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Our minds are here, and there, below, above;
Nothing that's mortal can so swiftly move.
Our thoughts to future things their flight direct,
And in an instant all that's past collect.
Reason, remembrance, wit, inventive art,
No nature, but immortal, can impart.
Man's foul in a perpetual motion flows,
And to no outward caufe that motion owes ;
And therefore that, no end can overtake,
Becaufe our minds cannot themselves forfake.
And fince the matter of our foul is pure,
And fimple, which no mixture can endure
Of parts, which not among themselves agree;
Therefore it never can divided be.

And nature fhews (without philosophy)
What cannot be divided, cannot die.
We ev'n in early infancy discern,

Knowledge is born with babes before they learn; Ere they can speak, they find so many ways To ferve their turn, and fee more arts than days: Before their thoughts they plainly can express, The words and things they know are numberless, Which nature only, and no art could find, But what she taught before, fhe call'd to mind, These to his fons (as Xenophon records) Of the great Cyrus were the dying words; "Fear not when I depart (nor therefore mourn) "I fhall be no where, or to nothing turn: "That foul, which gave me life, was seen by none, "Yet by the actions it defign'd, was known;

"And

"And though its flight no mortal eye shall see,
"Yet know, for ever it the fame shall be.
"That foul, which can immortal glory give,
"To her own virtues muft for ever live.

"Can you believe, that man's all-knowing mind
"Can to a mortal body be confin'd?

“Though a foul foolish prison her immure

"On earth, fhe (when efcap'd) is wife, and pure,
"Man's body, when diffolv'd, is but the fame
"With beafts, and muft return from whence it came ;
"But whence into our bodies reafon flows,
"None fees it, when it comes, or where it goes.
"Nothing resembles death fo much as fleep,
"Yet then our minds themselves from flumber keep.
"When from their fleshly bondage they are free,
"Then what divine and future things they fee!
"Which makes it moft apparent whence they are,
"And what they fhall hereafter be, declare."
This noble fpeech the dying Cyrus made.
Me, Scipio, fhall no argument perfuade,

Thy grandfire, and his brother, to whom Fame
Gave, from two conquer'd parts o' th' world, their name,

Nor thy great grandfire, nor thy father Paul,
Who fell at Cannæ againft Hannibal;

Nor I (for 'tis permitted to the ag'd

To boast their actions) had fo oft engag'd
In battles, and in pleadings, had we thought,
That only Fame our virtuous actions bought;
'Twere better in foft pleafure and repose
Ingloriously our peaceful eyes to close :

Some

Some high affurance hath poffeft my mind,
After my death an happier life to find.
Unless our fouls from the immortals came,
What end have we to feek immortal fame ?
All virtuous spirits fome fuch hope attends,
Therefore the wife his days with pleasure ends.
The foolish and short-fighted die with fear,
That they go no where, or they know not where.
The wife and virtuous foul, with clearer eyes,
Before the parts, fome happy port defcries.
My friends, your fathers fhall furely fee ;
Nor only those I lov'd, or who lov'd me;
But fuch as before ours did end their days;
Of whom we hear, and read, and write their praife.
This I believe: for were I on my way,

None should perfuade me to return, or stay:
Should fome god tell me, that I should be born,
And cry again, his offer I would fcorn;
Afham'd, when I have ended well my race,
To be led back to my firft ftarting-place.
And fince with life we are more griev'd than joy'd,
We should be either fatisfy'd or cloy'd:

Yet will I not my length of days deplore,
As many wife and learn'd have done before;
Nor can I think fuch life in vain is lent,
Which for our country and our friends is spent.
Hence from an inn, not from my home I pass,
Since nature meant us here no dwelling-place.
Happy when I, from this turmoil set free,
That peaceful and divine assembly see :

Not

Not only thofe I nam'd I there fhall greet,
But my own gallant, virtuous Cato meet.
Nor did I weep, when I to afhes turn'd
His belov'd body, who fhould mine have burn'd.
I in my thoughts beheld his foul afcend,
Where his fixt hopes our interview attend :
Then ceafe to wonder that I feel no grief
From age, which is of my delights the chief.
My hopes, if this affurance hath deceiv'd,
(That I man's foul immortal have believ'd)
And if I err, no power fhall difpoffefs
My thoughts of that expected happiness.
Though fome minute philofophers pretend,
That with our days our pains and pleasures end.
If it be fo, I hold the fafer fide,

For none of them my error fhall deride.
And if hereafter no rewards appear,

Yet virtue hath itfelf rewarded here,
If thofe, who this opinion have despis'd,
And their whole life to pleasure facrific'd,
Should feel their error, they, when undeceiv'd,
Too late will wish, that me they had believ'd.
If fouls no immortality obtain,

'Tis fit our bodies should be out of pain.
The fame uneafinefs which every thing

Gives to our nature, life muft alfo bring.
Good acts, if long, seem tedious; so is age,
Acting too long upon this earth her stage.
Thus much for age, to which when you arrive,
That joy to you, which it gives me, 'twill give.

CON

TO THE HON. EDWARD HOWARD,

N

THE BRITISH PRINCES.

WHAT mighty gale hath rais'd a flight so strong ?

So high above all vulgar eyes? fo long?

One fingle rapture scarce itself confines
Within the limits of four thousand lines :
And yet I hope to see this noble heat
Continue, till it makes the piece compleat,
That to the latter age it may defcend,
And to the end of time its beams extend.
When poefy joins profit with delight,
Her images fhould be moft exquifite,
Since man to that perfection cannot rife,
Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wife;
Therefore the patterns man should imitate
Above the life our mafters fhould create.
Herein, if we confult with Greece and Rome,
Greece (as in war) by Rome was overcome;
Though mighty raptures we in Homer find,
Yet, like himself, his characters were blind:
Virgil's fublimed eyes not only gaz'd,

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But his fublimed thoughts to Heaven were rais'd. 20 Who reads the honours which he paid the gods,

Would think he had beheld their bleft abodes;

DENHAM

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