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Alone in nature stands his dauntless race,
For utter ignorance of fear renown'd,
In wrath he rolls his baleful eye around :
Makes every swoln, disdainful heart, subside,
And holds dominion o'er the sons of pride.

Then the Chaldæan eas'd his lab'ring breast,
With full conviction of his crime opprest.

“ Thou canst accomplish all things, Lord of And every thought is naked to thy sight. (might: But, oh! thy ways are wonderful, and lie Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye. Oft have I heard of thine Almighty power; But never saw thee till this dreadful hour. O’erwhelm'd with shame, the Lord of life I see, Abhor myself, and give my soul to thee. Nor shall my weakness tempt thine anger more: Man is not made to question, but adore.”

ON MICHAEL ANGELO'S FAMOUS PIECE OF

THE CRUCIFIXION ;

WHO IS SAID TO HAVE STABBED A PERSON THAT HE

MIGHT DRAW IT MORE NATURALLY.1

Whilst his Redeemer on his canvass dies,
Stabb’d at his feet his brother weltering lies :
The daring artist, cruelly serene,
Views the pale cheek and the distorted mien;

| Though the report was propagated without the least truth, it may be sufficient ground to justify a poetical fancy's enlarging on it.

192

EPITAPH ON LORD AUBREY BEAUCLERK.

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He sicken'd soon to death; and, what is worse,
He well deserv’d, and felt, the coward's curse;
Unpitied, scorn'd, insulted his last hour,
Far, far from home, and in a vassal's power:
His pale cheek rested on his shameful chain,
No friend to mourn, no flatterer to feign;
No suit retards, no comfort soothes his doom,
And not one tear bedews a monarch's tomb.
Nor ends it thus-dire vengeance to complete,
His ancient empire falling shares his fate:
His throne forgot! his weeping country chain'd!
And nations ask—where Alexander reign'd.
As public woes a prince's crime pursue,
So public blessings are his virtue's due.
Shout, Britons, shout-auspicious fortune bless!
And

cry, Long live-Our title to success!

EPITAPH

ON LORD AUBREY BEAUCLERK, IN WESTMINSTER

ABBEY, 1740.

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Whilst Britain boasts her empire o'er the deep,
This marble shall compel the brave to weep:
As men, as Britons, and as soldiers, mourn;
'Tis dauntless, loyal, virtuous Beauclerk's urn.

i Lord Aubrey Beauclerk was the eighth son of the Duke of St. Albans, who was one of the sons of King Charles the Second.

He was born in the year 1711; and, being regularly bred to the sea service, in 1731 he was appointed to the command of his majesty's ship the

Sweet were his manners, as his soul was great,
And ripe his worth, though immature his fate ;
Each tender grace that joy and love inspires,
Living, he mingled with his martial fires :
Dying, he bid Britannia's thunders roar;
And Spain still felt him, when he breath'd no more.

EPITAPH AT WELWYN, HERTFORDSHIRE.

IF fond of what is rare, attend !
Here lies an honest man,

Of perfect piéty,
Of lamblike patience,

My friend, James Barker;
To whom I pay this mean memorial,
For what deserves the greatest.

An example
Which shone through all the clouds of fortune,

Industrious in low estate,

Ludlow Castle ; and he commanded the Prince Frederick at the attack of the harbour of Carthagena, March 24, 1741. This young nobleman was one of the most promising commanders in the king's service. When on the desperate attack of the castle of Bocca Chica, at the entrance of the said harbour, he lost his life, both his legs being first shot off. The prose part of the inscription on his monument was the production of Mrs. Mary Jones of Oxford; who also wrote a poem on his death, printed in her Miscellanies, 8vo. 1752.-R. VOL. II.

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The lesson and reproach of those above him.

To lay this little stone
Is
my

ambition;

While others rear
The polish'd marbles of the great!

Vain pomp ;

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A turf o'er virtue charms us more.

E, Y. 1749.

A LETTER TO MR. TICKELL, OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON.

JOSEPH ADDISON, ESQ. 1719.

-Tu nunc eris alter ab illo.

VIRG.

O LONG with me in Oxford groves confin'd,
In social arts and sacred friendship join'd;
Fair Isis' sorrow, and fair Isis' boast,
Lost from her side, but fortunately lost;
Thy wonted aid, my dear companion ! bring,
And teach me thy departed friend to sing :
A darling theme ! once powerful to inspire,
And now to melt, the muses' mournful choir:
Now, and now first, we freely dare commend
His modest worth, nor shall our praise offend.

Early he bloom'd amid the learned train,
And ravish'd Isis listen'd to his strain.

See, see,” she cried, “ old Maro's muse appears, Wak'd from her slumber of two thousand

years: Her finish'd charms to Addison she brings, Thinks in his thought, and in his numbers sings.

All read transported his pure classic page;
Read, and forget their climate and their age.”

The state, when now his rising fame was known,
Th' unrival'd genius challeng’d for her own,
Nor would that one, for scenes for action strong,
Should let a life evaporate in song. (pense,
As health and strength the brightest charms dis-
Wit is the blossom of the soundest sense :
Yet few, how few, with lofty thoughts inspir'd,
With quickness pointed, and with rapture fir'd,
In conscious pride their own importance find,
Blind to themselves, as the hard world is blind !
Wit they esteem a gay but worthless power,
The slight amusement of a leisure hour;
Unmindful that, conceal’d from vulgar eyes,
Majestic wisdom wears the bright disguise.

Poor Dido fondled thus, with idle joy, Dread Cupid, lurking in the Trojan boy; Lightly she toy'd and trifled with his charms, And knew not that a god was in her arms.

Who greatest excellence of thought could boast, In action, too, have been distinguish'd most : This Sommers' knew, and Addison sent forth From the malignant regions of the north, To be matur’d in more indulgent skies, Where all the vigour of the soul can rise ; Thro' warmer veins where sprightlier spirits run, And sense enliven'd sparkles in the sun. With secret pain the prudent patriot gave The hopes of Britain to the rolling wave,

· Lord Sommers procured a pension for Mr. Addison, which enabled him to prosecute his travels.-R.

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