How your fad fickening art now hangs her head,

And, once a science, is become a trade.
Her fons ne'er rifle her mysterious store,
But ftudy nature lefs, and lucre more.
Not fo when Rome to th' Epidaurian rais'd
A temple, where devoted incenfe blaz’d.
Oft' father Tiber views the lofty fire,
As the learn'd fon is worship'd like the fire;
The fage with Romulus like honours claim;
The gift of life and laws were then the fame.

I fhow'd of old, how vital currents glide,
And the meanders of the refluent tide.

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320

Then, Willis, why spontaneous actions here,

3-5

And whence involuntary motions there:

And how the fpirits, by mechanic laws,

In wild careers tumultuous riots caufe.

Nor would our Wharton, Bates, and Gliffon, lie
In the abyfs of blind obfcurity.

330

From Heaven and great Nassau he has the mace.

Th' oppress'd to his afylum ftill repair ;

Arts he fupports, and learning is his care.
He foftens the harsh rigour of the laws,

Blunts their keen edge, and grinds their harpy claws;
And graciously he cafts a pitying eye

On the fad ftate of virtuous poverty.

When

Whene'er he speaks, Heaven! how the liftening throng. Dwells on the melting music of his tongue!

His arguments are emblems of his mien,

Mild, but not faint, and forcing, though ferene;
And, when the power of eloquence he 'd try,
Here lightning ftrikes you; there foft breezes figh.
To him you must your fickly state refer,
Your charter claims him as your visiter.
Your wounds he 'll clofe, and fovereignly restore
Your science to the height it had before.

Then Naffau's health fhall be your glorious aim;
His life should be as lasting as his fame.
Some princes' claims from devastations fpring;
He condefcends in pity to be king:

And, when amidst his olives plac'd he stands,
And governs more by candour than commands;
Ev'n then not lefs a hero he appears,

Than when his laurel-diadem he wears.

Would Phoebus, or his Granville, but inspire

Their facred vehemence of poetic fire;
To celebrate in song that god-like power,
Which did the labouring universe restore :
Fair Albion's cliffs would echo to the ftrain,.
And praise the arm that conquer'd, to regain
The earth's repofe, and empire o'er the main.

Still may th' immortal man his cares repeat,
To make his bleffings endless as they 're great:
Whilft malice and ingratitude confefs

They 've strove for ruin long without fuccefs.

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350

355

360

365

370

When

When, late, Jove's eagle from the pile shall rise
To bear the victor to the boundless skies,
Awhile the god puts off paternal care,

Neglects the earth, to give the heavens a star.
Near thee, Alcides, fhall the hero shine;
His rays refembling, as his labours, thine.

Had fome fam'd patriot, of the Latian blood,
Like Julius great, and like Octavius good,
But thus preferv'd the Latian liberties,
Afpiring columns foon had reach'd the skies:
J.oud Io's the proud capitol had shook,
And all the ftatues of the gods had spoke.

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380

No more the Sage his raptures could pursue: : He paus'd; and Celfus with his Guide withdrew. 385

CLARE

CLAREMONT:

Addreffed to the Right Honourable the Earl of CLARE, afterwards Duke of NEWCASTLE.

"-Dryadum fylvas, faltufque fequamur "Intactos, tua, Mecenas, haud mollia juffa." VIRG.

THE

PREFACE.

HEY that have feen those two excellent poems of Cooper's-hill and Windfor-foreft; the one by Sir J. Denham, the other by Mr. Pope; will fhew a great deal of candour if they approve of this. It was written upon giving the name of Claremont to a villa, now belonging to the earl of Clare. The fituation is so agreeable and furprizing, that it inclines one to think fome place of this nature put Ovid at first upon the story of Narciffus and Echo. It is probable he had observed fome fpring arifing amongst woods and rocks, where echos were heard; and fome flower bending over the ftream, and by confequence reflected from it. After reading the ftory in the third book of the Metamor

phofis,

phofis, it is obvious to object (as an ingenious friend has already done) that the renewing the charms of a nymph, of which Ovid had difpoffeffed her,

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— vox tantùm atque ofsa fuperfunt,”

is too great a violation of poetical authority. I dare fay the gentleman who is meant, would have been wellpleased to have found no faults. There are not many authors one can say the fame of: experience fhews us every day that there are writers who cannot bear a brother should fucceed, and the only refuge from their indignation is by being inconfiderable; upon which reflection, this thing ought to have a pretence to their favour.

They who would be more informed of what relates to the ancient Britons, and the Druids their priests, may confult Pliny, Ovid, and the other claffic authors that have mentioned them.

CLAREMONT.

WH

HAT frenzy has of late poffefs'à the brain!
Though few can write, yet fewer can refrain.
So rank our foil, our bards rife in fuch store,
Their rich retaining patrons scarce are more.
The laft indulge the fault the first commit;
And take off ftill the offal of their wit.

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So fhameless, so abandon'd, are their ways;

They poach Parnaffus, and lay fnares for praise.

None