desire,
Which Nature has impreft?

Why, Nature, doft thou fooneft fire
The mild and gen'rous breaft?

CHORUS.

Love's purer flames the Gods approve;

The Gods and Brutus bend to love:

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REMARK S.

VER. 9. Why Virtue, etc.] In allufion to that famous conceit of Guarini,

"Se il peccare è sì dolce, etc.

Brutus for abfent Porcia fighs,

And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loofe love? a tranfient gust,

Spent in a fudden storm of luft,

A

vapour fed from wild defire,

A wand'ring, felf-confuming fire.

But Hymen's kinder flames unite;

And burn for ever one;

Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light,

Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh fource of ev'ry focial tye,

United with, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend?
Whether his hoary fire he spies,

While thousand grateful thoughts arise;

Or meets his spouse's fonder eye;

Or views his smiling progeny;

What tender paffions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move?

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His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,

With rev'rence, hope, and love.

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CHORUS.

Hence guilty joys, diftastes, furmizes, Hence falfe tears, deceits, difguifes, Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine:

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Pureft love's unwasting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure,
Days of eafe, and nights of pleasure;
Sacred Hymen! these are thine".

REMARKS.

These two Chorus's are enough to fhew us his great talents for this fpecies of Poetry, and to make us lament he did not profecute his purpose in executing fome plans he had chalked out; but the Character of the Managers of Playhouses was what (he faid) foon determined him to lay afide all thoughts of that

nature.

ODE on SOLITUDE'.

H

APPPY the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,

Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks fupply him with attire,
Whose trees in fummer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years flide foft
In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day,

Sound fleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; fweet recreation:

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away,

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And innocence, which most does please

With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone

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Tell where I lie.

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This was a very early production of our Author, written at out twelve years old. P.

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