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W!

A FRAGMENT.

HAT are the falling rills, the pendant fhades, The morning bowers, the evening colonnades, But foft receffes for th' uneafy mind

To figh unheard in, to the paffing wind!
So the ftruck deer, in fame fequefter'd part,
Lies down to die (the arrow in his heart)
There hid in fhades, and wafting day by day,
Inly he bleeds, and pants his foul away.

VERSES left by Mr. POPE, on his lying in the fame Bed which WILMOT the celebrated Earl of Rochefter flept in, at Adderbury, then belonging to the Duke of Argyle, July 9th, 1739.

ITH no poetic ardour fir'd

WITH

I prefs the bed where Wilmot lay;

That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,

Begets no numbers grave, or gay.

But in thy roof, Argyle, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof-the sky.

Such flames as high in patriots burn,
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife;
And fuch as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.

CON

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Ode on St. Cecilia's Day,

Two Chorufes to the Tragedy of Brutus,

77

82:

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Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady,

Prologue to Mr. Addison's Tragedy of Cato,

Epilogue to Jane Shore,

157

160-

162

SAPPHO to PHAON, an Epiftle from Ovid,
ELOISA to ABELARD, an Epiftle,

164

183

The TEMPLE of FAME,.

201

JANUARY

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