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That fure the Sibyls books this year foretold,
And in fome myftic Leaf was feen inroll'd,

Rome, turn thy mournful eyes from Afric's fhore,
• Nor in her fands 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 shall rear,
And ev'ry gen'rous Briton pay a tear.

J. HUGHES,

WHAT do we fee! is Cato then become

A greater name in Britain than in Rome ?

A

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,
Rife in your lines with more exalted charms;
Hluftrious deeds in diftant nations wrought,
And virtues by departed Heroes taught,
Raife in your foul a pure immortal flame,
Adorn your life, and confecrate your fame ;
To your renown all ages you fubdue,
And Cæfar fought, and Cato bled for you.

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IS nobly done thus to enrich the ftage,

And raise the thoughts of a degenerate age,
To show, how endless joys from freedom Spring:
How life in bondage is a worthless thing.
The inborn greatness of your foul we view,
You tread the paths frequented by the few.
With fo much firength you write, and so much case,
Virtue, and fenfe! how durft you hope to please?
Yet crowds the fentiments of every line

Impartial clap'd, and own'd the work divine.
Even the four Critics, who malicious came,
Eager to cenfure, and refolv'd to blame,
Finding the Hero regularly rife,

Great, while he lives, but greater when he dies,
Sullen approv'd, too obftinate to melt,

And ficken'd with the pleasures, which they felt.
Not fo the Fair their paffions fecret kept,
Silent they heard, but as they heard, they wept,
When gloriously the blooming Marcus dy'd,
And Cato told the Gods, I'm fatisfy'd.

See! how your lays the British youth inflame!
They long to fhoot, and ripen into fame;
Applauding theatres difturb their reft,
And unborn Cato's heave in every breast ;

Their

Their nightly dreams their daily thoughts repeat,
And pulfes high with fancy'd glories beat.
So, griev'd to view the Marathonian spoils,
The young Themistocles vow'd equal toils;
Did then bis fchemes of future honours draw
From the long triumphs which with tears he faw.

How fhall 1 your unrival'd worth proclaim,
Loft in the spreading circle of your fame!
We faw you the great William's praise rehearse,
And paint Britannia's joys in Roman verse.
We heard at diftance foft, inchanting firains,
From blooming mountains, and Italian Plains.
Virgil began in English dress to shine,

His voice, his looks, his grandeur ftill divine.
From him too soon unfriendly you withdrew,
But brought the tuneful Ovid to our view.
Then, the delightful theme of every tongue,
Th' 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 conquefts you enlarg'd your fame.
With boundless raptures here the Mufe could fwell,
And on your Rofamond for ever dwell:
There opening fweets, and every fragrant flower
Luxuriant fmile, a never-fading bower.

Next, human follies kindly to expofe,

You change from numbers, but not fink in profe:
Whether in vifionary fcenes you play,

Refine our taftes, or laugh our crimes away.
Now, by the buskin'd Mufe you fhine confeft,
The Patriot kindles in the Poet's breast.
Such energy of fense might pleasure raise,
Tho' unembellifb'd with the charms of phrafe:
Such charms of phrafe would with fuccefs be crown'd,
Tho' nonfenfe flow'd in the melodious found.
The chafteft Virgin needs no blushes fear,
The Learn'd themselves, not uninftructed, hear.
The Libertine, in pleasures us'd to roll,
And idly sport with an immortal soul,

Here comes, and by the virtuous Heathen taught,
Turns pale, and trembles at the dreadful thought.

When e'er you traverse vaft Numidia's plains,
What fluggish Briton in his Ifle remains ?
When Juba Seeks the Tiger with delight,
We beat the thicket, and provoke the fight.
By the defcription warm'd, we fondly fweat,
And in the chilling Eaft-wind pant with heat.
What eyes bebold not, how the ftream refines,
'Till by degrees the floating mirrour shines ?
While burricanes in circling eddies play,

Tear up the fands, and fweep whole plains away.

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We forink with horror, and confefs our fear,
And all the fudden sounding ruine hear.
When purple robes, diftain'd with blood, deceive,
And make poor Marcia beautifully grieve,
When she her fecret thoughts no more conceals,
Forgets the woman, and her flame reveals,
Well may the Prince exult with noble pride,
Not for his Libyan trown, 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 pass, or which to tafle.
The fhining incidents fo jufly fall,

We

may

the whole new fcenes of transport call.

Thus jewellers confound our wandring eyes,
And with variety of gems furprise.

Here Saphires, here the Sardian Stone is feen,
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 ftand, unable where to praife,
In pleasure Sweetly loft ten thousand ways.

Trinity College,
Cambridge.

}

L. EUSDEN.

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