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See over-head a Flock of new-fprung Fowl
Hangs in the Air, and does the Sun controul;
Dark'ning the Sky they hover o'er, and throwd
The wanton Sailors with a feather'd Cloud.

FREEDOM. See Liberty.
Freedom, the firft Delight of Human-Kind!
Freedom with Virtue takes her Seat,
Her proper Place, her only Scene,
Is in the golden Mean.

She lives not with the Poor, nor with the Great.
The Wings of thofe Neceffity has clipt,

And they're in Fortune's Bridewel whipt,
To the laborious Task of Bread :
These are by various Tyrants captive led.
Now wild Ambition, with imperious Force,
Rides, reins, and fpurs them, like th'unruly Horfe :
And fervile Aurice yoaks them now,
Like toilfom Oxen to the Plough:
And fometimes Luft, like the mifguiding Light,
Draws them thro' all the Labyrinths of Night.
any few among the Great there be,

If

From thefe infulting Paffions free,

Yet we ev❜n thofe too fetter'd fee

By Cuftom, Bus'nefs, Crowds, and formal Decency.
And wherefoe'er they ftay, and wherefoe'er they go,
Impertinencies round them flow.
Thefe are the fmall uneafy things,
Which about Greatnefs ftill are found,
And rather it moleft than wound :

Wall.

Dryd. Pref.

Like Gnats, which too much Heat of Summer brings :
But Cares do fwarm there too, and those have Stings.
FRIEND.

I had a Friend that lov'd me:

I was his Soul: He liv'd not but in me :
We were fo clos'd within each others Breaft,
The Rivets were not found that join'd us firft.
That does not reach us yet: We were fo mix'd,
As meeting Streams; both to our felves were loft.
We were one Mafs, we could not give or take,
But from the fame: For He was I; I, He:
Return my better half, and give me all my self,
For thou art all!

If I have any Joy when thou art absent,
I grudge it to my felf: Methinks I rob
Thee of thy Part.

Cowl.

Dryd. All for Love.

Thou Brother of my Choice: A Band more facred Than Nature's brittle Tie. By holy Friendship,

Glory

Glory and Fame ftood ftill for thy Arrival ;
My Soul feem'd wanting of its better Half,
And languish'd for thy Abfence; like a Prophet,
That waits the Inspiration of his God.

Art thou not half my self?

One Faith has ever bound us, and one Reafon
Guided our Wills.

Row. Tam.

Row, Fair Pen.

Thus from our Infancy we Hand in Hand
Have trod the Path of Life in Love together:
One Bed has held us; and the fame Defires,
The fame Averfions, ftill imploy'd our Thoughts.
Whene'er had I a Friend that was not Polydor's,
Or Polydor a Foe that was not mine?

Who knows the Joys of Friend fhip?

The Truft, Security, and mutual Tenderness,
The double Joys, where each is glad for both?

Otw. Orph.

Friendship, our only Wealth, our laft Retreat and Strength,

Secure against ill Fortune and the World.
Neither has any thing he calls his own,

But of each others Joys as Griefs partaking:
So very honeftly, fo well they love,

As they were only for each other born.

Row. Fair Pen.

They both were Servants, they both Princes were.

If any Joy to one of them was fent,

It was moft his to whom it leaft was meant :
And Fortune's Malice betwixt both was crofs'd;
For ftriking one, it wounded th'other moft.

Then Thefeus join'd with bold Perithous came,
A fingle Concord in a double Name.
Their Love in early Infancy began,
And rofe ás Childhood ripen'd into Man:
Companions of the War; and lov'd fo well,
That when one dy'd, as ancient Stories tell,

Otw. Orpie.

Cowl.

Dryd. Ovid.

His Fellow, to redeem him, went to Hell. Dryd.Pal. & Arc. There have been fewer Friends on Earth than Kings. Cowl Friendship, of it felf a holy Tie,

Is made more facred by Adverfity.

