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honour of receiving my education) these Divine | Incredible to thought. There low'rs of oaks Poems are humbly dedicated by his

Float o'er the surges; there enormous whales most obliged,

In awkward gainbols play, th' inferior fry and obedient servant,

Sportive through groves of shining coral glide.
W. HART These with observance due, when hunger calls

Expect their meat from God, who sometimes
A just sufficiency, or more profuse [gives

Show'rs down his bounty with a copious hand.

When God withholds his all-sustaining care,
To dust, their former priociple, they tall.
Then thy prolific spirit forins anew

Each undecaying species. Mighty God! [is, WAKE my soul! in hallow'd raptures praise

How great, how good thy pow'r; that was, and Th'Almighty God, who in th' empyreal height

And e'er shall be immutably the same! Majestic shines, too glorious to behold.

Earth at thy look with reverential fear Methinks the broad expansion of the sky

Er'n to the centre shakes: the mountains blaze O'erspreads thy throne: in air thy chambers

Beneath thy touch. Hail awful pow'r of Heav'n, hang

Eternal three and one! The slaves of vice Eternal, and unmov'd. Clouds roll’d on clouds Thy vengeance, like a sudden whirlwind's rage, Thy chariot form; in thund'rings wrapt and fires Sweeps from mankind. My Muse, thrice gloThou walk'st, incumbent on the wings of wind.

rious task! Active as flames, all intellect, God forms

While my blest eyes behold the cheerful Sun, Angels of essence pure, whose finer parts

While life shall animate this inorial frame, Invisible, and half dissolv'd in light, [hand

In Heav'nly flights shall spread a bolder wing, Should fleet through worlds of air. Th’Almighty

And sing to Him, who gave her first to sing ! Fixt earth's eterual basis, and prescrib'd Its utmost limits to the raging main.

Forth from their deeps a world of waters rose
And delug'd earth. He spoke, the waves obey'd

In peace, subsiding to their ancient springs.
Part murmur headlong down the mountain's
sides :

Mortais, rejoice! with raptures introduce Part through the vales in slow mæanders play, Your grateful songs, and tell what inercies God As pleas'd, yet loth to leave the flow'ry scene.

Deigus to bestow on man: but chiefly you Thither by instinct savage beasts repair The progeny of David, whom the Lord To slake their thirst. Along the margin trees

Selected from each region of the globe Wave in the watry gleam, amid whose boughs

Beneath the arctic or antarctic pole: The winged songsters chant their Maker's pow'r.

Or where the purple Sun with orient beams God with prolific dews, and genial rain Strikes parallel on Earth, or prone descends Impregnates earth, then crowns the smiling fields

T'illumine worlds beyond th' Hesperian main. With lively green: the vegetative juice

With weary feet, and mournful eyes they Flows briskly through the trees; the purple grape

pass'd Swells with nectareous wines t’inspire the soul.

Erroneous through the dreary waste of plains, With verdant fruits the clust'ring olive bends

Inmeas'rable: the broad expanse of Hear'n Whose spritely liquor smooths the shining face. Their canopy, the ground, of damp malign, On Lebanon the sacred cedar waves,

Their bed nocturnal. Thus in wild despair And spiry fir-tree, where the stork conceals

Anxious they sought some hospitable town. Her clam'rous young. The rocks bare, unadorn'd, In shame and bitterness of soul once more Have uses too: there goats in quest of food

They recognized the Lord, and trembling cry'd Ilang pendulous in air, there rabbits form

“ Have mercy on us!” he, the source of mercy, Their mazy cells in constant course the Moon

Kindly revisited his fav'rite race, Nocturnal sheds her kindly influence down,

Consol'd their woes, and led the weary train Marks out the circling year, and rules the Through barren-wilds to the long-promis'd land, tides.

Then plac'd 'em there in peaceful habitations. In constant regularity the Sun

Purples the rosy east, or leaves the skies.
Then awful night o'er all the globe extends

“O that the sons of men in grateful songs, Her sable shades: the woods and deserts ring Wou'd praise th' unbounded goodness of the With hideous yell, what time the lions roar

Lord, And tear their prey; but when the glimm'ring Declare bis miracles, and laud his pow'r!” Dawns o'er the hills, their depredations cease

He cheers the sad, and bids the famish'd soul And sacred silence reigns. The painful man

Luxuriant feast till nature craves no more, Commences with the Sun his early toil,

He often saves th’imprison'd wretch that lies With him retires to rest. O Pow'r supreme !

