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JOHN DRYDEN.

Born, 1631; Died, 1701.

REASON AND RELIGION.
DIM as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,
Is Reason to the soul: and as on high
Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear,

When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
So dies, and so dissolves, in supernatural light.

DESCRIPTION OF A BOLD BAD MAN.
Of these the false Achitophel was first;
A name to all succeeding ages curst:
For close designs and crooked counsels fit;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit.
Restless, unfix'd in principles and place;
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace :
A fiery soul, which, working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o'er-inform'd the tenement of clay.
A daring pilot in extremity;

Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,
He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.

Great wits are sure to madness near allied,

And thin partitions do their bounds divide;

Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a body which he could not please;
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?

THE WAR-HORSE.

THE fiery courser, when he hears from far
The sprightly trumpets and the shouts of war,
Pricks up his ears, and, trembling with delight,
Shifts place, and paws, and hopes the promised fight;
On his right shoulder his thick mane reclined,
Ruffles at speed, and dances in the wind.
Eager he stands: then, starting with a bound,
He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground;
Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow,
He bears his rider headlong on the foe.

MATTHEW PRIOR.

Born, 1664; Died, 1721.

CHARITY.

DID sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue
Than ever man pronounced, or angels sung:
Had I all knowledge, human and divine,
That thought can reach, or science can define;

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And had I power to give that knowledge birth
In all the speeches of the babbling earth:
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire:
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw
When Moses gave them miracles and law :
Yet, gracious Charity! indulgent guest,
Were not thy power exerted in my breast,
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer,
That scorn of life would be but wild despair;
A cymbal's sound were better than my voice,—
My faith were form, my eloquence were noise.
Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,

Softens the high, and rears the abject mind;
Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide
Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride.
Not soon provoked, she easily forgives,
And much she suffers as she much believes.-
Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives,
She builds our quiet as she forms our lives;
Lays the rough path of peevish nature even,
And opens in each heart a little heaven.

Each other gift which God on man bestows,
Its proper bounds and due restriction knows;
To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power,
And finishing its act, exists no more.
Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees,

Knowledge shall fail, and Prophecy shall cease;
But lasting Charity's more ample sway,

Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay,

In happy triumph shall for ever live,

And endless good diffuse and endless praise receive. As through the artist's intervening glass

Our eye observes the distant planets pass,

A little we discover, but allow

That more remains unseen than art can show :
So, whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble eye intent on things above,)
High as we may, we lift our reason up,
By faith directed, and confirm'd by hope;
Yet are we able only to survey

Dawning of beams and promises of day;
Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight,
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light.
But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd;
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.

Then constant Faith and holy Hope shall die,
One lost in certainty, and one in joy.
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity!
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three,
Thy office and thy nature still the same,
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsumed thy flame,
Shalt still survive-

Shalt stand before the host of heaven confest,
For ever blessing, and for ever blest.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

Born, 1672; Died, 1719.

CATO ON THE IMMORTALITY OF
THE SOUL.

It must be so: Plato, thou reasonest well;

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?

'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us,

'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.

Eternity!-thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new scenes and changes, must we pass !
The wide, the' unbounded prospect lies before me ;
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Here will I hold :-If there's a Power above us,
(And that there is all nature cries aloud

Through all her works,) he must delight in Virtue ;
And that which he delights in must be happy :
But-when ?-or where ?-This world was made for

Cæsar.

I'm weary of conjectures :-This must end them.
(Laying his hand on his sword.)

Thus am I doubly arm'd; my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment brings me to an end,
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secure in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amid the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

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