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That sure the Sibyls books this year foretold,
And in fome mystic Leaf was seen inroll d,
• Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Afric's fore,
• Nor in her fards thy Cato's tomb explore!
• When thrice fix hundred times the circling Sun
• His annual race fhall thro' the Zodiac run,
• An isle remote his monument foall rear,
. And ev'ry gen'rous Briton pay a tear.
WHAT do we fee! is Cato then become
A greater name in Britain than in Rome
Does mankind now admire his virtues more,
Tho' Lucan, Horace, Virgil wrote before?
How will Pofterity this truth explain ?
" Cato begins to live in Anna's reign :
The World's great chiefs, in council or in arms,
lines with more exalted charms;
Klustrious deeds in diftant nations wrought,
And virtues by departed Heroes taught,
Raise in your soul a pure immortal flame,
Adorn your life, and confecrate your fame ;
To your renown all ages you subdue,
And Cæsar fought, and Cato bled for you.
All Souls College,
I S nobly done thus to enrich the stage,
And raise the thoughts of a degenerate age,
To flow, how endless joys from freedom spring :
How life in bondage is a wortbless thing.
The inborn greatness of your soul we view,
You tread the paths frequented by the few.
With so much strength you write, and so much case,
Virtue, and sense! how durft you hope to please?
Yet crowds the sentiments of every line
Impartial clapd, and own'd the work divine.
Even the four Critics, who malicious came,
Eager to cenfure, and resolu'd to blame,
Finding the Hero regularly rise,
Great, while he lives, but greater when be dies,
Sullen approv'd, too obftinate to melt,
And ficken'd with the pleasures, which they felt.
Not fo the Fair their passions secret kept,
Silent they beard, but as they heard, they wept,
When gloriously the blooming Marcus dy'd,
And Cato told the Gods, I'm satisfy'd,
See! how your lays the British youth inflame
They long to shoot, and ripen into fame;
Applauding theatres difturb their reji,
And unborn Cato's heave in every breast;
Their nightly dreams their daily thoughts repeat,
And pulses high with fancy'd glories beat.
So, griev'd to view the Marathonian Spoils,
The young Themiftocles vow'd equal toils;
Did then bis schemes of future honours draw
From the long triumphs which with tears he faw.
How shall I your unrivald worth proclaim, Loft in the spreading circle of your fame! We saw you the great William's praise rebearse, And paint Britannia's joys in Roman verse. We heard at diffance foft, inchanting Arains, From blooming mountains, and Italian Plain. Virgil began in English dress to shine, His voice, his looks, his grandeur fill divine. From him too foon unfriendly you withdrew, But brought the tuneful Ovid to our view. Then, the delightful theme of every tongue, Tb' immortal Marl'brough was your daring fing; From clime to clime the mighty victor flew, From clime to clime as swiftly you pursue ; Still with the Hero's glow'd the Poet's flame, Still with his conquefits you enlarg’d your fame. With bouudless raptures here the Mufe could swell, And on your Rofamond for ever dwell: There opening fweets, and every fragrant flower Luxuriant smile, a never-fading bower.
Next, buman follies kindly to expose,
You change from numbers, but not fink in prose :
Whether in vifionary scenes you play,
Refine our tastes, or laugh our crimes away.
Now, by the buskin’d Muse you shine confeft,
The Patriot kindles in the Poet's breaft.
Such energy of fenfe might pleasure raise,
Tho' unembellisl’d with the charms of phrase :
Such charms of phrase would with success be crown'd,
Tho' nonsense flow'd in the melodious found.
The chajief Virgin needs no blushes fear,
The Learn'd themselves, not uninstructed, hear.
The Libertine, in pleasures us’d to roll,
And idly Sport with an immortal foul,
Here comes, and by the virtuous Heathen taught,
Turns pale, and trembles at the dreadful thought.
When c'er you traverse vaft Numidia's plains,
Wbat sluggish Briton in his Isle remains ?
When Juba seeks the Tiger with delight,
We beat the thicket, and provoke the fight.
By the description warmd, we fondly sweat,
And in the chilling Eaft-wind pant with heat.
What eyes behold not, how the stream refines,
'Till by degrees the floating mirrour shines ?
While hurricanes in circling eddies play,
Tear up the fands, and sweep whole plains away.
We forink with horror, and confess our fear,
And all the sudden founding ruine hear.
When purple robes, diftain'd with blood, deceive,
And make poor Marcia beautifully grieve,
When she her secret thoughts no more conceals,
Forgets the woman, and her flame reveals,
the Prince exult with noble pride, Not for bis Libyan crown, but Roman bride.
But I in vain on fingle features dwell,
While all the parts of the fair piece excell.
So rich the ftore, fo dubious is the feaft,
We know not, which to påss, or which to taste.
The shining incidents so jusly fall,
may the whole new scenes of transport call.
Thus jewellers confound our wandring eyes,
And with variety of gems surprise.
Here Saphires, here the Sardian Stone is seen,
The Topaz yellow, and the Jasper green.
The coftly Brilliant there, confus'dly bright,
From numerous furfaces darts trembling light.
The different colours mingling in a blaze,
Silent we stand, unable where to praise,
In pleasure fweetly loft ten thousand ways.