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By him fall mountains to a level space,
An isthmus finks, and sunder'd feas embrace!
He founds a city on the naked shore,
And desolation starves the tract no inore.

From the wild waves he won the Belgic land;
Where wide they foam’d, her towns and traffics stand;
He clear’d, manur'd, enlarg'd the furtive ground,
And firins the conquest with his fenceful mound.
Ev’n inid the watery world his Venice rose, 295
Each fabric there, as Pleasure's seat lie Mows !
There marts, sports, councils, are for action fought,
Landscapes for health, and folitude for thought.
What wonder then I, by his potent aid,
A mansion in a barren mountain made ?

Part thou hast view'd !-If further we explore,
Let Industry deserve applause the more.

No frowning care yon blest apartment sees,
There Sleep retires, and finds a couch of ease.
Kind dreams, that fly remorse, and pamper'd wealth, 305
There thed the smiles of innocence and health.

Mark !--Here descends a grot, delightful feat!
Which warins e'en winter, tempers summer heat !
See !--Gurgling from a top, a spring, diftils !
In mournful measures wind the dripping rills; 310
Sofr cous of diftant doves, receiv'd around,
In tooriing mixture, swell the watery found;
And hence the streamlets seek the terrace' shade,
Within, without, alike to all convey’d.
Pass on-New scenes, by my creative power, 315
Invite Reflection's sweet and folemn hour.


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We enter'd, where, in well-rang’d order, food Th'instructive volumes of the wise and good. These friends (faid he) though I defert mankind, Good angels never would permit behind. 320 Each genius, youth conceals, or time displays, I know; each work lome seraph here conveys, Retirement thus presents my fearchful thought, What heaven inspir’d, and what the Muse has taught; What Young satiric and sublime has writ,

325 Whose life is virtue, and whose Muse is wit. Rapt I foresee thy Mallet's * early aim Shine in full worth, and shoot at length to fame. Sweet fancy's bloom in Fenton's lay appears, "And the ripe judgment of instructive years. 330 In Hill is all that generous fouls

To Virtue and the Muse for ever dear;
And Thomson, in this praise, thy merit see,
The tongue, that praises merit, praises thee.

These scorn (faid I) the verse-wright of their age, 335
Vain of a labour'd, languid, useless page;
To whole dim faculty the meaning song
Is glaring, or obscure, when clear, and strong;
Whio, in cant phrases, gives a work disgrace ;
Ilis wit, and oddness of his tone and face;

340 Let the weak malice, nurs’d to an esay, In some low libel a mean heart display; Those, who once prais’d, now undeceiv’d, despise, It lives contemnd a day, then harmless dies.



* He liad then just written The EXCURSION.

Or fiould fome nobler bard, their worth, unpraise, 345
Deserting morals, that adorn his lays,
Alas! too oft each science shews the same,
The great grow jealous of a greater name :
Ye bards, the frailty mourn, yet brave the shock;
Has not a Stillingfieet oppos’d a Locke ?

Oh, still proceed, with facred rapture fir'd!
Unenvy'd had he liv'd, if unadmir'd.

Let Envy, he replied, all ireful rise,
Envy pursues alone the brave and wile;
Maro and Socrates intpire her pain,

And Pope, the monarch of the tuneful train!
To whom be Nature's, and Britannia's praise !
All their bright honours rush into his lays !
And all that glorious warmth his lays reveal,
Which only poets, kings, and patriots feel !
Though gay as mith, as curious thought sedate,
As elegance polite, as piwer elate ;
Profound as reason, and as justice clear;
Soft as compaflion, yet as truth severe;
As bouniy copious, as perfuafion fweet, 365
Like nature various, and like art complete ;
So fine her morals, fo sublime her views,
His life is almost equal'd by his Mule.

O Pope !--Snce Envy is decreed by fate,
Since the pursues alone the wile and great;

In one small, emblematic landscape see,
How valt a distance ? wixt thy foe and thee!
Trub from an eminerce surveys our scene
(A hill, where all is clear, and all serene).



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Rude earth-bred storms o'er meaner valleys blow, 375
And wandering mifts roll, blackening, far below;
Dark, and debas’d, like them, is Envy's aim,
And clear, and eminent, like Truth, thy fame.

Thus I. From what dire cause can envy spring ?
Or why embosom we a viper's sting?
'Tis Envy stings our darling passion, pride.
Alas! (the man of mighty foul replied)
Why chuse we miseries ? Molt derive their birth
From one bad source-we dread superior worth;
Prefer'd, it seems a satire on our own;

385 Then heedless to excel we meanly moan : Then we abstract our views, and Envy show, Whence springs the misery, pride is doom'd to know. Thus folly pain creates: By wisdom's power, We thun the weight of many a restless hour- 390 Lo! I meet wrong; perhaps the wrong I feel Tends, by the scheme of things, to public weal. I, of the whole, am part-the joy men see, Must circulate, and so revolve to me. Why should I then of private lofs complain ? 395 Of loss, that proves, perchance, a brother's gain ? The wind, that binds one bark within the bay, May waft a richer freight its willi'd-for way. If rains redundant food the abject ground, Mountains are but supplied, when vales are drown'd; 400 If, with foft moisture swell'd, the vale looks gay, The verdure of the mountain fades away. Shall clouds but at my welfare's call descend? Shuil gravity for me her laws suspend ?


For me shall funs their noon-tide course forbear ? 405
Or motion not subfilt to influence air ?
Let the means vary, be they frost, or flame,
Thy end, o Nature ! still remains the same!
Be this the motive of a wise man's care,-
To thun deserving ills, and learn to bear,





HILE thus a mind humane, and wise, he Mhows,

All eloquent of truth his language flows. Youth, though depress’d, through all his form appears; Through all his sentiments the depth of

years. Thus he-Yet farther Industry behold,

5 Which conscious waits new wonders to unfold. Enter my chapel next-Lo! here begin The hallow'd rites, ihat check the growth of fin. When first we met, how soon you feem'd to know My bosom, labouring with the throbs of woe ! Such racking throbs!-Soft! when I rouse those cares, On my chill'd mind pale Recollection glares ! When moping Frenzy ftrove my thoughts to fway, Here prudent labours chac'd her power away. Full, and rough-rising from yon fculptur'd wall, Bold prophets nations to repentance call! į Meek martyrs smile in flames! gor'd champions groan ! And muse-like cherubs tune their harps in ftone!




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