!

A

It feeds it ftrongly, and it clothes it gay,

And, when it dies, with comely pride
Embalms it, and erects a pyramid

That never will decay

Till heaven itself shall melt away,

And nought behind it stay.

Begin the fong, and ftrike the living lyre;

Lo! how the years to come, a numerous and well-fitted quire,

All hand in hand do decently advance,

And to my fong with smooth and equal measures dance! ·
Whilft the dance lafts, how long foe'er it be,
My mufic's voice hall bear it company;
Till all gentle notes be drown'd

In the last trumpet's dreadful found :
That to the spheres themselves fhall filence bring,
Untune the univerfal ftring:

Then all the wide-extended sky,

And all th' harmonious worlds on high,
And Virgil's facred work, shall die;

And he himself fhall fee in one fire shine

Rich Nature's ancient Troy, though built by hands divine.

Whom thunder's difmal noise,
And all that prophets and apostles louder spake,
And all the creatures" plain confpiring voice,
Could not, whilft they liv'd, awake,
This mightier found shall make

C 4

When

When dead t' arife;

And open tombs, and open eyes,

To the long fluggards of five thousand years!
This mightier found shall make its hearers ears.
Then shall the scatter'd atoms crowding come
Back to their ancient home;

Some from birds, from fifhes fome;
Some from earth, and fome from feas;
Some from beafts, and fome from trees;
Some defcend from clouds on high,

Some from metals upwards fly,

And, where th' attending foul naked and shivering ftands,

Meet, falute, and join their hands ; As difpers'd foldiers, at the trumpet's call, Hafte to their colours all.

Unhappy moft, like tortur'd men,

Their joints new fet, to be new-rack'd again,
To mountains they for fhelter pray,

The mountains shake, and run about no lefs confus'd than they.

Stop, ftop, my Mufe! allay thy vigorous heat,

Kindled at a hint fo great;

Hold thy Pindaric Pegasus closely in,

Which does to rage begin,

And this steep hill would gallop up with violent courfe; 'Tis an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse,

Fierce and unbroken yet,

Impatient of the fpur or bit;

Now prances ftately, and anon flies o'er the place;
Difdains the fervile law of any fettled pace,
Confcious and proud of his own natural force.
'Twill no unskilful touch endure,

But flings writer and reader too, that fits not sure.

G

O, the rich chariot inftantly prepare;
The Queen, my Mufe, will take the air:
Unruly Fancy with strong Judgment trace;
Put in nimble-footed Wit,

Smooth-pac'd Eloquence join with it;
Sound Memory with young Invention place;
Harness all the winged race.

Let the poftillion Nature mount, and let

The coachman Art be fet;

And let the airy footmen, running all befide,
Make a long row of goodly pride,

Figures, Conceits, Raptures, and Sentences,

In a well-worded dress ;

[Lyes,

And innocent Loves, and pleafant Truths, and useful

In all their gaudy liveries.

Mount, glorious Queen! thy travelling throne,

And bid it to put on;

For long, though chearful, is the way,

And life, alas! allows but one ill winter's day.

Where

Where never foot of man, or hoof of beaft,

The paffage prefs'd;

Where never fish did fly,

And with fhort filver wings cut the low liquid fky; Where bird with painted oars did ne'er

Row through the trackless ocean of the air;

Where never yet did pry

The bufy morning's curious eye;

The wheels of thy bold coach pass quick and free,
And all 's an open road to thee !
Whatever God did Say,

Is all thy plain and smooth uninterrupted way!
Nay, ev'n beyond his works thy voyages are known,
Thou 'haft thousand worlds too of thine own.
Thou speak'st, great Queen ! in the fame ftyle as He;
And a new world leaps forth when throu fay'ft, "Let
"it be."

Thou fathom'ft the deep gulf of ages paft,

The

And canft pluck up with eafe

years which thou doft please ;

Like fhipwreck'd treafures, by rude tempefts caft
Long fince into the fea,

Brought up again to light and public ufe by theel
Nor doft thou only dive fo low,

But fly

With an unwearied wing the other way on high,
Where Fates among the stars do grow ;

There

There into the clofe nests of Time dost peep,

And there, with piercing eye,

Through the firm shell and the thick white, dost spy

Years to come a-forming lie,

Close in their facred fecundine asleep,

Till, hatch'd by the fun's vital heat,
Which o'er them yet does brooding fet,
They life and motion get,

And, ripe at last, with vigorous might
Break through the shell, and take their everlasting flight!

And fure we may

The fame too of the present say,
If paft and future times do thee obey,

Thou ftop'ft this current, and doft make
This running river settle like a lake;

Thy certain hand holds fast this flippery snake!
The fruit which does fo quickly waste,

Men fcarce can fee it, much less taste,

Thou comfiteft in fweets to make it last.

This fhining piece of ice,

Which melts fo foon away

With the fun's ray,

Thy verfe does folidate and crystallize,
Till it a lafting mirror be 1

Nay, thy immortal rhyme

Makes this one fhort point of time
half the orb of round eternity.

To fill

up

T