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LVI.

Nor love of novelty alone infpires,

Their laws and nice dependencies to fean;
For, mindful of the aids that life requires,
And of the fervices man owes to man,
He meditates new arts on Nature's plan ;
The cold defponding breast of Sloth to warm,
The flame of Industry and Genius fan,

And Emulation's noble rage alarm,

And the long hours of Toil and Solitude to charm.

LVII.

But She who set on fire his infant heart,

And all his dreams, and all his wanderings fhared And blefs'd the Muse and her celestial art, Still claim d th' Enthufiaft's fond and first regard. From Nature's beauties variously compared And variously combined, he learus to frame Thofe forms of bright perfection, which the Bard, While boundless hopes and boundless views inflame, Enamour'd confecrates to never-dying faine.

LVIII.

Of late, with cumbersome, though pompous fhow,
Edwin would oft his flowry rhime deface,
Through ardour to adorn; but Nature now
To his experienced eye a modeft grace
Prefents, where Ornament the second place
Holds to intrinfic worth and jutt defign
Subfervient till. Simplicity apace

Tempers his rage: he owns her charm divine,
And clears th' ambiguous phrafe, and lops th' unwieldy

line.

LIX.

Fain would I fing (much yet unfung remains)
What fweet delirium o'er his bofom itule,

When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains
His deep majestic melody 'gan to roll:

* VIRGIL.

Fain would I fing, what tranfport florm'd his foul, How the red current throbb'd his veins along, When, like Pelides, bold beyond controul, Gracefully terrible, fublimely ftrong, Homerraifed high to heaven the loud, th' impetuous fong.

LX.

And how his lyre, though rude her firft effays,
Now fkill'd to footh, to triumph, to complain,
Warbling at will through each harmonious maze,
Was taught to modulate the artful strain,

I fain would fing :-but ah! I firive in vain.-
Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound.-
With trembling ftep, to join yon weeping train,
I hafte, where gleams funeral glare around
And, mix'd with fhrieks of woe, the knells of death re-

LXI.

Adieu, ye lays, that fancy's flowers adorn,
The foft amusement of the vacant mind!

(found.

He fleeps in duft, and all the Mufes mourn,
He, whom each Virtue fired, each grace refined,
Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind! *.
He fleeps in duft.Ah, how fhall I purfue
My theme To heart-confuming grief refign'd
Here on this recent grave I fix my view,

And

poor my

bitter tears.-Ye flowery lays, adieu !
LXII.

Art thou, my G*******, for ever fled!
And am I left to unavailing woe!

When fortune's ftorms affail this weary head,
Where cares long fince have shed untimely fnow,
Ah, now for comfort whither fhall I go!
No more thy foothing voice my anguifh chears :
Thy placid eyes with fmiles no longer glow,
My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.- (tears.
'Tis meet that I should mourn :-flow forth afresh my

*This excellent perfon died fuddenly, on the 10th of February, 1773. The conclufion of the poem was written a few days after.

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ADVERTISEMENT.

Tmantic

HERE is fomething Romantic in the Story of the following POEM; but the Author has his Reafons for believing that there is fomething likewife, Authentic. On the fimple Circumftances of the ancient Narrative, from which He firft borrowed his Idea, thofe Reasons are principally founded, and they are fupported by others, with which, in a Work of this Kind, to trouble his Readers would be fuperfluous.

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