Dryd. Hind. & Panth.

Shak. Haml.

The Friends thou haft, and their Adoption try'd,

Grapple them to thy Soul with Hoops of Steel.

Ever note, Lucilius,

When Love begins to ficken and decay,
It uses an inforced Ceremony.

There are no Tricks in plain and fimple Faith:
But hollow Men, like Horfes hot at Hand,
Make gallant Shew and Promife of their Mettle;
But when they should endure the bloody Spur,
They fall their Creft, and like deceitful Jades,
Sink in the Tryal.

Shak. Jul. Caf.

Pro:

Proteftations of Friendship.

'Tis not indeed my Talent to engage
In lofty Trifles, or to fwell my Page
With Wind and Noife; but freely to impart,
As to a Friend, the Secrets of my Heart:
And in familiar Speech to let thee know,
How much I love thee, and how much I owe.
Knock on my Heart, for thou haft Skill to find,
If it be folid, or be fill'd with Wind;

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And thro' the Veil of Words, thou view'ft the naked Mind.

For this a Hundred Voices I defire,

To tell thee what a Hundred Tongues would tire ;
Yet never can be worthily exprefs'd,

How deeply thou art feated in my Breaft!

Dryd. Perf.

Oh thou'rt fo near my Heart, that thou may'st see

Its Bottom; found its Strength and Firmness to thee.
No Fate my vow'd Affection fhall divide

Otw.

(Ven. Pref.

From thee, Heroick Youth! Be wholly mine!

Take full Poffeffion: All my Soul is thine!

One Faith, one Fame, one Fate fhall both attend;
My Life's Companion, and my Bofom Friend!
But if fome Chance, as many Chances are,
And doubtful Hazards in the Deeds of War;
If one should reach my Head, there let it fall,
And spare thy Life; I would not perish All.
FROST. See Winter.
Swift Rivers are with fuddain Ice constrain'd,
And ftudded Wheels are on its Back fuftain'd:
An Hoftry now for Waggons, which before,
Tall Ships of Burthen on its Bofom bore.
The brazen Cauldrons with the Froft are flaw'd;
The Garment, ftiff with Ice, at Hearths is thaw'd:
With Axes first they cleave the Wine, and thence,
By Weight the folid Portions they difpenfe.

Dryd. Virg.

Dryd. Virg.

From Locks uncomb'd, and from the frozen Beard
Long Ificles depend, and crackling Sounds are hear'd:
Mean time perpetual Sleet, and driving Snow
Obfcure the Skies, and hang on Herds below.

FROWN.

With hoftile Frown, and Vifage all inflam'd. Mark, my Sebastian, how that fullen Frown, Like fl hing Light'ning, opens angry Heav'n, And while it kills, delights.

All thefe Wrongs

Have never made me fow'r my patient Cheek,
Or bend one Wrinkle on my Face.

As when Two black Clouds,

With Heav'n's Artillery fraught, come ratling on

Dryd. Virg.

Dryd.

Dryd. Don Seb.

Shak. Rich. 2.

Over the Cafpian; then ftand Front to Front,
Hov'ring a Space, till Winds the Signal blow,
To join their dark Encounter in mid Air;
So frown'd the mighty Combatants.

He parted frowning from me, as if Ruin
Leap'd from his Eyes. So looks the chafed Lyon
Upon the daring Huntsman, who has gall'd him;
Then makes him nothing.

Roman FUNERAL.

Mean time the Rites and Fun'ral Pomps prepare,
Due to your dead Gompanions of the War:
The laft Refpe&t the Living can bestow,

Mile.

Shak, Hen. 8.

