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Dr. Lowth.

This, Hercules, is happiness! Obey „My voice, and live; let thy celestial birth - „Lift

, and enlarge thy thoughts. Behold the way That leads to fame; and raises thee from earth.

„Immortal ! Lo, I guide thy steps. Arise, „Pursue the glorious path; and claim thy native


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Her words breathe fire celestial, and impart New vigour to his soul, that suddeti caught

The generous flame: with great intent his heart Swells ful, and labours with exalted thought:

The mist of error from his eyes dispelld,
Thro' all her fraudful arts in cleareft light

Sloth in her native form he now beheld:
Unveild, she stood confels'd before his fight:
False Siren! All her vaunted charms, that

Sa fresh erewhile, and fair: now wither'd, pale,


and gone.


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No more the rosy bloom in sweet disguise Masks her dissembled looks: each borrow'd grace Leaves her wan cheek; pale sickness clouds her

eyes Livid and funk, and passions dim her face

As when fair Iris has a while display'd
Her watry arch, with gaudy painture gay:

While yet we gaze the glorious colours fade,
And from our wonder gently steal away:
Where shone the beauteous phantom erft so bright,
Now lowers the low-hung cloud; all gloomy to the


But virtue more engaging all the while
Disclos'd new charms; more lovely, more ferene;


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Dr. Lowth.

Reaming sweet influence. A milder smile
Soften'd the terrors of her lofty mien.

„Lead, goddess, I am thine! (transported cry'd Alcides :) „O propitious pow'r thy way

» Teach me! possess my soul: bé thou my guide:
From thee, o never, never let me stray!“
While ardent thus the youth his vows address'd
With all the goddess filld, already glow'd his



The heav'nly maid with strength divine endu'd
His daring soul: there all her pow'rs combin'd,

Firm constancy, undaunted fortitude
Enduring patience, arm'd his mighty mind

Unniov'd in toils, in dangers undismay'd:
By many a hardy deed and bold emprize

From fiercest monsters, thro' her pow'rful aid
He free'd the earth: thro' her, he gain'd the skies.

'Twas Virtue plac'd him in the blest abode; Crown'd with eternal youth: among the Gods a


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Pa r ne 1 1.


(Thomas Parnell, geboren 1679, gestorben 1717, ift Verfasser einer nicht zahlreichen, aber geschmackvollen Sammlung vermischter Gedichte, für deren Werth schon der Umftand ein günstiges Vorurtheil erregt, daß Pope ihr Sammler und Herausgeber war. Folgende Ullegorie über den Menschen erklårt Dr. Johnson für die glücklichste reis ner Arbeiten, von denen er das Urtheil fåut, daß man nicht zu sagen wisse, ob sie Produkte der Natur find, die su vor: trefflich ift, daß fie der Hülfe der Stunft nicht bedarf; oder der Stunft, die so verfeinert ist, daß fie lauter Natur zu sein scheint.)



thoughtful Being, long and spare, Our race of mortals call him Care: (Were Homer living, well he knew, What name the Gods have call’d him too;) With fine mechanic genius wrought, And lov'd to work, tho' no one bought.

This Being by a model bred
In Jove's eternal lable head,
Contriv'd a shape impow'r'd to breathe,
And be the wordling here beneath.

The Man rose staring, like a stake,
Wondring to see himself awake!
Then look'd so wise, before he knew
The bul’ness he was made to do ;
That pleas'd to see with what a grace
He gravely shew'd his forward face,
Jove talk'd of breeding him on high,
An Under-something of the sky,



But ere he gave the mighty nod,
Which ever binds a Poet's God:
(For which his curls ambrosial shake,
And mother Earth's obliged to quake:)
He saw old mother Earth arise,
She stood confels'd before his eyes;
But not with what we read she wore,
A castle for á crown before,
Nor with long streets and longer roads,
Dangling behind her, like commodes :
As yet with wreaths alone she drest,
And trail'd a landskip-painted vest.
Then thrice she rais'd, as Ovid said,
And thrice she bow'd her weighty head.

Her honours made, great Jove, she cry'd,
This thing was fashion'd from my side;
His hands, his heart, his head are mine;
Then what haft thou, to call him thine?

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As thus they wrangled, Time came by;
(There's none that paint him such as I;
For what the fabling ancients fung,



Makes Saturn old, when Time was young.)
As yet his winters had not shed
Their silver honours on his head;
He just had got his pinions free
From his old fire Eternity.
A serpent girdled round he wore,
The tail within the mouth, before; ,
By which our Almanacks are clear,
That learned Aegypt meant the year.
A staff he carry'd, where on high
A glass was fix'd, to measure by,
As amber boxés made a show
For heads of canes an age ago.
His vest, for day, and night, was py'd;.
A bending fickle arm'd his fide;
And Spring's new months his train adorn;
The other Seasons were unborn.

Known by the Gods, as near he draws,
They make him umpire to the cause.
O’er a low trunk his arm he laid,
Where since his hours a dial made;
Then leaning heard the nice debate,
And thus pronounc'd the words of Fate.

Since body from the parent Earth,
And soul from Jove receiv’d a birth,
Return they where they firft began;
But since their union makes the Man,
'Till Jove and Earth shall part these two,
To Care, who join'd them, Man is due.

He said, and sprung with swift career
To trace a circle for the

Where ever since the Seasons wheel,
And tread on one another's heel.

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