'Empire.] It was generally believ'd in Rome, that CESAR thought BRUTUs the fittest Man to fucceed him; which therefore excufes BRUTUS fo far, as it is a Proof of his preferring the good of the Common-wealth not only to his best Friend, but to the higheft Temptation of Intereft and Ambition that could poflibly be laid in any Man's way.

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RAPTURE.

I

Yield, I yield, and can no longer stay

My eager Thoughts, that force themselves away.
Sure, none infpir'd (whofe Heat transports 'em still
Above their Reason, and beyond their Will)
Can firm against the strong Impulse remain :
Cenfure it felf were not fo fharp a Pain.
Let vulgar Minds fubmit to vulgar Sway;
What Ignorance fhall think, or Malice fay,
To me are Trifles; if the knowing few,

Who can fee Faults, but can fee Beauties too,
Applaud that Genius which themselves partake,
And spare the Poct for the Mufe's fake.

The

The Muse who raises me from humble Ground,

To view the vaft and various World around:

How fast I mount! In what a wond'rous way
I grow transported to this large Survey!

I value Earth no more, and far below
Methinks I fee the bufy Pigmies go.

My Soul entranc'd is in a Rapture brought

Above the common Tracts of vulgar Thought:
With Fancy wing'd, I feel the purer Air,

And with Contempt look down on human Care.
Airy Ambition, ever foaring high,
Stands first expos'd to my cenforious Eye.
Behold fome toiling up a flipp'ry Hill,

Where, tho' arriv'd, they must be toiling ftill:
Some, with unfteady Fect, juft fall'n to Ground;
Others at top, whofe Heads are turning round,
To this high Sphere it happens still that some,
The most unfit, are forwardeft to come;
Yet among these are Princes forc'd to chufe,
Or feck out fuch as would perhaps refuse.

Favour too great is fafely plac'd on none;

And foon becomes a Dragon, or a Drone.
Either remifs and negligent of all,

Or else imperious and tyrannical.

The Muse inspires me now to look agen,
And fee a meaner fort of fordid Men
Doating on little Heaps of yellow Duft ;
For that, defpifing Honour, Eafe, and Lust.
Let other Bards, expreffing how it shines,
Describe with Envy what the Miser finds;
Only as Heaps of Dirt it seems to me,
Where we fuch despicable Vermin see ;

Who creep through Filth a thousand crooked Ways,
Infenfible of Infamy, or Praise :

Loaded with Guilt, they ftill pursue their Course;
Not ev'n restrain'd by Love, or Friendship's Force.
Not to enlarge on fuch an obvious Thought;
Behold their Folly, which transcends their Fault !
Alas, their Carcs and Cautions only tend

To gain the Means, and then to lofe the End.

Like Heroes in Romances, ftill in Fight
For Mistresses that yield them no Delight.

This, of all Vice, does moft debafe the Mind,
Gold is it felf th' Allay to Human-kind.

Oh happy Times, when no such thing as Coin
E'er tempted Friends to part, or Foes to join!
Cattle, or Corn, among thofe harmless Men,
Was all their Wealth, the Gold and Silver then:
Corn was too bulky to corrupt a Tribe,

And bellowing Herds would have betray'd the Bribe.
Ev'n Traffick now is Intercourfe of Ill;

And ev'ry Wind brings a new Mischief still;
By Trade we flourish in our Leaves and Fruit,
But Av'rice and Excefs devour the Root.

Thus far the Mufe unwillingly has been

Fix'd on the dull, lefs happy forts of Sin;

But, now more pleas'd, fhe views the diff'rent ways Of Luxury, and all its Charms furveys.

Dear Luxury! thou foft, but fure Deceit !

Rife of the Mean, and Ruin of the Great!

Thou