(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 depreft his Mind,
Still, like a Diamond in the Duft 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 juft Heav'n would all our Joys restore.

So when black Clouds furround Heav'n's glorious

Face,

Tempeftuous Darkness cov'ring all the Place ;
If we difcern but the leaft glimm'ring Ray

Of that bright Orb of Fire which rules the Day :
The chearful Sight our fainting Courage warms;

Fix'd upon that, we fear no future Harms.

On

On the DEITT

W

Retched Mankind! void both of Strength

and Skill!

Dextrous at nothing but at doing III!

In Merit humble, in Pretenfion high;

Among them none, alas, more weak than I ;

And none more blind: tho' ftill I worthless thought
The best I ever spoke, or ever wrote.

But zealous Heat exalts the humbleft Mind;
Within my Soul fuch ftrong Impulse I find
The Heav'nly Tribute of due Praise to pay:
Perhaps 'tis facred, and I must obey.

Yet fuch the Subjects, various, and so high!
Stupendous Wonders of the Deity!
Miraculous Effects of boundless Pow'r!

And that as boundless Goodness shining more!
All these, so numberlefs, my Thoughts attend,
Oh where fhall I begin, or ever end?

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

Abruptly to break off, wants no excufe,

VOL. I.

P

While

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!

FINI S.

THE

TRAGEDY

O F

JULIUS CÆSAR,

ALTERED:

With a PROLOGUE and CHORUS;

By His GRACE

JOHN Duke of BUCKINGHAM.

P 2