Th' ideas and the images which lie
In his own fancy or his memory.

No, he before his fight must place
The natural and living face;

The real object must command

Each judgment of his eye and motion of his hand.

From these and all long errors of the way,
In which our wandering predeceffors went,
And, like th' old Hebrews, many years did stray,
In deferts but of fmall extent,

Bacon, like Mofes, led us forth at last :

The barren wilderness he past;

Did on the very border stand

Of the bleft promis'd land;

And, from the mountain's top of his exalted wit,
Saw it himself, and fhew'd us it.

But life did never to one man allow
Time to discover worlds and conquer too;

Nor can fo fhort a line fufficient be

To fathom the vast depths of Nature's fea.
The work he did we ought t' admire ;
And were unjust if we should more require
From his few years, divided 'twixt th' excess
Of low affliction and high happiness :
For who on things remote can fix his fight,
That's always in a triumph or a fight?

From you, great champions! we expect to get
These fpacious countries, but discover'd yet;

Countries,

Countries, where yet, instead of Nature, we
Her images and idols worship'd see :

These large and wealthy regions to fubdue,
Though Learning has whole armies at command,
Quarter'd about in every land,

A better troop fhe ne'er together drew :
Methinks, like Gideon's little band,
God with defign has pick'd out you,

To do those noble wonders by a few :
When the whole hoft he faw, "They are" (faid he)
"Too many to o'ercome for me;"

And now he choofes out his men,
Much in the way that he did then ;
Not thofe many whom he found
Idly' extended on the ground,
To drink with their dejected head

The ftream, juft fo as by their mouths it fled:
No; but thofe few who took the waters up,
And made of their laborious hands the cup.

Thus you prepar'd, and in the glorious fight
Their wondrous pattern too you take :
Their old and empty pitchers first they brake,
And with their hands then lifted up the light.
Io! found too the trumpets here!
Already your victorious lights appear;
New fcenes of heaven already we espy,

And crowds of golden worlds on high,

Which from the fpacious plains of earth and fea

Could never yet difcover'd be,

By failors' or Chaldeans' watchful eye.

Nature's

Nature's great works no distance can obfcure,
No fmallness her near objects can fecure ;
Y' have taught the curious fight to prefs
Into the privateft recefs

Of her imperceptible littleness!

Y' have learn'd to read her smallest hand,
And well begun her deepest fense to understand !

Mischief and true difhonour fall on thofe
Who would to laughter or to fcorn expofe
So virtuous and fo noble a defign,

So human for its use, for knowledge fo divine.
The things which these proud men defpife, and call

Impertinent, and vain, and small,

Those smallest things of nature let me know,
Rather than all their greatest actions do!
Whoever would depofed Truth advance

Into the throne ufurp'd from it,
Muft feel at first the blows of Ignorance,
And the fharp points of envious Wit.

So, when, by various turns of the celestial dance,
In many thousand years

A ftar, fo long unknown, appears,

Though heaven itself more beauteous by it grow,
It troubles and alarms the world below;

Does to the wife a ftar, to fools a meteor, fhow.

With courage

}

and fuccefs you the bold work begin;

Your cradle has not idle been :

None e'er, but Hercules and you, would be

At five years age worthy a history.

And

And ne'er did Fortune better yet Th' hiftorian to the story fit:

As you from all old errors free And purge the body of Philosophy;

So from all modern follies he

Has vindicated Eloquence and Wit.

His candid style like a clean stream does slide,
And his bright fancy, all the way,

Does like the fun-fhine in it play;

It does, like Thames, the best of rivers ! glide,
Where the God does not rudely overturn,

But gently pour, the crystal urn,

And with judicious hand does the whole current guide: 'T has all the beauties Nature can impart,

And all the comely drefs, without the paint, of Art.

UPON THE

CHAIR made out of Sir FRANCIS DRAKE'S SHIP, Prefented to the University Library of Oxford, by John Davis of Deptford, Efquire.

T O this great fhip, which round the globe has run,

And match'd in race the chariot of the fun,

This Pythagorean fhip (for it may claim
Without prefumption so deserv'd a name,
By knowledge once, and transformation now)
In her new shape, this facred port allow.

Drake and his fhip could not have wish'd from Fate
A more bleft station, or more blest estate;
For lo! a feat of endless rest is given
To her in Oxford, and to him in heaven.

PROLOGUE

To the CUTTER OF COLMAN STREET.

when the midland fea is no where clear

From dreadful fleets of Tunis and ArgierWhich coast about, to all they meet with foes, And upon which nought can be got but blows— The merchant-fhips fo much their paffage doubt, That, though full-freighted, none dares venture out, And trade decays, and fcarcity enfues :

Juft fo the timorous wits of late refuse,

Though laded, to put forth upon the stage,
Affrighted by the criticks of this age.

It is a party numerous, watchful, bold;

They can from nought, which fails in fight, with-hold;
Nor do their cheap, though mortal, thunder spare ;
They shoot, alas! with wind-guns charg'd with air.
But yet, gentlemen-criticks of Argier,

For your own interest I 'd advise ye here,
To let this little forlorn-hope go by

Safe and untouch'd. "That must not be" (you 'll cry.)
If ye be wife, it must; I'll tell you why.
There are feven, eight, nine—stay—there are behind
Ten plays at least, which wait but for a wind,

And