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But by magnanimous disdain.

A wit that, temperately bright,
With inoffenfive light

All pleafing fhone; nor ever paft

The decent bounds that Wifdom's fober hand,
And fweet Benevolence's mild command,
And bafhful Modefty, before it caft.
A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'd,
That nor too little nor too much believ'd,
That scorn'd unjust Suspicion's coward fear,
And without weakness knew to be fincere.
Such Lucy was, when, in her faireft days,
Amidst th' acclaim of univerfal praife,
In life's and glory's fresheft bloom,

Death came remorseless on, and funk her to the tomb.

So, where the filent ftreams of Liris glide,
In the foft bofom of Campania's vale,
When now the wintery tempefts all are fled,
And genial Summer breathes her gentle gale,
The verdant orange lifts its beauteous head :
From every branch the balmy flowerets rife,
On every bough the golden fruits are feen;
With odours fweet it fills the fmiling fkies,
The wood-nymphs tend it, and th' Idalian queen.
But, in the midst of all its blooming pride,
A fudden blaft from Apenninus blows,

Cold with perpetual fnows:

The tender blighted plant fhrinks up its leaves, and dies.


XIV. Arife,


Arife, O Petrarch, from th' Elysian bowers,
With never-fading myrtles twin'd,

And fragrant with ambrofial flowers,
Where to thy Laura thou again art join'd;

Arife, and hither bring the filver lyre,
Tun'd by thy fkilful hand,

To the foft notes of elegant defire,
With which o'er many a land

Was spread the fame of thy disastrous love;
To me refign the vocal fhell,

And teach my forrows to relate
Their melancholy tale fo well,

As may ev'n things inanimate,

Rough mountain oaks and defart rocks, to pity move.

What were, alas! thy woes compar'd to mine?
To thee thy miftrefs in the blissful band

Of Hymen never gave her hand;

The joys of wedded love were never thine.

In thy domestic care

She never bore a share,

Nor with endearing art

Would heal thy wounded heart

Of every fecret grief that fefter'd there:

Nor did her fond affection on the bed
Of sickness watch thee, and thy languid head
Whole nights on her unwearied arm fuftain,
And charm away the fenfe of pain:
Nor did the crown your mutual flame

With pledges dear, and with a father's tender name.

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O beft of wives! O dearer far to me
Than when thy virgin charms,
Were yielded to my arms,

How can my foul endure the lofs of thee?
How in the world, to me a defart grown,

Abandon'd and alone,

Without my sweet companion can I live?
Without thy lovely fmile,

The dear reward of every virtuous toil,

What pleasures now can pall'd Ambition give? Ev'n the delightful fenfe of well-earn'd praise, Unfhar'd by thee, no more my lifelefs thoughts could raife.


For my diftracted mind

What fuccour can I find?

On whom for confolation fhall I call?

Support me, every friend;

Your kind affiftance lend,

To bear the weight of this oppreffive wor.
Alas! each friend of mine,

My dear departed love, fo much was thine,
That none has any comfort to bestow.

My books, the best relief

In every other grief,

Are now with your idea fadden'd all :

Each favourite author we together read

My tortur'd memory wounds, and fpeaks of Lucy dead.



We were the happiest pair of human kind:
The rolling year its varying courfe perform'd,
And back return'd again;
Another and another fmiling came,

And faw our happiness unchang'd remain :
Still in her golden chain

Harmonious Concord did our wishes bind:
Our ftudies, pleasures, tafte, the fame.
O fatal, fatal ftroke,

That all this pleafing fabric Love had rais'd
Of rare felicity,

On which ev'n wanton Vice with envy gaz'd,
And every scheme of blifs our hearts had form'd,
With foothing hope, for many a future day,

In one fad moment broke!

Yet, O my foul, thy rifing murmurs stay ;
Nor dare the all-wife Difpofer to arraign,
Or against his fupreme decree.

With impious grief complain.

That all thy full-blown joys at once should fade; Was his most righteous will-and be that will obey'd.


Would thy fond love his grace to her control,

And in thefe low abodes of fin and pain

Her pure exalted foul

Unjustly for thy partial good detain ?

No-rather strive thy groveling mind to raise

Up to that unclouded blaze,


That heavenly radiance of eternal light,
In which enthron'd fhe now with pity fees
How frail, how infecure, how flight,
Is every mortal blifs;

Ev'n Love itself, if rifing by degrees
Beyond the bounds of this imperfect state,
Whose fleeting joys fo foon must end,
It does not to its fovereign good afcend.
Rife then, my foul, with hope elate,
And feek thofe regions of ferene delight,
Whofe peaceful path and ever-open gate
No feet but thofe of harden'd Guilt fhall mifs.
There death himself thy Lucy fhall restore,
There yield up all his power e'er to divide you more.





MADE to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes ;

Though meek, magnanimous; though witty,

Polite, as all her life in courts had been;
Yet good, as the the world had never feen;
The noble fire of an exalted mind,
With gentle female tenderness combin'd.
Her fpeech was the melodious voice of Love,
Her fong the warbling of the vernal grove;


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