Tortur'd in iron chains, no more to see How wonderful thy works! the bounteous earth

The cheerful light, or breathe the purer air. Pours from its fruitful surface plants and herbs

(The due reward imperious mortals find, spise Adapt for ev'ry use: its bowels hold

When swell'd with earthly grandeur, they desRich veins of silver, and the golden ore.

The Pow'r supreme) thus Jesse's sacred seed, Unnumber'd wonders in the deeps appear,

Elated with the nun, 'rous gifts of Heav'n,


Slighted the giver: then the wrathful Lord

Of arrogated greatness, without law With-held his hand. They, impotent to save Unpeople realms, and breathe but to destroy; Their forfeit lives, in piercing accents cry'd, Then God his high prerogative asserts, “ Help Lord, we die!” he soon with aspect mild Resumes his pow'r, and blasts their guilty heads : Commiserates their anguish, and reliev'd Then raises from the dust the humble soul Those limbs, which sedentary numbness e’rst Who meekly bore indignities and woe. Had crampt, when they in doleful shades of

Sate inconsolable"
then that men [Lord,

Wou'd praise th' umbounded goodness of the
Declare his miracles, and laud his pow'r!”

Man, thoughtless of his end, in anguish reaps | Far from mankind, my weary soul, retire,
The fruits of folly, and voluptuous life.
Sated with luxury his stomach loaths

Still follow truth, coutentment still desire.
Most palatable meats: with heavy pain

Who climbs on high, at best his weakness shows, His eyes roll slowly; if he drops to rest,

Who rolls in riches, all to fortune owes. He starts delirious, and still seems to see

Read well thy self, and mark thy early ways, Horrible fiends, that tear bim from mankind.

Vain is the Muse, and envy waits on praise. His Aushing cheeks now glow like fames of fire :

Wavring as winds the breath of fortune blows, Now chill'd, he trembles with extremes of coid That shoot, like darts of ice, through every vein.

No pow'r can turn it, and no pray’rs compose. Ev’n then, when art was conquerid, pray’rs Repose and ease and contemplation dwell.

Deep in some hermit's solitary cell and vows Lenient of anger soon appeas'd the Lord,

Let conscience guide thee in the days of need; Whose saving providence restor'd his health,

Judge well thy own, and then thy neighbour's

deed. And snatch'd th' expiring from the jaws of death. But mostly they who voyage o'er the deeps

What Heav'n bestows with thankful eyes receive; Observe the works of God. Suuden, from high

First ask thy heart, and then through faith beDown pours a rushing storm, more dreadful Slowly we wander o’er a toilsome way, (lieve, made

Shadows of life, and pilgrims of a day. By darkness: save what light the flashing waves

“ Who wrestles in this world, receives a fall; Disclose. The vessel rides sublime in air

Look up on high, and thank thy God for all!” High on the surging billows, or again Precipitous through yawning chasms descends. Hearl-thrilling plaints, and hands up-rear'd to Heav'n,

AN ESSAY ON SATIRE: Speak well their anguish, and desire to live.

PARTICULARLY ON THE DUNCIAD. Shock'd by each bursting wave that whirls 'em round,

They stagger in amaze, like reeling men
Intoxicated with the fumes of wine,
Yet when they cry to God, his saving pow'r

Hushes the winds, and bids the main subside.
Instead of storms the whisp’ring zephyrs fan

I. The origin and use of satire. The excelThe silent deep, and wave their pendent sails. lency of epic satire above others, as adding exThen ev'ry heart exults: joyous repose

ample to precept, and animating by fable and Dismisses each terrific thought, when once

sensible images. Epic satire compared with (At Heav'n's command) the weary vesscl makes epic poem, and wherein they differ : of their Her long-expected haven.--" O that men extent, action, unities, episodes, and the nature Would praise th' unbounded goodness of the of their morals. Of parody: of the style, figures Lord,

and wit, proper to this sort of poem, and the Declare his miracles, and laud his pow'r !" superior talents requisite to excel in it. To him onee more address your songs of praise

II. The characters of the several authors of In ev'ry temple sacred to his name,

satire. 1. The ancients; Homer, Simonides, Or where the rev'rend senators conven'd Archilochus, Aristophanes, Menippus, Enpius, Jp council sit. He turns the limpid streams,

Lucilius, Varro, Horace, Persius, Petronius, And flow'ry meadows to a dreary waste.

