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"For, fince 'tis born when Charles afcends the
"It fhares at once his fortune and its own."
Learned and Useful WORKS; but more particularly his Treatife of STONE-HENGE, by him reftor'd to the true Founder.
'HE longeft tyranny that ever fway'd, Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagyrite, And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one supply'd the ftate, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet fophifticate. Still it was bought, like emp'ric wares, or charms, Hard words feal'd up with Ariftotle's arms. Columbus was the firft that shook his throne; And found a temp'rate in a torrid zone :
The fev'rish air fann'd by a cooling breeze,
The fruitful vales fet round with fhady trees;
And guiltless men, who danc'd away their time,
Fresh as their groves, and happy as their clime.
Had we still paid that homage to a name,
Which only God and nature justly claim;
The western seas had been our utmoft bound,
Where poets ftill might dream the fun was drown'd:
And all the stars that shine in fouthern fkies,
Had been admir'd by none but favage eyes.
Among th' afferters of free reafon's claim,
Our nation's not the leaft in worth or fame.
The world to Bacon does not only owe
Its prefent knowlege, but its future too.
Gilber shall live, 'till loadftones ceafe to draw,
Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not lefs in nature feen,
Than his great brother read in states and men.
The circling streams, once thought but pools, of
(Whether life's fuel, or the body's food) From dark oblivion Harvey's name fhall fave; While Ent keeps all the honor that he gave, Nor are you, learned friend, the least renown'd; Whose fame, not circumfcrib'd with English ground,
Flies like the nimble journies of the light;
And is, like that, unfpent too in its flight.
Whatever truths have been, by art or chance,
Redeem'd from error, or from ignorance,
Thin in their authors, like rich veins of ore,
Your works unite, and ftill discover more.
Such is the healing virtue of your pen,
To perfect cures on books, as well as men.
Nor is this work the least: you well may give
To men new vigor, who make ftones to live.
the Danes, their short dominion lost,
A longer conqueft than the Saxons boast.
Stonehenge, once thought a temple, you have found
A throne, where kings, our earthly gods, were
Where by their wond'ring fubjects they were seen'
Joy'd with their ftature, and their princely mien.
Our fovereign here above the rest might stand,
And here be chofe again to rule the land..
These ruins shelter'd once his facred head,
When he from Wor'fter's fatal battle fled;
Watch'd by the genius of this royal place,
And mighty vifions of the Danish race.
His refuge then was for a temple shown :
But, he reftor'd, 'tis now become a throne.
S feamen, shipwreck'd on fome happy shore,
Discover wealth in lands unknown before;
And, what their art had labor'd long in vain,
By their misfortunes happily obtain :
So my much-envy'd mufe, by storms long toft,
Is thrown upon your hofpitable coast,
And finds more favor by her ill fuccefs,
Than fhe could hope for by her happiness.
Once Cato's virtue did the gods oppose;
While they the victor, he the vanquish'd chofe :
you have done what Cato could not do,
To choose the vanquish'd, and restore him too.
Let others still triumph, and gain their cause
By their deserts, or by the world's applause;
Let merit crowns, and juftice laurels give,
But let me happy by your pity live.
True poets empty fame and praise despise,
Fame is the trumpet, but your fmile the prize,
You fit above, and fee vain men below
Contend for what you only can bestow:
But those great actions others do by chance,
Are, like your beauty, your inheritance:
So great a foul, fuch sweetness join'd in one,
Could only spring from noble Grandifon.
You, like the stars, not by reflection bright,
Are born to your own heaven, and your own light;
Like them are good, but from a nobler cause,
From your own knowlege, not from nature's laws.
Your power you never use, but for defence,
To guard your own, or other's innocence:
Your foes are fuch, as they, not you, have made,
And virtue may repel, tho not invade.
Such courage did the antient heroes show,
Who, when they might prevent, would wait the
With fuch affurance as they meant to say,
We will o'ercome, but fcorn the safeft way.
What further fear of danger can there be?
Beauty, which captives all things, fets me free.
Pofterity will judge by my fuccefs,
I had the Grecian poet's happiness,
Who, waving plots, found out a better way;
Some God defcended, and preferv'd the play.