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TO THE TRAGEDY OF BRUTUS.*
CHORUS OF ATHENIANS.
YE shades, where sacred truth is sought;
Groves, where immortal sages taught :
Unspotted long with human blood.
Oh heav'n-born sisters ! source of art !
a Altered from Shakespear by the Duke of Buckingham, at whose desire these two Chorus's were composed to supply as many wanting in his play. They were set many years afterward by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-housea
To what new clime, what distant sky,
Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly?
When Athens sinks by fates unjust,
And Athens rising near the pole !
Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball ?
In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state !
OH tyrant Love ! hast thou possést
The prudent, learn’d, and virtuous breast?
Love, soft intruder, enters here,
Which Nature has imprest,
The mild and gen'rous breast ?
Brutus for absent Portia sighs,
What is loose love? a transient gust,
But Hymen's kinder flames unite,
And burn for ever one ;
Productive as the sun.
Oh source of ev'ry social tye,
What various joys on one attend,
Whether his hoary sire he spies,
What home-felt raptures move?
With rev’rence, hope, and love.
Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmises,
Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine :
Sacred Hymen! these are thine.
ODE ON SOLITUDE.”
HAPPY the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter firé.
Blest who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days and years slide soft away, In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.
Sound sleep by night ; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation : And innocence, which most does please
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Tell where I lie.
a This was a very early production of our Author, written at about twelve years old.