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Some cry'd, A Venus ; some, A Thetis paft ;
But this was not so fair, nor that so chafte.
Far from her fight flew Faction, Strife, and Pride ;
And Envy did but look on her, and dy'd.
Whate'er we suffer'd from our sullen fate,
Her Sight-is purchas'd at an easy rate.
Three gloomy Years against this Day were set ;-
But this one mighty Sum has clear'd the Debt :
Like oseph's Dream, but with a better doom,
The Famine past, the Plenty still to come.
For her the weeping Heav'ns become serene ;
For her the Ground is clad in cheerful Green:
For her the Nightingales are taught to fing,
And Nature has for her delay'd the Spring.
The Muse resumes her long-forgotten Lays,
And Love, restor’d, his antient Realm surveys,
Recals our Beauties, and revives our Plays ;
His waste Dominions peoples once again,
And from her presence dates his second reign.
But awful Charms on her fair Forehead fit,
Dispensing what she never will admit:
Pleasing, yet cold, like Cynthia's filver Beam,
The People's wonder, and the Poet's Theme,
Diftemper'd Zeal, Sedition, canker'd hate,
No more shall vex the Church, and tear the State :
No more shall Faction civil Discords move,
Or only Discords of too tender Love :
Discord, like that of Mufick's various Parts ;
Discord, that makes the harmony of Hearts ;
Discord, that only this Dispute shall bring,
Who best shall love the Duke, and serve the King:


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To my Honour'd Friend Dr. Charleton, on his

learned and useful Works ; but more particularly bis Treatise of Stone-Henge, by him restored to the true Founders.

HE longest Tyranny that ever sway'd,

Was that wherein our Ancestors betray'd
Their free-born Reason to the Stag yrite,
And made his Torch their universal Light.
So Truth, while only one supply'd the State,
Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
Still it was bought, like Emp'rick Wares, or Charms,
Hard Words feal'd up with Aristotle's Arms.
Columbus was the first that shook his Throne;
And found a Temp’rate in a Torrid Zone:
The fev'rish Air fann'd by a cooling Breeze,
The fruitful Vales set round with shady Trees ;
And guiltless Men, who danc'd away their time,
Fresh as their Groves, and Happy as their Clime.
Had we still paid that Homage to a Name,
Which only God and Nature justly claim ;
The Western Seas had been our utmost Bound,
Where Poets still might dream the Sun was drown'd:
And all the Stars, that shine in Southern Skies,
Had been admir'd by none but Savage Eyes.

Among th' Afferters of free Reason's claim,
Our Nation's not the least in Worth or Fame.
The World to Bacon does not only owe
Its present Knowledge, but its future too.
Gilber shall live, ’till Load-fones cease to draw,
Or British Fleets the boundless Ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not less in Nature seen,
Than his great Brother read in States and Men.


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The Circling Streams, once thought but Pools, of Blood
(Whether Life's Fuel, or the Body's Food)
From dark Oblivion Harvey's Name shall save;
While Ent keeps all the Honour that he gave.
Nor are You, Learned Friend, the least renown'd;
Whose Fame, not circumscrib'd with English Ground,
Flies like the nimble Journies of the Light;
And is, like that, unspent too in its Flight.
Whatever Truths have been, by Art, or Chance,
Redeem'd from Error, or from Ignorance,
Thin in their Authors ( like rich Veins of Ore)
Your Works unite, and still discover more.
Such is the healing Virtue of your Pen,
To perfect Cures on Books, as well as Meni
Nor is this work the least : You well may give
To Men new Vigour, who make Stones to live.
Through You, the Danes ( their short Dominion loft)
A longer Conquest than the Saxons boast.
STONE-HENGE, once thought a Temple, you have found
A Throne, where Kings, our earthly Gods, were crown'd;.
Where by their wond'ring Subjects they were seen,
Joy'd with their Stature, and their Princely Mien,
Our Sovereign here above the rest might stand,
And here be chose again to rule the Land.

These Ruins shelter'd once His Sacred Head;
When He from Wor'fter's fatal Battle fled ;
Watch'd by the Genius of this Royal Place,
And mighty Visions of the Danila Race.
His Refuge, then, was for a Temple shown :
Rut, He restor'd, 'tis now become a Throne.

To the Lady CASTLEMAIN, upon her

encouraging his first Play. : A

S Seamen, Shipwreck'd on some happy Shore;

Discover Wealth in Lands unknown before ;
And, what their Art had labour'd long in vain,
By their Misfortunes happily obtain :
So my much-env'd Muse, by Storms long tost,
Is thrown upon your hospitable Coast,
And finds more favour by her ill Success,
Than she cou'd hope for by her Happiness.
Once Cato's Virtue did the Gods oppose;
While they the Victor, he the Vanquish'd chose :

have done what Gato cou'd not do,
To choose the Vanquish'd, and restore him too.
Let others still Triumph, and gain their Cause
By their Deserts, or by the World's Applause ;
Let Merit Crowns, and Justice Laurels give,
But let me happy by your Pity live:
True Poets empty Fame and Praise despise,
Fame is the Trumpet, but your Smile the Prize..
You sit above, and see vain Men below
Contend for what you only can bestow :
But those great Actions, others do by chance,
Are, like your Beauty, your Inheritance :
So great a Soul, fuch Sweetness join'd in one,
Cou'd only spring from noble Grandison.
You, like the Stars, not by Reflexion bright,
Are born to your own Heav'n, and

your own Light;
Like them are good, but from a nobler Cause,
From your own Knowledge, not from Nature's Laws.
Your Pow'r you never use, but for Defence,
To guard your own, or others Innocence :



Your Foes are such, as they, not you, have made,
And Virtue may repel, tho' not invade.
Such Courage did the antient Heroes show,
Who, when they might prevent, wou'd wait the Blow :
With such assurance as they meant to say,
We will o'ercome, but fcorn the safest way.
What further fear of danger can there be ?
Beauty, which captives all things, sets me free.
Pofterity will judge by my Success,
I had the Grecian Poet's Happiness,
Who, waving Plots, found out a better way ;
Some God descended, and preserv'd the Play.
When first the Triumphs of your Sex were sung
By those old Poets, Beauty was but young,
And few admir'd the native Red and White,
'Till Poets dress’d them up, to charm the fight :
So Beauty took on trust, and did engage
For Sums of Praises 'till she came to Age.
But this long-growing Debt to Poetry
You justly, Madam, have discharg'd to me,
When your Applause and Favour did infuse.
New Life to my condemn'd and dying Muse.

To my Honoured Friend Sir ROBERT

HOWARD, on his Excellent Poems.


S there is Mufick uninform’d by Art

In those wild Notes, which with a merry Heart The Birds in unfrequented Shades express, Who, better taught at home, yet please us less : So in your Verse a native Sweetness dwells, Which shames Composure, and its Art excells.


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