To fhield their Shadows from Contempt below.
That conquer'd Earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own Blood they bought.
They raise the Piles along the winding Strand:
Their Friends convey the Dead to Fun'ral Fires.
Then thrice around the kindled Piles they go,
Thrice Horfe and Foot about the Fires are led,
And thrice with loud Laments they hail the Dead.
Tears trickling down their Breafts bedew the Ground;
And Drums and Trumpets mix their mournful Sound.
Amid the Blaze their pious Brethren throw
The Spoils, in Battle taken from the Foe :

Helms, Bits embofs'd, and Swords of fhining Steel.
One cafts a Target, one a Chariot-Wheel:
Some to their Fellows their own Arms reftore;
The Fauchions, which in lucklefs Fight they bore:
Their Bucklers pierc'd, their Darts beftow'd in vain,
And fhiver'd Lances, gather'd from the Plain.
Whole Herds of offer'd Bulls about the Fire,
And bristled Boars, and woolly Sheep expire.
Around the Piles a careful Troop attends,

To watch the wafting Flames, and weep their burning Friends.
Part in the Places where they fell, are laid,

And Part are to the neighb'ring fields convey'd.
The Corps of Kings, and Captains of Renown,
Borne off in State, are bury'd in the Town:
The reft unhonour'd, and without a Name,
Are caft a common Heap to feed the Flame.

Now had the Morning thrice renew'd the Light,
And thrice difpell'd the Shadows of the Night;
When those who round the wafted Flames remain,
Perform the laft fad Office to the Slain.
They rake the yet warm Afhes from below;
These, and the Bones unburn'd, in Earth bestow:
Thefe Relicks with their Country's Rites they grace,
And raise a Mount of Turf around the Place.

Dryd. Virg.

Mean

Mean while the Trojan Troops, with weeping Eyes, To dead Mifenus pay his Obfequies.

Ín Altar-wife a ftately Pile they rear,

Of Pitch-Trees, Oaks, and Pines, and unctuous Fir,
The Bafis broad below, the Top advanc'd in Air.
The Fabrick's Front with Cyprefs Twigs they strew,
And stick the Sides with Boughs of baleful Yeugh;
The topmoft Part his glitt'ring Arms adorn;
Warm Waters then, in brazen Cauldrons born,
Are pour'd to wash the Body Joint by Joint,
And fragrant Oyls the stiffen'd Limbs anoint.
With Groans and Cries Mifenus they deplore:
Then on a Bier, with Purple cover'd o'er,
The breathlefs Body, thus bewail'd, they lay;
And fire the Pile, their Faces turn'd away;
Such rev'rend Rites their Fathers us'd to pay.
Pure Oyl and Incenfe on the Fire they throw,
And Fat of Victims which his Friends bestow.
Thefe Gifts the greedy Flames to Duft devour,
Then, on the living Coals, red Wine they pour.
And laft, the Relicks by themselves difpofe,
Which in a brazen Urn the Priefts inclofe.
Old Chorineus compafs'd Thrice the Crew,
And dip'd an Olive-Branch in holy Dew;

Which Thrice he sprinkl'd round, and Thrice aloud
Invok'd the Dead, and then difmifs'd the Croud.
FUNERAL PROCESSION.
Eneas took his Way,

Where, new in Death, lamented Pallas lay:
Acates watch'd the Corps.

Th'Attendants of the Slain his Sorrow fhare :
A Troop of Trojans mix'd with thofe appear,
And mourning Matrons, with difhevell'd Hair.
Soon as the Prince appears they raise a Cry,
All beat their Breafts, and Echoes rend the Sky.
They rear his drooping Forehead from the Ground;
But when Eneas view'd the griefly Wound,
Which Pallas in his manly Bofom bore,

And the fair Flefh diftain'd with purple Gore ;
First, melting into Tears, the pious Man
Deplor'd fo fad a Sight:

Then gave the Word around,
To raise the breathlefs Body from the Ground
And chofe a thousand Horfe, the Flow'r of all
His warlike Troops, to wait the Funeral:
To bear him back, and fhare Evander's Grief;
A well-becoming, but a weak Relief.

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ملة

Dryd. Virg.

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