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Had Homer fat amongst his wond'ring guests,
He might have learn'd, at those stupendous feasts,
With greater bounty, and more facred state,
The banquets of the gods to celebrate.
But, oh! what elocution might he use,

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What potent charms, that could fo foon infufe
His abfent mafter's love into the heart

Of Henrietta! forcing her to part

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From her lov'd brother, country, and the fun,
And, like Camilla, o'er the waves to run
Into his arms? while the Parifian dames
Mourn for the ravish'd glory; at her flames
No lefs amaz'd than the amazed stars,
When the bold charmer of Theffalia wars
With Heav'n itself, and numbers does repeat,
Which call defcending Cynthia from her feat.

IX.

In answer to one who writ a libel against the

COUNTESS OF CARLISLE.

WHAT fury has provok'd thy wit to dare,
With Diomede, to wound the Queen of Love?
Thy mistress' envy, or thine own despair?
Not the juft Pallas in thy breast did move

So blind a rage, with such a diff'rent fate;
He honour won where thou haft purchas'd hate.

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She gave affiftance to his Trojan foe?

Thou, that without a rival thou may'st love,
Doft to the beauty of this Lady owe,

While after her the gazing world does move.
Canft thou not be content to love alone?
Or is thy miftrefs not content with one?

Haft thou not read of Fairy Arthur's fhield,
Which but difclos'd amaz'd the weaker eyes
Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field?
So fhall thy rebel wit become her prize
Should thy Iambicks fwell into a book,
All were confuted with one radiant look.

Heav'n he oblig'd that plac'd her in the skies;
Rewarding Phoebus for infpiring fo
His noble brain, by likening to thofe eyes
His joyful beams; but Phœbus is thy foe,
And neither aids thy fancy nor thy fight,
So ill thou rhym'st against so fair a light.

X.

OF HER CHAMBER.

THEY tafte of death that do at heav'n arrive,
But we this paradise approach alive.

Instead of Death, the dart of Love does ftrike,
And renders all within thefe walls alike.

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The high in titles, and the fhepherd, here
Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear.
All stand amaz'd, and gazing on the fair,
Lofe thought of what themselves of others are:
Ambition lofe, and have no other scope,
Save Carlifle's favour, to employ their hope.

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The Thracian* could (tho' all those tales were true
The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do
Before his feet fo fheep and lions lay,

Fearless and wrathlefs while they heard him play.
The gay, the wife, the gallant, and the grave,
Subdu'd alike, all but one paffion have:
No worthy mind but finds in her's there is
Something proportion'd to the rule of his:
While the with cheerful, but impartial grace,
(Born for no one, but to delight the race
Of men) like Phoebus fo divides her light,

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And warms us, that she stoops not from her height. 22

XI.

ON MY

LADY DOROTHY SIDNEY'S PICTURE.

SUCH was Philoclea, and fuch Dorus' + flame!
The matchlefs Sidney ‡, that immortal frame
Of perfect beauty, on two pillars plac'd,
Not his high fancy could one pattern, grac'd
† Pamela. Sir Philip Sidney

* Orpheus.

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With fuch extremes of excellence, compofe
Wonders fo diftant in one face difclofe!
Such cheerful modesty, such humble state,
Moves certain love, but with as doubtful fate
As when, beyond our greedy reach, we fee
Inviting fruit on too fublime a tree.
All the rich flow'rs thro' his Arcadia found,
Amaz'd we see in this one garland bound.
Had but this copy (which the artist took
From the fair picture of that noble book)
Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends * had jarr'd, 15
And, rivals made, th' ensuing story marr'd.
Juft Nature, first instructed by his thought,
In his own house thus practis'd what he taught?
This glorious piece tranfcends what he could think,
So much his blood is nobler than his ink!

XII.

AT PENSHURST.

HAD Dorothea liv'd when mortals made

Choice of their deities, this facred fhade
Had held an altar to her pow'r that gave
The peace and glory which these allies have;
Embroider'd fo with flowers where she stood,
That it became a garden of a wood.

* Pyrocles and Mufidorus.

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Her prefence has fuch more than human grace,
That it can civilize the rudest place;

And beauty too, and order, can impart,
Where Nature ne'er intended it, nor art.
The plants acknowledge this, and her admire,
No lefs than thofe of old did Orpheus' lyre.
If the fit down, with tops all tow'rds her bow'd,
They round about her into arbours crowd;
Or if the walk, in even ranks they stand,
Like fome well-marshall'd and obfequious band.
Amphion fo made flones and timber leap
Into fair figures from a confus'd heap:
And in the fymmetry' of her parts is found
A pow'r like that of harmony in found.

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Ye lofty Beeches! tell this matchlefs dame, That if together ye fed all one flame, It could not equalize the hundredth part Of what her eyes have kindled in my heart!Go, Boy, and carve this paffion on the bark Of yonder tree, which stands the facred mark Of noble Sidney's birth; when fuch benign, Such more than mortal-making stars did fhine, That there they cannot but for ever prove The monument and pledge of humble love; His humble love whofe hope fhall ne'er rife higher Than for a pardon that he dares admire.

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