Juvenal, Lucian, the emperor Julian, 2. The Where corn has grown, and fragrant roses fill'a moderns : Tassone, Coccaius, Rabelais, RegThe skies with odoriferous sweets, he bids nier, Boileau, Dryden, Garth, Pope. The baleful aconite up-lift its head

III. From the practice of all the best writers (l'he curse of impious nations): and again and men in every age and nation, the moral jusin lonely deserts at his high behests

tice of satire in general, and of this sort in parSoft-purling rills in sportive mazes glide

ticular, is vindicated. The necessity of it shown Mæander'd through the valleys: there he bids in this age more especially, and why bad wriThe hungry souls increase and multiply. [down ters are at present the most proper objects of His bounteous hand the while pours goodness satire. The true causes of bad writers. ChaIneffable, and guards their num'rous herds. racters of several sorts of them now abounding. Though thousands fall, his mercy still renews

Envious critics, furious pedants, secret libellers, The never-ending race.--When tyrants, proud obscene poetesses, advocates for corruption, scoffers at religion, writers for deism, desitical And similies, like meteors of the night, and Arian clergymen.

Just give one flash of momentary light. Application of the whole discourse to the Dun

As thinking makes the soul, low things exprest ciad, conc'uding with an address to the author in high-rais'd terms, define a Dunciad best. of it.

Books and the man, demand as much, or more,
Than he who wanderd on the Latian shore:

For here (eternal grief to Duns's soul,
T' Exalt the soul, or make the heart sincero, And Bisthin ghost) the part contains the
To arm our lives with honesty severe,

whole: To shake the wretch beyond the reach of law,

Since in mock-epic none succeeds, but he, Deter the young, and touch the bold with awe,

Who tastes the whole of epic poesy. To raise the fallen, to hear the sufferer's cries,

The moral must be clear and understood : And sanctify the virtues of the wise,

But finer still, if negatively good : Old Satire rose from probity of mind,

Blaspheming Capaneus obliquely shows The noblest ethics, to reform mankind.

T'adore those gods Eneas fears and knows, As Cynthia's orb excels the gems of night,

A fool's the hero : but the poets end So epic satire shines, distinctly bright.

Is to be candid, modest, and a friend. Here genius lives, and strength in ev'ry part,

Let classic learning sanctify each part, And lights and shades, and fancy fix'd by art. Not only show your reading, but your art. A second beauty in its nature lies,

The charms of parody, like those of wit, It gives not things, but beings to our eyes,

If well contrasted, never fail to bit; Life, substance, spirit animate the whole : One half in light, and one in darkness drest, Fiction and fable are the sense and soul.

(For contraries oppos'd still shine the best.) The common dulness of mankind array'd When a cold pause half breaks the writer's heart, In pomp, here lives and breathes, a wond'rous By this, it warms, and brightens into art. maid:

When rhel’ric glitters with too pompous pride, The poet decks her with each unknown grace, By this, like Circe, 'tis undeify'd. Clears her dull brain, and brightens her dark So Berecynthia, while her offspring vie face.

In homage to the mother of the sky, [flow'rs, See! father Chaos o'er bis first-born nods, (Deck'd in rich robes of trees, and plants, and And mother Night, in majesty of gods.

And crown'd illustrious with a hundred tow'rs) See Querno's throne, by hands pontific rise,

O'er all Parnassus casts her eyes at once, And a fools' pandæmonium strike our eyes. And sees an hundred sons—and each a dunce. Ev'n what on Curl the public bounteous pours The language next: from hence new pleasure Is sublimated here to golden show'rs.

springs: A Dunciad or a Lutrin is compleat,

For styles are dignified as well as things. And one in action ; ludicrously great.

Tho' sense subsists, distinct from phrase or sound, Each wheel rolls round in due degrees of force; Yet gravity conveys a surer wound. Ev'n episodes are needful, and of course: The chymic secret which your pains would find, Of course when things are virtually begun Breaks out, unsought for, in Cervantes' mind: E'er the first ends, the father and the son ! And Quixote's wildness, like that king's of old, Or else so needful, and exactly gracd,

Turns all he touches into pump and gold. That nothing is ill-suited, or ill-plac'd.

