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Ο

CHORUS

of

YOUTHS and VIRGINS.

SEMICHORUS.

H Tyrant Loye! haft thou poffeft

The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breaft?
Wifdom and wit in vain reclaim,

And Arts but foften us to feel thy flame.
Love, foft intruder, enters here,

But entring learns to be fincere.
Marcus with blufhes owns he loves,
And Brutus tenderly reproves.

Why, Virtue, dost thou blame defire
Which Nature has impreft?
Why, Nature, doft thou fooneft fire
The mild and gen'rous breast?

CHORU S.

Love's purer flames the Gods approve;
The Gods and Brutus bend to love;
Brutus for abfent Porcia fighs,

And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loofe love? a tranfient gult,
Spent in a fudden ftorm of luft,
A vapour fed from wild defire,

A wand'ring, felf-confuming fire.

NOTES.

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VER. 9. why Virtue, etc.) In allufion to that famous cons

ceit of Guarini,

Se il peccare è fi dolce, etc.

But Hymen's kinder flames unite;
And burn for ever one;

Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh fource of ev'ry focial tye,
United wifh, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, hufband, friend? Whether his hoary fire he fpies, algal Medy While thoufand grateful thoughts arife;

Or meets his fpoufe's fonder eye;

Or views his finiling progeny;

What tender paffions take their turns,
What home-felt raptures move?

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His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,

With rev'rence, hope, and love.

CHORU.S.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes, Hence falfe tears, deceits, difguifes,com Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes;

Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine:

Pureft love's unvafting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leifure,
Days of eafe, and nights of pleasure;

Sacred Hymen! thefe are thine. a)

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a) These two Chorus's are enough to fhew us his great talents for this fpecies of Poetry, and to make us lament he did not profecute his purpose in executing fome plans he had chalk'd out; but the character of the Managers of Playhouses was what (he faid) foon determined him to lay afide all thoughts of that nature.

O D E

on

SOLITUDE a).

APPY the inan, whose wish and care
Ha few paternal acres bound,
HAP

A

Content to breathe his native air,

In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whofe fields with bread, s Whofe flocks fupply him with attire,

<

Whose trees in fummer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years flide soft away:
In bealth of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Together mixt; fweet recreation:
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone,

Tell where I lie.

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*) This was a very early production of our Author, written

at about twelve years old.

The dying Chriftian to his SOUL. ODE).

1.

VITAL fpark of heav'nly firme:

Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, lin'ring, flyng,
Oh the pain, the blifs of dying!
Ceafe, fond Nature' cease thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life.

11.

Hark! they whifper; Angels fay,
Sifter Spirit, come away.
What is this abforbs me quite?
Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight,

Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

III.

The world recedes; it difappears!

Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With founds feraphic ring:

Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!

O Grave! where is thy Victory;

O Death! where is thy Sting?

NOTES.

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4) This ode was written in imitation of the famous fonner of Hadrian to his departing foul; but as much fuperior to his original in fenfe and fublimity, as the Chriftian Religion is to the Pagan.

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