And all that Youth can be, thou'rt yet! Enjoy the manhood and the bloom of Wit, Here hoary froits, and by them breaks-out fire! Nature and Caufes, we fhall fee To things immortal, Time can do no wrong, TRANGE and unnatural! let's stay and fee This page at of a prodigy. Lo, of themselves th' enliven'd Chefs-men move! Lo, the unbred, ill organ'd pieces prove As full of art and industry, Of courage and of policy, As we ourselves, who think there's nothing wife but we! Here a proud Pawn I admire, That, ftill advancing higher, Another thing and name; Here I'm amaz'd at th' actions of a Knight, For thofe falfe Moves that break the Game, And, above all, th' ill-conduct of the Mated King. Whate'er these feem, whate'er philofophy "These things have life, election, liberty; ""Tis their own wifdem moulds their ftate, "Their faults and virtues make their fate. "They do, they do," said I; but strait Lo! from my enlighten'd eyes the mifts and shadows fell, That hinder fpirits from being visible; With her own hand fhe fashioned; She did a covenant with me make, And circumcis'd my tender foul, and thus fhe spake: "Thou of my church fhalt be; "Hate and renounce," said she, "Wealth, honour, pleasures, all the world, for me. VOL. II. "Content thyself with the small barren praise, Took their unlucky doom. And fome fmall light it did dispense, No matter, Cowley! let proud Fortune fee, thee. Let all her gifts the portion be Rebellion and Hypocrify; Do thou not grieve, nor blush to be, And all thy great forefathers, were, from Homer down to Ben. BRUTU S. EXCELLENT Brutus! of all human race The gentle, vigorous influence in all their contrariety: Each had his motion natural and free, And the whole no more mov'd than the whole world could be. As 'tis no wonder, fo, If with dejected eye In standing pools we feck the fky, That ftars, fo high above, fhould feem to us below. Can we ftand by and fee Our mother robb'd, and bound, and ravifh'd be, Yet not to her aflance ftir, Pleas'd with the strength and beauty of the ravifher? Or fhall we fear to kill him, if before The cancel'd name of friend he bore? There's none but Brutus could deferve That all men elfe fhould wish to ferve,! And Cæfar's ufurp'd place to him fhould proffer; Nene can deferve 't but he who would refuse the offer. I!! Fate affum'd a body thee t' affright, -And wrap'd itself i' th' terrors of the night: "I'll meet thee at Philippi," faid the fprite; "I'll meet thee there," faidit thou, With fuch a voice, and fuch a brow, As put the trembling ghoft to fudden flight; It vanish'd, as a taper's light Goes out when fpirits appear in fight. One would have thought 't heard the morning crow, Or feen her well-appointed flar Come marching up the Eastern hill afar. Nor durft it in Philippi's field appear, But unfeen attack'd thee there : Had it prefum'd in any fhape thee to oppofe, Thou fhould't have forc'd it back upon thy foes: Or flain 't, like Cæfar, though it be A conqueror and a monarch mightier far than he. What joy can human thing; to us afford, The beft caufe and beft man thatever drew a fword? The falfe Octavius and wild Antony, God-like Brutus! conquer thee? An idol only, and a name. Too deep for all thy judgment and thy wit. Which these great fecrets fhall unfeal, A few years more, fo foon hadft thou not dy'd, TO DR. SCARBOROUGH. [OW long, alas! has our mad nation been Hof epidemic war the tragic feens, When Slaughter all the while Seem'd like its fea, embracing round the ifle, Would now untill'd, defert, and naked stand, At the fame time let loofe Difeafes' rage A medicine, and a counter-peifon to the age. By wondrous art, and by fuccefsful care, The inundations of all liquid Pain, And deluge Dropfy, thou doll drain. Fevers, fo hot that one would fay Thou might'ft as foon hell-fires allay (The damn'd fearce more incurable than they Thou doft fo temper, that we find, Like gold, the body but refin'd, No unhealthful dros behind. The fubtle Ague, that for furenefs' fake That's fometimes roll'd away in vain, The Indian fon of Luft (that foul difeafe Which did on this his new-found world but late feize, Yet fince a tyranny has planted here, From creeping mofs to foaring cedar thou Chiefly of man, whofe body is But whole Apollo is thine own; His gentler arts, belov'd in vain by me, Are wedded and enjoy'd by thee. Thou'rt by this noble mixture free From the phyficians' frequent malady, Fantaftic incivility: There are who all their patients' chagrin have, And this great race of learning thou haft run, Thou fee'ft thyself still fresh and strong, For thou doft make Life long, and Art but short. Ah, learn'd friend! it grieves me, when I think That thou with all thy art must die, As certainly as I; And all thy noble reparations fink Into the fure-wrought mine of treacherous mortality. Like Archimedes, honourably in vain, Thou hold'st out towns that muft at last be ta'en, Tenjoy at once their health and thee: Some hours, at least to thine own pleasures spare: Since the whole ftock may foon exhausted be, Beftow 't not all in charity. Let Nature and let Art do what they please, When all's done, Life is an incurable difcafe. LIFE AND FAME. H, Life! thou Nothing's younger brother! In all the cobwebs of the fchoolmen's trade, From the falfe glories of the gay refleted bow, Is a more folid thing than thou. Vain, weak-built ifthmus, which doft proudly rife Up betwixt two eternities! Yet cauft nor wave nor wind fuftain, But, broken and o'erwhelm'd, the endlefs ocean meet again. And with what rare inventions do we frive That Nothing Man's no wit!