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If life Pygmalion's ivory favourite fir'd,
Sure fome enamour'd Godt his draught inspir’d!
Or, if you rashly caught Promethean flame,

IS
Shade the fweet theft, and mar the beauteous frame !
Yet if those cheering lights the prospect fly,
Ah! let no pleasing view the loss fupply.
Some dreary den, fome desert waste prepare,
Wild as my thoughts, or dark as my despair.

But still, my friend, still the sweet object stays,
Still stream your colours rich with Clio's rays !
Sure at each kindling touch your canvass glows !
Sure the full form, instinct with spirit, grows !
Let the dull artist puzzling rules explore,
Dwell on the face, and gaze the features o'er ;
You eye

the foul-there genuine nature find, You, through the meaning muscles, strike the mind.

Nor can one view such boundless power confine, All Nature opens to an art like thine ! Now rural scenes in fimple grandeur rise! Vales, hills, lawns, lakes, and vineyards feast our eyes, Now halcyon Peace a smiling aspect wears ! Now the red scene with war and ruin glares ! Here Britain's fleets o'er Europe's seas preside!

35 There long-lost cities rear their ancient pride; You from the grave can half redeem the sain, And bid great Julius charm the world again Mark out Pharsalia’s, mark out Munda’s fray, And image all the honours of the day.

40 But if new glories moft our warmth excite; If toils untry'd to noblelt aims invite;

Would

30

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you in envy'd pomp unrivald reign,
Oh, let Horatius graće the canvass plain !
His form might ev’n idolatry create,

45
In lineage, titles, wealth, and worth elate !
Empires to him might virgin honours owe,
From him arts, arms, and laws, new influence know.
For him kind suns on fruits and grains shall shine,
And future gold lie ripening in the mine : 50
For him fine marble in the quarry lies,
Which, in due statues, to his fame shall rise.
Through those bright features Cæsar's spirit trace,
Each conquering sweetness, each imperial grace,
All that is fofi, or eininently great,

55 In love, in war, in knowledge, or in state.

Thus shall your colours, like his worth
Thus shall you charm, enrich'd with Clio's praise !
Clear, and more clear, your golden genius shines,
While

my dim lamp of life obscure declines : 60 Dulld in damp thades, it wastes, unseen, away, While yours, triumphant; grows one blaze of day.

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V E R S E S

SENT

TO

AARON HILL, ESQ.

With the TRAGEDY of Sir THOMAS OVBR

BURY, expecting him to correct it.

I. As the soul

, fript of mortal clay,

Giows all divinely fair,
And boundless roves the milky way,
And views sweet prospects there,

II.
This hero, clogg'd with droffy lines,

By thee new vigour tries;
As thy correcting hand refines,
Bright scenes around him rise.

III.
Thy touch brings the with'd stone te passy

So fought, so long foretold;
It turns polluted lead or brass,

At once to purelt gold.

PRO.

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN AT THE REVIVAL OF

SHAKESPEARE's KING HENRY THE SIXTH,

At the THEATRE-ROYAL in DRURY-Lane.

1

Printed before the Play from a spurious Copy.

TO;
TO-night a patient ear, ye Britons lend,

And to your great forefathers' deeds attend.
Here, cheaply warnd, ye blelt descendants view,
What ills on England, Civil Discord drew.
To wound the heart, the martial Muse prepares ; 5
While the red scene with raging slaughter glares.

Here, while a monarch's sufferings we relate,
Let generous grief his ruin'd grandeur wait.
While Second Richard's blood for vengeance calls,
Doom'd for his grandfire's guilt, poor Henry falls. 10
In civil jars avenging judgment blows,
And royal wrongs entail a people's woes.
Henry, unvers’d in wiles, more good than great,
Drew on by meekness his disastrous fate.

Thus when you see this land by faction tost, 15
Her nobles slain, her laws, her freedom loft;
Let this reflection from the action fow,
We ne'er from foreign foes could ruin know.
Oh, let us then intestine discord Thun,
We ne'er can be, but by ourselves, undone !

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K 2

THE

Pa

T. HE

A N I M AL CU LE.

NI M

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Occasioned by his Grace the Duke of RUTLAND'S

receiving the SMALL-Pox by INOCULATION..

I.
IN
N Animalcules, Muse, display

Spirits, of name unknown in fong!
Reader, a kind attention pay,
Nor. think an useful comment long.

II.
Far less than mites, on mites they prey ;.

Minutelt things may swarms contain:
When o'er your ivory teeth they ftray,
Then throb your little nerves with pain..

HI.
Fluids, in drops, minutely fwell;

These subtil beings each contains ; In the small fanguine globes they. dwell,

Roll from the heart, and trace the veins..

IV..

Through every tender tube they rove,

In finer spirits ftrike the brain ;
Wind quick through every fibrous grove,

And leek, through pores, the heart again.

V. If

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