Yet in this pomp discretion must be had : True epic's a vast world, and this a small, Though grave, not stiff; though whimsical, not

mad: One has its proper beauties, and one all. Like Cynthia, one in thirty days appears ;

In works like these if fustain might appear, Like Saturn, one rolls round in thirty years. Mock-epics, Blackmore, would not cost thee There opens a wide tract, a length of foods,

dear. A height of mountains, and a waste of woods: We grant, that Butler ravishes the heart, Here but one spot: nor leaf nor green depart As Shakespeare soar'd beyond the reach of art; From rules ; e'en Nature seems the child of Art. (For Nature form'd those poets without rules As unities in epic works appear,

To fill the world with imitating fools.) So must they shine in full distinction here, What burlesque could, was by that genius done; Ev'n the warm Iliad moves with slower pow'rs; Yet faults it has, impossible to shun: That forty days demands, this forty hours. Th’unchanging strain for want of grandeur cloys,

Each other satire humbler arts has known, And gives too oft the horse-laugh mirth of boys: Content with meaner beauties, though its own: The short-legg’dverse,and double-gingling sound, Enough for that, if rugged in its course

So quick surprise us, that our heads run round: The verse but rolls with vehemence and force; Yet in this work peculiar life presides, Or nicely pointed in th' Horatian way,

And wit, for all the world to glean besides. Wounds keen, like Sirens mischievously gay. } Here pause, my Muse, too daring and too Here all has wit, yet must that wit be strong

young, Beyond the turns of epigram or song.

Nor rashly aim at precepts yet unsung. The thought must rise, exactly from the vice, Can man the master of the Dunciad teach? Sudden, yet finish'd; clean, and yet concise. And these new bays what other hopes to reach? One harmony must first with last unite:

'Twere better judg'd, to study and explain As all true paintings have their place and light. Each ancient grace he copies not in vain: Transitions must be quick, and yet design'd, To trace thee, Satire, to thy utmost spring, Not made to fill, but just retain the mind : Thy form, thy changes, and thy authors sing.

A nations with this liberty dipense,

Tassonè shone fantastic, but sublime: And bid us shock the man that shocks good sense. And be, who form'd the Macaronic-rhyme.

Great Homer first the mimic sketch design'd: Then westward too by slow degrees confest, What grasp'd not Homer's comprehensive mind? Where boundless Rabelais made the world his By bim who virtue prais'd, was folly curst,

jest: And who Achilles sung, drew Durice the first'. Marot had nature, Regnier force and flame, Next him Simonides, with lighter air

But swallow'd all in Boileau's matchless fame! Io beasts, and apes, and vermin, paims the fair : Extensive soul! who rang'd all learning o'er, The good Scriblerus in like forms displays Present and past and yet found room for more. The reptile rhymsters of these later days. Full of new sense, exact in ev'ry page,

More fierce, Arcbilochus, thy vengeful fame : Unbounded, and yet sober in thy rage. Fools read, and died : for blockheads then had Strange fate! Thy solid sterling of two lines, shame.

Drawn to our tinsel, thro' whole pages shines %. The comic satirist ' attack'd his age,

In Albion then, with equal lustre bright, And found low arts, and pride, among the sage: Great Dryden rose, and steer'd by Nature's light. See learned Athens stand attentive by,

Two glimm'ring orbs he just observ'd from far, And stoics learn their foibles from the eye. The ocean wide, and dubious either star. Latium's fifth Homera held the Greeks in Donne teem'd with wit, but all was majm'd and view:

bruis'd, Solid, though rough, yet incorrect as new. The periods endless, and the sense confus’d: Lucilius, warm’d with more than mortal flame, | Oldham rush'd on, impetuous and sublime, Rose next, and held a torch to er'ry shame. But lame in language, harmony and'rhyme : See stern Menippus, cynical, unclean;

These (with new graces) vig'rous Nature join'd And Grecian centos, inannerly obscene.

In one, and center'd them in Dryden's mind. Add the last efforts of Pacuvius' rage,

How full thy verse! Thy meaning how severe ! And the chaste decency of l'orro's page. How dark thy theme! Yet made exactly clear.

