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fatling together, and a little child fhall lead them.--And the lion fhall eat ftraw like the ox. And the fucking child fhall play on the hole of the afp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the den of the cockatrice.'

V. 85. Rife crown'd with light, imperial Salem rife !]

The thoughts of Ifaiah, which compofe the latter part of the poem, are wonderfully elevated, and much above those general exclamations of Virgil, which make the loftieft part of his Pollio.

Magnus ab integro feclorum nafcitur ordo! -toto furget gens aurea mundo!

-incipient magni procedere menfes !

Afpice, venturo laetentur ut omnia faeclo! etc.

The reader needs only turn to the paffages of Ifaiah, as they are cited in the margins of the preceding Eclogue.


To the Right Honourable


Non injuffa cano: Te noftrae, Vare, myricae,
Te Nemus omne canet; nec Phoebo gratior ulla est,
Quam fibi quae Vari prefcripfit pagina nomen.


To the Right Honourable



'HY forefts, Windfor! and thy green retreats, At once the monarch's and the mufe's feats, Invite my lays. Be prefent, fylvan maids!

Unlock your fprings, and open all you shades. Granville commands; your aid, O muses, bring! What mufe for Granville can refuse to fing?

The groves of Eden, vanish'd now fo long,
Live in description, and look green in song :
Thefe, were my breast inspir'd with equal flame,
Like them in beauty, fhould be like in fame.
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,
Here earth and water feem to strive again;
Not Chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confus'd:
Where order in variety we fee,

And where, tho' all things differ, all agree.
Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display,
And part admit, and part exclude the day;
As fome coy nymph her lover's warm address
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.
There, interfpers'd in lawns and opening glades,
Thin trees arise that shun each other's fhades.

Here in full light the ruffet plains extend :
There, wrapt in clouds the blueish hills afcend.
Even the wild heath displays her purple dyes,
And midft the defart, fruitful fields arife,

That crown'd with tufted trees and springing corn,,
Like verdant ifles the fable waste adorn.

Let India boaft her plants, nor envy we
The weeping amber, or the balmy tree,
While by our oaks the precious loads are born,
And realms commanded which thofe trees adorn.
Not proud Olympus yields a nobler fight,
Tho' Gods affembled grace his towering height,
Than what more humble mountains offer here,
Where, in their bleffings, all those Gods appear.
See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd,
Here blushing Flora paints th' enamel'd ground,
Here Ceres gifts in waving profpect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand;
Rich Industry fits fimiling on the plains,
And peace and plenty tell, a STUART reigns.
Not thus the land appear'd in ages past,

A dreary defart, and a gloomy waste,
To favage beafts and favage laws a prey,
And kings more furious and fevere than they ;
Who claim'd the skies, difpeopled air and floods,
The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods:
Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens and caves,
(For wifer brutes were backward to be flaves.)
What could be free, when lawless beasts obey'd,
And even the elements a tyrant fway d?

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