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To the unknown A u T H O R of this excellent POEM.

TAKE it as earnest of a Faith renew'd,
Your Theme is vast,.your Verse divinely good:
Where, tho' the Nine their beauteous stroaks re- »
peat, C

And the turn'd Lines on Golden Anvils beat, £
It looks as if they ftrook 'em at a heat. J

So all serenely Great, so just refin'd, -»

Like Angels Love to Humane Seed inclin'd, ?■
It starts a Giant, and exalts the Kind. ■*

'Tis Spirit seen, whose fiery Atoms roul,
So brightly fierce, each Syllable's a Soul.
'Tis minature of Man, but he's all Heart;
'Tis what the World would be, but wants the Art;
To whom ev'n the Phanaticks Altars raise,
Bow in their own despite, and grin your Praise.
As if a Milton from the Dead arose,
FiPd off the Rust, and the right Party chose.
Nor, Sir, be Ihock'd at what (he Gloomy say,
Turn not your Feet too inward, nor too splay.
'Tis Gracious all, and Great: Push on your Themes
Lean your griev'd Head on David's Diadem.
Dnid that rebel Israel's Envy mov'd,
Dwidbj God and all good Men belov'd.

The Beauties of your ^Absalom excel:
B« more the Charms of Charming ^Annabel;
Of ^Annabel, than May's first Morn more bright,
Cheaiful as Summer's Noon, and chast as Winter's

Of Annabel the Muses dearest Theme,
Of ^Annabel the Angel of my Dream.
Thus let a broken Eloquence attend,
And to your Master-piece these Shadows send.

Nat, Lei;

To the Unknown Author of this admirable POEM.

I Thought, forgive my Sin, the boasted fire
Of Poets Souls did long ago expire;
Of Folly or of Madness did accuse
The wretch that thought himself possestwith Muse;
Laugh'd at the God within, that did inspire
With more than human thoughts the tuneful Quire;
But sure 'tis more than Fancy, or the Dream
Of Rhimers flumbring by the Muses stream.
Some livelier Spark of Heay'n, and more refin'd
From Earthly dross, fills the great Poet's Mind.
Witness these mighty and immortal Lines,
Through each of which th' informing Genius stunts.
Scarce a diviner Flame inspir'd the King,
Of whom thy Muse does so sublimely sing.
Not David's self could in a nobler Verse
His gloriously offending Son rehearse;
Tho' in his Breast the Prophet's Fury met,
The Father's Fondness, and the Poet's Wit.
Here all consent in Wonder and in Praise,
And to the Unknown Poet Altars raise.
Which rhou must needs accept with equal joy.
As when cÆncas heard the Wars of Troy,
Wrapt up himself in darkness and unseen,
Extoll'd with Wonder by the Tyrian Queen.
Sure thou already art secure of Fame,
Nor want'st new Glories to exalt thy Name;
What Father else would have refus'd to own
So great a Sou. as God-like ^Absalom?

R, D u K f,

To the Conceal'd Author of this incomparable POEM.

HAil Heav'n-bom Muse! hail ev'ry Sacred page t
The Glory of our Ifle and of our Age.
Th' inspiring. Sun to ^Albion draws more nigh, •
The North at length teems with a work to vie
With Homer's Flame and Virgk's Majesty.
While Pindus lofty Heights our Poet sought, ^
(His ravilht Mind with vast Idea's fraught) >

Our Language fail'd beneath his rising Thought; J
This checks not his Attempt, for Mero's Mines y
He dreins of all their Gold, t'adorn his Lines: >
Through each of which the Mdntuan Geniui shines. J
The Rock obey'd the pow'rful Hebrew Guide,
Her flinty Breast dissolv'd info a Tide:
Thus on our stubborn Language he prevails,
And makes the Helicon in which he fails.
The Dialect, as well as fense, invents,
And, with his Poem, a new speech presents.
Hail then thou matchless Bard, thou great unknown,
That give your Country Fame, yet ihrui your own '.

In vain for ev'ry where your Praise you find,

And not to meet it you must shun Mankind.
Tom Loyal Theme each Loyal Reader draws, f
And ev'n the factious give your Verse applause, f
Whose lightning strikes to ground their Idol cause. ^
The Cause for whose dear sake they drank a Flood
Of Civil Gore, nor spar'd the Royal-blood:
The Cause whose Growth to crush, our Prelates wrote
1" vain, almost in vain our Hero's fought.
*ct by one Stab of your keen Satyr dies:
Before your Sacred Lines their lhatter'd Dagon lies,

Oli; If unworthy we appear to know
The Sire, to whom this lovely Birth we owe:
(Deny'd our ready Homage to express,
And can at best but thankful be by guess:)
This hope remains,—May David's God-like Mind,
(For him 'twas wrore) the unknown Author sind:
And, having found, show'r equal Favours down
On Wit so vast as cou'd oblige a Crown.

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|! N pious Times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,

Before Polygamy was made a Sin;

When Man on many multiply'*} his kind,

E'er one to one was, cursedly, con-

When Nature prompted, and no Law deny'd
Tromiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's Monarch, after Heaven's own hearts
His vigorous warmth did variously impart
To Wives and Slaves : and, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Miihal, of Roy il Blood, the Crown did wear;
A Soil ungrateful to the Tiller's Care:
Not so the rest ; sot several Mothers bore
To God-like David, several Sons before.
But, since like Slaves his Bed they did ascend,
No true Succession could their Seed attend.
Of all the numerous Progeny was none
So Beautiful, so Brave as Absalom:

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