See Horace next, in each reflection nice, Not mortal is thy accent, nor thy rage, Learn'd, but not vain: the foe of fools, not vice. Yet mercy softens, or contracts each page. Each page instructs, each sentiment prevails, Dread bard! instruct us to revere thy rules, All shines alike, he rallies, but ne'er rails: And hate like thee, all rebels, and all fools. With courtly ease conceals a master's art, His spirit ceas'd not (in strict truth) to be: And least expected steals upon the heart. For dying Dryden breath'd, O Garth, on thee, Yet Cassius * felt the fury of his rage,

Bade thee to keep alive his geuuine rage, (Cassius, the Welsted of a former age); Half sunk in want, oppression and old age : And sad Alpinus ignorantly read,

Then, when thy pious hands to repos'd his head, Who murder'd Memnon, tho' for ages dead. When vain young lords and ev'n the flamen fled. Then Persius came: wbose line thoroughly For well thou knewst his merit and bis art, wrought,

His upright mind, clear head, and friendly heart. His sense o'erpaid the stricture of his thought. Ev'n Pope himself (who sees no virtue bleed Here in clear light the stoic.doctrine shines, But bears th' affliction) envies thee the deed, Truth all subdues, or patience all resigns. O Pope ! instructor of my studious days, A mind supreme: impartial, yet severe: Who fix'd my steps in virtue's early ways; Pure in each act, in each recess sincere !

On whom our labours, and our hopes depend, Yet rich ill poets urg'd the stoic's frown),

Thou more than patron, and ev'n more than And bade bir strike at dulness and a crown S. Above all fattery, all thirst of gain, [friend! The vice and luxury Petronius drew

And mortal but in sickness, and in pain ! In Nero meet : th’imperial point of view : T'hou taught'st old Satire nobler fruits to bear, The Roman Wilmot, that could vice ciastise, And check'd her licence with a moral care, Pleas'd the mad king he serv'd to satirise. Thou gav'st the thought new beauties not its own, The next in satire 6 felt a nobler rage,

And touch'd the verse with graces yet unknowo; What honest heart could bear Doinitian's age? Fach lawless branch thy level eye survey'd, See his strong sense, and numbers masculine ! And still corrected Nature as she stray'd : His soul is kindled, and he kindles mine: Warm'd Boileau's sense with Britain's genuine Scornful of vice, and fearless of offence,

fire, He ftows a torrent of impetuous sense.

And added softness to Tassonè's lyre. So savage tyrants who blasphem'd their god, Yet mark the bideous nonseuse of the age, Turn suppliants now, and gaze at Julian's rou? And thou thyself the subject of its rage. Lucian, severe, but in a gay disguise,

Su in old times, round godlike Scæva ran Attacks old faith, or sports in learned lyes S; Rome's dastard sons, a million, and a man. Sets heroes and philosophers at odds ;

Th'exalted merits of the wise and good And scourges mortals, and dethrones the gods. Are seen, far off, and rarely understood.

Then all was right-But Satire rose once more The world's a father to a dunce unknown, Where Medici and Leo arts restore,

And much he thrives, for, Dulness ! he's thy own.

No hackney brethren e'er condemn'd him twice: "Margites.

• Aristophanes.

He fears po enemies, but dust and mice. * Ennius.

4 Epod. 6. s See his first satire of Nero's verses, &c. 9 Roscommon, reversed. 6 Juvenal.

19 Dr. Garth took care of Mr. Dryden's func? The Cæsars of the emperor Julian.

ral, which some noblemen, who undertook it, had • Lucian's True History.


If Pope but writes, the devil, Legion raves, From streets to streets th' unnumber'd pamAnd meagre critics mutter in their caves :

phlets fly; (Such critics of necessity consume

Then tremble Warner, Brown and Billinsly!?. All wit, as hangmen ravish'd maids at Rome.) O thou most gentle deity appear, Names he a scribbler? all the world's in arms; Thou who still hear'st, and yet art prone to hear: Augusta, Granta, Rhedecyna swarms:

Whose eye ne'er closes, and whose brains ne'er The guilty reader fancies what he fears,

rest, And every Midas trembles for bis ears.

(Thy own dear Dulness bawling at thy breast) See all such malice, obloquy and spite,

Attend, O Patience, on thy arm reclin'd, Expire e'er morn, the mushroom of a night. And see wit's endless enemies behind ! 'Transient as vapours glimm’ring thro' the glades, And ye, our Muses, with a hundred tongues; Half-form'd and idle, as the dreams of maids. And thou, O Henley! blest with brazen lungs: Vain as the sick man's vow, or young man's sigh, Fanatic Withers! fam'd for rhymes and sighs, Third-nights of bards, or Henley's " sophistry. And Jacob Behmen! most obscurely wise:

These ever hate the poet's sacred line: From darkness palpable, on dusky wings These hate whate'er is glorious or divine.

