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Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay,
Giv't beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.

O give me liberty ;
For were even paradise itself my prison,
Still I should long to leap the crystal walls.


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OBILITY of blood Is but a glittring and fallacious good. The Nobleman is he, whose noble mind Is fill'd with inbred worth, unborrow'd from his kind. Virtue alone is true nobility : Let your own acts immortalize

your name, 'Tis poor relying on another's fame : For take the pillars but away, and all The superstructure must in ruins fall; As a vine droops, when by divorce remov'd From the embraces of the elm she lov’d.

Dryden's JUVENAL



WHY art thou fled, O bleft poetic time,

When Fancy wrought the miracles of rhyme;



When, darting from her star-encircled throne,
Her poet's eye commanded worlds unknown;
When, by her fiat made a mimic god,
He saw existence waiting on his nod,
And at his pleasure into being brought
New shadowy hosts, the vallals of his thought,
In Joy's gay garb, in Terror's dread array,
Darker than night and brighter than the day:
Who, at his bidding, thro' the wilds of air,
Rais’d willing mortals far from earthly care,
And led them wondering through his wide domain,
Beyond the bounds of Nature's narrow reign ;
While their rapt fpirits, in the various flight,
Shook with successive thrills of new delight?

Return, sweet season, grac'd with fiction's flowers,
Let not cold system cramp thy genial powers !
Shall mild Morality, in garb uncouth,
The housewife garb of plain and homely truth,
Robb’d by ftern Method of her rofy crown,
Chill her faint votaries by a wintry frown?
No, thou sweet friend of man, as suits thee best,
Shine forth in Fable's rich-embroider'd vest !
O make my verse thy vehicle, thy arms
To spread o'er social life thy potent charms !
And thou, Sophrofyne, mysterious sprite !
If haply I may trace thy steps aright,
Roving thro' paths untrod by mortal feet,
To paint for human eyes the heavenly seat,
Shed on my soul fome portion of that power,
Which fav'd * Serena in the trying hour,

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To bear those trials, which, however hard,
As Bards all tell us, may befal the bard ;
The Fop's pert jeft, the Critic's frown severe,
Learning's proud cant, with Envy's artful sneer,
And, the vext Poet's last and worst disgrace,
His cold blank Bookseller's rhyme-freezing face.
Hence! dark omens, that to spleen belong,
Ye shall not check the current of my song,
While Beauty's lovely race, for whom I fing,
Fire my warm hand to strike the ready ftring.



S E C T.





The gates

HESE precincts past, now hand in hand they came

To the rich fabric of majestic frame ;
Instinct with joy their sovereign to behold,

of massive adamant unfold i
And, as the gently-moving valves unclofe,
Mysterious music from their motion flows;
The airy notes thro' all the palace roam,
And dulcet echoes fill the festive dome :

gorgeous hall amaz’d Serena's eyes, Compard to which, in splendour, strength, and size, The nobleft works of which tradition fings, Judaic shrine, or seat of Memphian kings, Would seem more humble than the waxen cell In which the skilful Bee is proud to dwell. 6.



Here fats a power, in whose angelic face
Beauty is sweeten'd by maternal grace ;
Her radiant seat, surpassing mortal art,
Supports an emblem of her liberal heart,
A Pelican, who rears her callow brood,
And from her vitals seems to draw their food.
Around this fpirit flock a filial host,
Who bless her empire, and her guidance boaft.
Here every Science, all the Arts attend,
In her they hail their parent and their friend;
Each to her presence brings the happy few,
Whose dearest glory from her favour grew.
Here, in her simple charms, with youthful fire,
Proud to display the magic of her lyre,
Soul-foothing Harmony presents her band;
Beside her Orpheus and Amphion stand.
Here, mild Philosophy, whose thoughtful frown
Is fweetly shaded by her olive crown,
(In all her attic elegance array'd,
Strong to convince, and gentle to persuade)
To her, whose breath inspir'd his every rule,
Leads the blest Sire of the Socratic school.
Each animating bard and moral sage,
The heaven-taught minds of every clime and age,
Who soften'd manners, and refin'd the soul,
Flock to his presence, as to glory's goal ;
And, as the mother's heart, that yearns to bless
The rival innocents that round her press,
Delights to see them, as her love they share,
Sport in her fight, and flourish by her care ;
Fondly responsive to their every call,
Tender of each, and provident for all ;


So this sweet image of Celestial Grace,
Who fits encircled by her lovely race,
To every Science vital strength imparts,
And rears the circle of the Social Arts ;
With such solicitude she gives to each,
Powers of sublimer aim and wider reach.

And now Sophrofyne, who near her preft,
Thus spoke her title to her earthly guest :
“Behold the honour'd Form, withoạt whose aid
“ My strength muft vanish, and my glory fade!
"Source of my being, and my life's support!
Eunoia call'd in this celestial court,
Benevolence the name she bears on earth,
“ The guard of weakness, and the friend of worth."

She ended : and the mild maternal form
Embrac'd Serena with a smile as warm
As the gay spirit Vegetation wears,
When she to crown her favourite nymph prepares,
When pleas'd her flowery treasures to display,
She pours them in the lap of youthful May.

But how, Serena, how may human speech
Thy heav'nly raptures in this moment reach ?
If aught of earthly sentiment may vie
With the pure joy these happy scenes fupply,
'Tis when, unmixt with trouble and with pain,
Love glides in secret thro' the glowing vein ;
When some fond youth, unconscious of its fire,
Free from chill fear and turbulent desire,
With every thought abforb'd in soft delight,
Sees all creation in his fair one's fight,
And feels a blissful ftate without a name,
Repose of soul, with harmony of frame.



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