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Unmix'd with foreign filth, and undefil'd;

Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.


Art she had none, yet wanted none;
For nature did that want supply:
So rich in treasures of her own,

She might our boasted stores defy :
Such noble vigour did her verfe adorn,

That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born.
Her morals too were in her bofom bred,

By great examples daily fed,

What in the best of books, her father's life, fhe read.
And to be read herself she need not fear;

Each teft, and every light, her Muse will bear,
Though Epictetus with his lamp were there.
Ev'n love (for love fometimes her Muse exprest)
Was but a lambent flame which play'd about her breast:
Light as the vapours of a morning dream,

So cold herfelf, whilft fhe fuch warmth expreft,
'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's ftream.


Bora to the fpacious empire of the Nine,

One would have thought, fhe fhould have been content
To manage well that mighty government;

But what can young ambitious fouls confine?
To the next realm she stretch'd her sway,
For Painture near adjoining lay,

A plenteous province, and alluring prey.
A Chamber of Dependencies was fram'd.



As conquerors will never want pretence,
When arm'd, to justify th' offence)

And the whole fief, in right of Poetry, fhe claim'd.
The country open lay without defence:

For Poets frequent inroads there had made,
And perfectly could represent


The shape, the face, with every lineament;

And all the large domains which the Dumb Sifter fway'd. All bow'd beneath her government,

Receiv'd in triumph wherefoe'er she went. Her pencil drew, whate'er her foul defign'd, And oft the happy draught furpass'd the image in her mind.

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The fylvan fcenes of herds and flocks,
And fruitful plains and barren rocks,

Of fhallow brooks that flow'd fo clear,

The bottom did the top appear;

Of deeper too and ampler floods,

Which, as in mirrors, fhew'd the woods;
Of lofty trees, with facred shades,

And perfpectives of pleasant glades,
Where nymphs of brighteft form appear,
And fhaggy Satyrs standing near,
Which them at once admire and fear.
The ruins too of some majestic piece,
Boafting the power of ancient Rome or Greece,
Whofe ftatues, freezes, columns, broken lie,
And, though defac'd, the wonder of the eye;
What nature, art, bold fiction, e'er durft frame,
Her forming hand gave feature to the name.

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So ftrange a concourse ne'er was feen before,

But when the peopled ark the whole creation bore.

The scene then chang'd, with bold erected look
Our martial king the fight with reverence ftrook:
For, not content t' exprefs his outward part,
Her hand call'd out the image of his heart:
His warlike mind, his foul devoid of fear,
His high-defigning thoughts were figur'd there,
As when, by magic, ghofts are made appear.

Our phoenix queen was pourtray'd too so bright, Beauty alone could beauty take fo right: Her drefs, her fhape, her matchlefs grace, Were all obferv'd, as well as heavenly face. With fuch a peerless majesty she stands,


As in that day fhe took the crown from facred hands: Before a train of heroines was seen,

In beauty foremost, as in rank, the queen.

Thus nothing to her genius was deny'd,
But like a ball of fire the further thrown,
Still with a greater blaze she shone,
And her bright foul broke out on every fide.
What next she had defign'd, heaven only knows:
To fuch immoderate growth her conquest rofe,
That Fate alone its progrefs could oppose.


Now all thofe charms, that blooming grace,
The well-proportion'd fhape, and beauteous face,
Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes;
In earth the much-lamented virgin lies.


Not wit, uor piety, could fate prevent;
Nor was the cruel destiny content

To finish all the murder at a blow,

To sweep at once her life and beauty too; But, like a harden'd felon, took a pride

To work more mischievously flow,

And plunder'd first, and then destroy'd.

O double facrilege on things divine,
To rob the relick, and deface the fhrine!
But thus Orinda dy'd:

Heaven, by the same disease, did both translate; As equal were their fouls, fo equal was their fate.


Meantime her warlike brother on the feas His waving ftreamers to the winds difplays, And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays. Ah, generous youth, that wish forbear,

The winds too foon will waft thee here!
Slack all thy fails, and fear to come,

Alas, thou know'ft not, thou art wreck'd at home!
No more fhalt thou behold thy fifter's face,
Thou haft already had her laft embrace.
But look aloft, and if thou ken'ft from far
Among the Pleiads a new-kindled ftar,


any sparkles than the reft more bright; 'Tis fhe that shines in that propitious light..


When in mid-air the golden trump fhall found,
To raise the nations under ground;

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When in the valley of Jehoshaphat,

The judging God fhall close the book of fate;
And there the last affizes keep,

For those who wake, and those who sleep:
When rattling bones together fly,

From the four corners of the sky;

When finews o'er the skeletons are spread,
Those cloth'd with flesh, and life inspires the dead;
The facred poets first shall hear the found,

And foremost from the tomb fhall bound,
For they are cover'd with the lightest ground;
And ftraight, with in-born vigour, on the wing,
Like mounting larks, to the new morning fing.
There thou, fweet Saint, before the quire fhall go,
As harbinger of heaven, the way to show,
The way which thou fo well haft learnt below.


UPON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF DUNDEE. Tranflated from the Latin of Dr. PITCAIRN.

H laft and best of Scots! who did maintain


Thy country's freedom from a foreign reign; New people fill the land, now thou art gone, New gods the temples, and new kings the throne. Scotland and thou did each in other live; Nor would'ft thou her, nor could she thee survive. Farewell, who dying didst support the state, And couldft not fall but with thy country's fate.


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