Ascend! and shroud him who your offspring From one eterual fountain beauty springs,

sings. The energy of wit and truth of things.

The first with Egypt's darkness in his head, That source is God : from him they downwards Thinks wit the devil, and curses books unread. tend,

For twice ten winters he has blunder'd on, Flow round--yet in their native centre end. Thro' heavy comments, yet ne'er lost nor won : Hence rules, and truth, and order, dunces strike; | Much may be done in twenty winters more, Of arts, and virtues, enemies alike.

And let him then learn English at threescore. Some urge, that poets of supreme renown No sacred Maro glitters on his shelf, Judge ill to scourge the refuse of the town; He wants the mighty Stagyrite himself. Howe'er their casuists hope to turn the scale, See vast Coimbrias' 13 comments pild on high; These men must smart, or scandal will prevail.

In heaps Soncinas'a, Sotus, Sanchez lie; By these the weaker sex still suffer most; For idle hours, Sa's 's idle casuistry. And such are prais'd who rose at honour's cost : Yet worse is he, who in one language read, The learn'd they wound, the virtuous, and the Has one eternal jingling in his head, fair ;

At night, or morn, in bed, and on the stairsNo fault they cancel, no reproach they spare: Talks flights to grooms, and makes lewd songs The random shaft, impetuous in the dark,

at pray'rs; Sings on unseen, and quivers in the mark. His pridle, a pun, a guinea his reward, "Tis justice, and not anger, makes us write, His critic Gildon, Jemmy Moore his bard. Such sons of darkness must be dragg'd to light: What artful hand the wretch's form can hit, Long-suft'ring nature must not always hold: Begot by Satan on a Manley's wit: In virtue's cause 'tis gen'rous to be bold,

In parties furious at the great man's nod, To scourge the bad, th’unwary to reclaim,

And hating none for nothing, but his God: And make light Aash upon the face of shame. Foe to the learn'd, the virtuous, and the sage, Others have urg'd (but weigh it, and you'll | A pimp in youth, an atheist in old age; find

Now plung'o in bawdry and substantial lies, 'Tis light as feathers blown before the wind)

Now dabbling in ungodly theories : That poverty, the curse of Providence,

But so, as swallows skim the pleasing flood, Atones for a dull writer's want of sense:

Grows giddy, but ne'er drinks to du him good : Alas! his dulness 'twas which made him poor : Alike resolv'd to flatter, or to cheat, Not vice versa: we infer no more.

Nay worship onions, if they cry, “ come eat: Of vice and folly poverty's the curse,

A foe to faith, in revelation blind, Heav'n may be rigid, but the man was worse, And impious much, as dunces are by kind, By good made bad, by favours more disgrac'd, Next see the master-piece of flatt'ry rise, So dire th’ effects of ignorance misplac'd ! Th' anointed son of dulness and of lies; Of idle youth, unwatch'd by parents' eyes! Whose softest whisper fills a patron's ear, Of zeal for pence, and dedication lies !.

Who smiles unpleas'd, and mourns without a Of conscience modell’d by a great man's looks, Persuasive, tho' a woful blockhead he: [tear; And arguings in religion-from no books! Truth dies before his shadow's sophistry ;

No light the darkness of that mind invades, For well he knows the vices of the town, Where Chaos rules, enshrin'd in genuine shades: The schemes of state, and int'rest of the gown: Where in the dungeon of the soul enclos'd, Immoral afternoons, indecent nights, True Dulness nods, reclining and repos'd. Inflaming wines, and second appetites. Sense, grace, or harmony, ne'er enter there, But most the theatres with duluess groan; Nor human faith, nor piety sincere:

Embrios half form’d, a progeny unknown: A midnight of the spirits, soul and head, (Suspended all) as thought itself lay dead.

1x Three booksellers. Yet oft a mimic gleam of transient light

13 The society of Cuimbria in Spain, which Breaks thro' this gloom, and then they think

published commentaries on Aristotle. they write;

14 Soncinas, a schoolman.

"s Eman, de Sa. See Paschal's Mystery of 1. In the original H; probably orator Jesuitisın. Henley. C.

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