- "Here lies the great"-falfe marble! where? Nothing but small and fordid duft lies there.Some build enormous mountain-palaces, The fools and architects to pleafe; A lafting life in well hewn flone they rear: He, fince that toy his death, Does fill all mouths, and breathes in all men's breath. "Tis true, the two immortal fyllables remain; In thofe alone does the great Cæfar live, "Tis all the conquer'd world could give. With a refin'd fantaftic vanity, Think we not only have, but give, eternity. Who his to-morrow would beftow, For all old Homer's life, e'er fince he dy'd till now! The foft clouds melted him away; I pafs by th' arch'd magazines which hold Nor fhake with fear or cold: Without affright or wonder I meet clouds charg'd with thunder, Like harmless lambent fires about my temples play. As flames mount up through air: So great, fo pure, fo bright a fire, My faithful breaft did cover, Then, when I was of late a wretched mortal lover. Through feveral orbs which one fair planet bear, Where I behold diftinctly, as I pafs The hints of Galileo's glafs, I touch at last the fpangled fphere: Is but one galaxy, 'Tis all fo bright and gay, And the joint eyes of night make up a perfect day. Where am I now? Angels, and God is here; Swallows my fenfes quite, And drowns all What, or How, or Where! The tyrannous pleasure could exprefs. Oh, 'tis too much for man! but let it ne'er be lefs! The mighty' Elijah mounted fo on high, And went not downwards to the sky! (As conquering kings in triumph go) Did he to heaven approach, And wondrous was his way, and wondrous was his coach. 'Twas gaudy all; and rich in every part Of effences, of gems; and fpirit of gold Was its fubftantial mould, Drawn forth by chemic angels' art. And mystic shapes cut round in it, Figures that did tranfcend a vulgar angel's wit. The horses were of temper'd lightning made, And flaming manes their necks array'd: But fuch light folid ones as fhine Thus mounted the great Prophet to the skies; Or that which fo they call, The fnow and frofts which in it lay The wheels and horfes' hoofs hizz'd as they paft them o'er! He paft by th' moon and planets, and did fright All the worlds there which at this meteor gaz'd, And their aftrologers amaz'd With th' unexampled fight. But where he ftopp'd will ne'er be known, To' a better thing do afpire, And mount herself, like him, to' eternity in fire. If then, young Year! thou needst must come The birth beyond its time can never tarry, Chufe thy attendants well; for 'tis not thee Let neither Lofs of Friends, or Fame, or Liberty, Nay, if thou lov't me, gentle Year! Vain fruitless Love, I mean; for gentle Year! There's of this caution little need, Yet, gentle Year! take heed Such a mistake: Such Love I mean, alone, As by thy cruel predeceffors has been shown; I fain would try for once if Life can live without it. Into the future times why do we pry, Like jealous men, why are we longing ftill That would ev'n happiest men affright; And fomething still they'd spy that would deftroy The paft and prefent joy. In whatsoever character The book of Fate is writ, We fhould grow mad with little learning there; Undecently and foolishly We fhould stand shivering, and but flowly venture Since, willing or unwilling, we muft do it, into it. Because we heap up yellow earth, and fo From hieroglyphic proofs of heraldry, And, like Egyptian chroniclers, Who write of twenty thousand years, With maravedies make th' account, That fingle time might to a fum amount: We grow at laft by cuftom to believe, That really we Live: Whilft all these Shadows, that for Things we take, Are but the empty dreams which in Death's fleep we make. But these fantastic errors of our dream We pray God our friends' torments to prolong, To be as long a dying as Met hufalem. The ripen'd foul longs from his prifon to come; But we would feal, and fow up, if we could, the womb : We seek to close and plaifter up by art The noble vigorous bird already wing'd to part. To the grave's fruitful womb, This wretched inn, where we fcarce stay to bait, We call one step a race: But angels, in their full enlighten'd state, Angels, who Live, and know what 'tis to Be; Who all the nonfenfe of our language fee; Who fpeak Things, and our words, their ill-drawn pictures, fcorn; When, we, by' a foolish figure, fay, "Behold an old man dead!" then they Speak properly, and cry, "Behold a man-child born!" My eyes are open'd, and I fee Like men of bufinefs; and for business walk And mighty voyages we take, And mighty journeys feem to make, O'er fea and land, the little point that has no fpace: Because we fight, and battles gain; Some captives call, and fay," the reft are flain :" THE THIRTY-FOURTH CHAPTER OF THE PROPHET ISAIAH. AWAKE, and with attention hear, Thou drowsy World! for it concerns thee near; Awake, I fay, and liften well, Than e'er was rais'd by God before, To fcourge the rebel world, and march it round about. I fee the fword of God brandifh'd above, How red anon with flaughter will it prove! And devour all the mighty feaft! The altar all the land, and all men in 't the victims are. Since, wicked men's more guilty blood to spare, |