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“ Brute beasts possess the hill, and shady wood ;. " Much do the lakes, but more the ocean's flood (Which severs realıms, and shores divided leaves), “ Take from the land by interposing waves ; “ One third, by freezing cold and burning heat, 185 “ Lies a deform’d, inhospitable seat ; “ The rest, unl 'd, would by nature breed “ Wild brambles only, and the noxious weed, “ Did not industrious man, with endless toil, “ Extort his food from the reluctant soil;

190 “ Did not the farmer's steel the furrow wound, “ And harrows tear the harvest from the ground, “ The earth would no spontaneous fruits afford To man, her vain imaginary Lord.

Oft', when the labouring hind has plough'd the field, “ And forc'd the glebe unwillingly to yield, When green and flowery Nature crowns his hope “ With the gay promise of a plenteous crop, “ The fruits (sad ruin !) perish on the ground, • Burnt by the Sun, or by the deluge drown'd; • Or foon decay, by snows immoderate chillid, “ By winds are blasted, or by lightning kill’d. “ Nature, besides, the favage beast sustains, Breeds in the hills the terror of the plains, • To man a fatal race. Could this be so,

205 “ Did gracious Gods dispose of things below? “ Their proper plagues with annual seasons come, “ And deaths untimely blast us in the bloom. Man at his birth (unhappy son of grief!) Is helpless cast on the wide coasts of life,






BLACKMORE'S POEMS. “ In want of all things whence our comforts flow; “ A fad and moving fpectacle of woe. « Infants in ill-presaging cries complain, “ As conscious of a coming life of pain. * All things meantime to beafts kind Nature grants, « Prevents their sufferings, and fupplies their wants ; “ Brought forth with ease, they grow, and skip, and “ No dangling nurse, or jingling gewgaw, need; [feed, “ In caves they Jurk, or o'er the mountains range, “ Nor ever through the year their garment change; 220 “ Unvers’d in arms, and ignorant of war, “ They need no forts, and no invafion fear; “ Whate'er they want, from Nature's hand they gain ; “ The life the gave, she watches to maintain.”

Thus impotent in fenfe, though strong in rage, 225
The daring Roman does the Gods engage :
But undismay'd we face th' intrepid foe,
Sustain his onset, and thus ward the blow.

Suppose defects in this terrestrial seat,
That Nature is not, as you urge, compleat ;
That a divine and wife Artificer
Might greater wonders of his art confer,
And might with ease on man, and man's abode,
More bounty, more perfection, have bestow'd;
if in this lower world he has not shown
His utmost skill, fay, has he therefore none ?
We in productions arbitrary fee
Marks of perfection, different in degree.
'Though masters now more skill, now less impart,
Yet are not all their works the works of art ?





Do poets still sublimer subjects fing,
Still stretch to Heaven a bold aspiring wing,
Nor e'er descend to flocks and labouring fwains,
Frequent the floods, or range the humble plains ?
Did, Grecian Phidias, all thy pieces shine 245
With equal beauty? or, Apelles, thine ?
Or Raphael's pencil never chuse to fall ?
Say, are his works Transfigurations all?
Did Buonorota never build, o Rome,
A meaner fructure, than thy wondrous dome ? 250
Though, in their works applauded as their best, 7
Greater design and genius are exprest,
Yet is there none acknowledg'd in the rest?

In all the parts of Nature's spacious fphere
Of art, ten thousand miracles appear :

255 And will you not the Author's skill adore, Because

you think he might discover more ? You own a watch th' invention of the mind, Though for a single motion 'tis defign’d As well as that, which is with greater thought, 260 With various springs, for various motions wrought.

An independent, wise, and conscious Cause, Who freely acts by arbitrary laws, Who at connexion and at order aims, Creatures distinguish'd in perfe&tion frames. 265 Unconscious causes only still impart Their utmost skill, their utmost power exert. Those, which can freely chufe, discern, and know, In acting can degrees of vigour show, And more or less of art or care bestow.



If all perfection were in all things shown,
All beauty, all variety, were gone.

As this inferior habitable seat
By different parts is made one whole compleat;
So our low world is only one of those,
Which the capacious universe compose.
Now to the universal whole advert;
The earth regard as of that whole a part,
In which wide frame more noble worlds abound;
Witness, ye glorious orbs, which hang around, 280
Ye shining planets, that in æther stray,
And thou, bright lord and ruler of the day !
Witness, ye ftars, which beautify the skies,
How much do your vast globes in height and size,
In beauty and magnificence, outgo

283 Our ball of earth, that hangs in clouds below! Between yourselves too is distinction found, Of different bulk, with different glory crown'd; The people, which in your bright regions dwell, Must this low world's inhabitants excell;

290 And, fince to various planets they agree, 'They from each other must distinguish'd be, And own perfections different in degree.

When we on fruitful Nature's care reflect, And her exhaustless energy respect,

295 That stocks this globe, which you Lucretians call The world's coarse dregs, which to the bottom fall, With numerous kinds of life, and bounteous fills With breathing guests the vallies, foods, and hills; We may pronounce each orb sustains a race Of living things adapted to the place,




Were the refulgent parts and most refind
Only to serve the dark and base design'd?
Were all the stars, those beauteous realms of light,
At distance only hung to shine by night, 305
And with their twinkling beams to please our sight?
How many roll in æther, which the

Could ne'er, till aided by the glass, descry,
And which no commerce with the earth maintain ?
Are all those glorious empires made in vain.

Now, as I said, the globe terrestrial view
As of the whole a part, a mean one too.
Though 'tis not like th' ætherial worlds refind,
Yet is it just, and finish'd in its kind;
Has all perfection which the place demands,

315 Where in coherence with the rest it stands. Were to your view the universe display'd, And all the scenes of nature open laid ; Could you their place, proportion, harmony, Their beauty, order, and dependence, fee,

You'd grant our globe had all the marks of art,
All the perfection due to such a part,
Though not with lustre, or with magnitude,
Like the bright stars, or brighter sun, endued.

You oft declaim on man's unhappy fate;
Insulting, oft' demand in this debate,
If the kind Gods could such a wretch create ?

But whence can this unhappiness arise ?
You say, as soon as born, he helpless lies,
And mourns his woes in ill-presaging cries. 330
But does not Nature for the child prepare
The parent's love, the nurse's tender care,



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