Oh wondrous pair! whom equal virtues crown ; Oh worthy of each other's vaft renown!

None but TURENNE with YORK could glory share,
And none but YORK deserve so great a master's care.
Scarce was he come to bless his native isle,

And reap the foft rewards of glorious toil,
But like ALCIDES, still new dangers call
His courage forth, and still he vanquish'd all.

At fea, that bloody scene of boundless rage,
Where floating caftles in fierce flames engage,
(Where MARS himself does frowningly command,
And by lieutenants only fights at land)

For his own fame howe'er he fought before,
For England's honour yet he ventur'd

more.

In those black times, when faction raging high,
Valour and innocence were forc'd to fly,

With YORK they fled; but not deprest his mind ;
Still, like a diamond in the dust, it shin'd.
When from afar his drooping friends beheld
How in distress he ev'n himself excell'd;
How to his envious fate, his country's frown,
His brother's will, he facrific'd his own;

They rais'd their hearts, and never doubted more
But that just Heav'n would all our joys restore.
So when black clouds furround heav'n's glorious face,
Tempestuous darkness cov'ring all the place;
If we difcern but the least glimm'ring ray
Of that bright orb of fire which rules the day;
The chearful fight our fainting courage warms;
Fix'd upon that, we fear no future harms.

ON THE

DE IT Y.

W Ret

Retched mankind! void both of strength and Dextrous at nothing but at doing ill! [skill! In merit humble, in pretenfion high;

Among them none, alas! more weak than I ;
And none more blind: tho' still I worthless thought
The best I ever spoke, or ever wrote.

But zealous heat exalts the humblest mind;
Within my foul fuch ftrong impulfe I find
The heav'nly tribute of due praise to pay:
Perhaps 'tis facred, and I must obey.

Yet fuch the fubjects, various, and fo high!
Stupendous wonders of the Deity!
Miraculous effects of boundless pow'r !
And that as boundlefs goodnefs fhining more!
All these, fo numberlefs, my thoughts attend,
Oh where shall I begin, or ever end?

R

But on that theme which ev'n the wife abuse, So facred, fo fublime, and fo abftrufe,

Abruptly to break off, wants no excufe.

While others vainly ftrive to know thee more,
Let me in filent reverence adore;

Wishing that human pow'r were higher rais'd,
Only that thine might be more nobly prais'd!
Thrice happy angels in their high degree;
Created worthy of extolling thee!

THE END.

}

THE

TRAGEDY

OF

JULIUS CAESAR,

ALTERED:

WITH A

PROLOGUE AND CHORUS;

BY HIS GRACE

JOHN DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.