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If they with purer drops dilate,
And lodge where entity began,
They actuate with a genial heat,
And kindle into future Man.
But, when our lives are Nature's due,
Air, feas, nor fire, their frames diffolve
They matter, through all forms, pursue,
And oft to genial heats revolve.
Thus once an Animalcule prov'd,
When Man, a patron to the bays;
This patron was in Greece belov'd;
Yet fame was faithlefs to his praise.
In Rome this Animalcule grew
Mæcenas, whom the claffics rate!
Among the Gauls, it prov'd Richlieu,
In learning, power, and bounty great.
In Britain, Halifax it rofe;
(By Halifax, bloom'd Congreve's strains); And now it rediminish'd glows,
To glide through goal:ke Rutland's veins.
A plague there is, too many know;
Too feldom perfect cures befall it:
The Mufe may term it Beauty's foe;
In phyfic, the Small-Pox we call it.
From Turks we learn this plague t' affuage,
They, by admitting, turn its course :
Their kifs will tame the tumor's rage;
By yielding, they o'ercome the force.
Thus Rutland did its touch invite,
While, watchful in the ambient air,
This little, guardian, fubtil fpright
Did with the poison in repair.
Th' infection from the heart it clears;
Th' infection, now dilated thin,
In pearly pimples but appears,
Expell'd upon the surface skin.
And now it, mouldering, waftes away :
'Tis gone!-doom'd to return no more!
Our Animalcule keeps its stay,
And muft new labyrinths explore.
And now the Noble's thoughts are seen,
Unmark'd, it views his heart's defires!
It now reflects what it has been,
And, rapturous, at his change admires!
T:s pristine virtues kept, combine,
To be again in Rutland known
But they, immers'd, no longer fhine,
Nor equal, nor encrease his own.
DOOM'D to a fate which damps the poet's flame,
A Muse, unfriended, greets thy rifing name!
Unvers'd in envy's, or in flattery's phrafe,
Greatness the flies, yet merit claims her praise ;
Nor will fhe, at her withering wreath repine,
But fmile, if fame and fortune cherish thine.
The Sciences in thy fweet genius charm,
And, with their strength, thy fex's foftnefs arm.
In thy full figures, painting's force we find,
As mufic fires, thy language lifts the mind.
Thy power gives form, and touches into life
The paffions imag'd in their bleeding ftrife:
Contrafted ftrokes, true art and fancy show,
And lights and shades in lively mixture flow.
Hope attacks Fear, and Reason, Love's control,
Jealoufy wounds, and Friendflip heals the foul:
Black Falfehood wears bright Gallantry's difguife,
And the gilt cloud enchants the fair-one's eyes.
Thy dames, in grief and frailties lovely shine,
And when moft mortal half appear divine.
If, when fome god-like, favourite paffion fways,
The willing heart too fatally obeys,
Great minds lament what cruel censure blames,
And ruin'd virtue generous pity claims.
Eliza, till impaint Love's powerful Queen! Let Love, foft Love, exalt each swelling scene. Arm'd with keen wit, in fame's wide lifts advance!
Spain yields in fiction, in politeness France.
Such orient light, as the firft poets knew,
Fiames from thy thought, and brightens every view! 30
A strong, a glorious, a luxuriant fire,
Which warms cold wisdom into wild defire!
Thy Fable glows fo rich through every page,
What moral's force can the fierce heat affuage?
And yet but fay if ever doom'd to prove
The fad, the dear perplexities of Love!
Where seeming transport softens every pain,
Where fancy'd freedom waits the winning chain ;
Varying from pangs to visionary joys,
Sweet is the fate, and charms as it deftroys!
Say then if Love to fudden rage gives way,
Will the foft paffion not refume its sway?
Charming, and charm'd, can Love from Love retire ?
Can a cold convent quench th' unwilling fire?
Precept, if human, may our thoughts refine,
More we admire! but cannot prove divine.
LONG OMITTED WRITING IN VERSE.
In Imitation of a certain Mimic of Anacreon.
ANI matchlefs charms recite ?
Source of ever fpringing light!
Could I count the vernal flowers,
Count in endlefs time the hours;
Count the countless ftars above,
Count the captive hearts of Love ;
Paint the torture of his fire,
Paint the pangs thofe eyes inspire !
(Pleafing torture, thus to fhine,
Purify'd by fires like thine!)
Then I'd strike the founding fring!
Then I'd thy perfection fing.
Myftic world!-Thou fomething more!
Wonder of th' Almighty's fore!
Nature's depths we oft defery,
Oft they're pierc'd by Learning's eye;
Thou, if thought on thee would gain,
Prov'ft (like heaven) enquiry vain.
Charms unequal'd we pursue !
Charms in fhining throngs we view!
Number'd then could nature's be,
Nature's felf were poor to thee.