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Are thofe dear proofs of heaven's indulgence vain,
Reftoring David and his gentle reign?

Is it in vain thou all the goods doft know,

Auspicious stars on mortals fhed below,

While all thy ftreams with milk, thy lands with honey

flow?

No more, fond ifle! no more thyself engage

In civil fury, and intestine rage:

No rebel zeal thy duteous land moleft,

But a finooth calm foothe every peaceful breaft.
While in fuch charming notes divinely fings

The best of poets, of the best of kings.

J. ADAMS.

To Mr. DRYDEN, on his RELIGIO LAICI.

THOSE Gods the pious ancients did adore,
They learnt in verfe devoutly to implore,

Thinking it rude to use the common way
Of talk, when they did to fuch beings pray.
Nay, they that taught religion firft, thought fit
In verfe its facred precepts to tranfmit:
So Solon too did his firft ftatutes draw,
And every little ftanza was a law.
By these few precedents we plainly fee
The primitive design of poetry;
Which, by restoring to its native use,

You generously have refcued from abuse.
Whilft

your lov'd Mufe does in fweet numbers fing, She vindicates her God, and godlike king.

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Atheist, and rebel too, she does oppose

(God and the king have always the fame foes).
Legions of verfe you raise in their defence,
And write the factious to obedience;
You the bold Arian to arms defy,

A conquering champion for the Deity
Against the whigs firft parents, who did dare
To difinherit God-Almighty's heir.

And what the hot-brain'd Arian first began,
Is carried on by the Socinian,

Who ftill affociates to keep God a man.

But 'tis the prince of poets' task alone

T'affert the rights of God's and Charles's throne.
Whilft vulgar poets purchase vulgar fame

By chaunting Chloris' or fair Phyllis' name;

Whofe reputation shall last as long,

As fops and ladies fing the amorous fong.

A nobler fubject wifely they refufe,

The mighty weight would crush their feeble Mufe.
So, story tells, a painter once would try
With his bold hand to limn a deity :
And he, by frequent practifing that part,

Could draw a minor-god with wondrous art:
But when great Jove did to the workman fit,
The thunderer fuch horror did beget,
That put the frighted artist to a stand,
And made his pencil drop from 's baffled hand.

}

To

To Mr. DRYDEN, upon his Tranflation of the Third Book of VIRGIL'S GEORGICKS.

A PINDARIC ODE.

By Mr. JOHN DENNIS.

WHILE mounting with expanded wings

The Mantuan fwan unbounded heaven explores,

While with feraphic founds he towering fings,
Till to divinity he foars :

Mankind ftands wondering at his flight,
Charm'd with his mufick, and his height:
Which both transcend our praise.
Nay Gods incline their ravifh'd ears,
And tune their own harmonious spheres,
To his melodious lays.

Thou, Dryden, canft his notes recite
In modern numbers, which express
Their mufick, and their utmost might:
Thou, wondrous poet, with fuccefs
Canft emulate his flight.

II.

Sometimes of humble rural things,
Thy Mufe, which keeps great Maro still in fight,
In middle air with varied numbers fings;
And fometimes her fonorous flight

To heaven fublimely wings.

But first takes time with majesty to rise,
Then, without pride, divinely great,
She mounts her native fkies;
And, Goddefs like, retains her state
When down again the flies.

Com

Commands, which judgment gives, fhe ftill obeys,
Both to deprefs her flight, and raise.

Thus Mercury from heaven defcends,
And to this under world his journey bends,
When Jove his dread commands has given:
But, ftill, defcending, dignity maintains,
As much a God upon our humble plains,
As when he, towering, re-ascends to heaven.

III.

But when thy Goddess takes her flight, With fo much majefty, to fuch a height, As can alone fuffice to prove,

That the defcends from mighty Jove :

Gods! how thy thoughts then rife, and foar, and fhine! Immortal spirit animates each line;

Each with bright flame that fires our fouls is crown'd, Each has magnificence of found,

And harmony divine.

Thus the first orbs, in their high rounds,
With fhining pomp advance ;

And to their own coeleftial founds

Majestically dance.

On, with eternal fymphony, they roll,

Each turn'd in its harmonious course,

And each inform'd by the prodigious force
Of an empyreal foul.

CON

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