Bright, at his call, the Age of Men effulg'd,
Of Men on whom late time a kindling eye
Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read.
Bring every sweetest flower, and let me ftrew
The grave
where RUSSEL lies; whose temper'd blood,
With calmeft cheerfulness for thee refign'd,
Stain'd the fad annals of a giddy reign;
Aiming at lawless power, tho' meanly funk
In loose inglorious luxury. With him
His friend, the BRITISH CASSIUS*, fearless bled;
Of high determin'd fpirit, roughly brave,
By ancient learning to th' enlightened love
Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown
In awful Sages and in noble Bards;
Soon as the light of dawning Science spread
Her orient ray, and wak'd the Muses' song.
Thine is a BACON; hapless in his choice,
Unfit to ftand the civil ftorm of state,
And thro' the smooth barbarity of courts,
With firm but pliant virtue, forward still
Το urge his courfe: him for the ftudious fhade
Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehenfive, clear,
Exact, and elegant; in one rich foul,
PLATO, the STAGYRITE, and TULLY join'd.
The great deliverer he! who from the gloom
Of cloister'd monks, and jargon-teaching schools,
Led forth the true Philofophy, there long
Held in the magic chain of words and forms,
And definitions void: he led her forth,
Daughter of HEAVEN! that flow-afcending ftill,
Inveftigating fure the chain of things,
With radiant finger points to HEAVEN again.
generous ASHLEY* thine, the friend of Man;
Who fcann'd his Nature with a brother's eye,
His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim,
To touch the finer movements of the mind,
And with the moral beauty charm the heart.
Why need I name thy BOYLE, whofe pious search
Amid the dark receffes of his works,
The great CREATOR fought? And why thy Lock,
Who made the whole internal world his own?
Let NEWTON, pure Intelligence, whom GOD
To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works
From laws fublimely simple, speak thy fame
In all philofophy. For lofty fenfe,
Creative fancy, and inspection keen
* ANTONY ASHLEY COOPER, Earl of Shaftesbury,
Thro' the deep windings of the human heart,
Is not wild SHAKESPEARE thine and Nature's boaft?
Is not each great, each amiable Mufe
Of claffic ages in thy MILTON met?
A genius univerfal as his theme;
Aftonishing as Chaos, as the bloom
Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven fublime.
Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget,
The gentle SPENSER, Fancy's pleafing son;
Who, like a copious river, pour'd his fong
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground:
Nor thee, his ancient mafter, laughing fage,
CHAUCER, whofe native manners-painting verfe,
Well-moraliz'd, fhines thro' the Gothic cloud
Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown.
May my song soften, as thy DAUGHTERS I,
BRITANNIA, hail; for beauty is their own,
The feeling heart, fimplicity of life,
And elegance, and tafte: the faultlefs form,
Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek,
Where the live crimson, thro' the native white
Soft-fhooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom,
And every nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew,
Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet,
Or funny ringlets, or of circling brown,
The neck flight-shaded, and the fwelling breaft;
The look refiftlefs, piercing to the foul,
And by the foul inform'd, when dreft in love
She fits high-fmiling in the confcious eye.
Ifland of blifs! amid the subject seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up,
At once the wonder, terror, and delight,
Of diftant nations; whofe remotest shores
Can foon be fhaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be shook thyself, but all affaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud fea-wave.
O THOU! by whofe almighty Nod the scale Of empire rifes, or alternate falls,
Send forth the faving VIRTUES round the land,
In bright patrol: white Peace, and focial Love;
The tender-looking Charity, intent
On gentle deeds, and fhedding tears thro' fmiles;
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind;
Courage compos'd, and keen; found Temperance,
Healthful in heart and look; clear Chaflity,
With blushes reddening as fhe moves along,
Disordered at the deep regard fhe draws;
Rough Industry; Adivity untir'd,
With copious life inform'd, and all awake:
While in the radiant front, superior shines
That first paternal virtue, Public Zeal;
Who throws o'er all an equal wide furvey,
And, ever mufing on the common weal,
Still labours glorious with fome great defign. +
Low walks the fun, and broadens by degrees,
Juft o'er the verge of day.
The shifting clouds Affembled gay, a richly-gorgeous train,
In all their pomp attend his fetting throne.
Air, earth, and ocean fmile immense. And now,
As if his weary chariot fought the bowers
Of Amphitritè, and her tending nymphs,
(So Grecian fable fung,) he dips his orb;
Now half-immers'd; and now a golden curve
Gives one bright glance, then total disappears.
For ever running an enchanted round,
Paffes the day, deceitful, vain, and void;
As fleets the vifion o'er the formful brain,
This moment hurrying wild th' impaffion'd foul,
The next in nothing loft. 'Tis fo to him,
The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank :
A fight of horror to the cruel wretch,
Who all day long in fordid pleasure roll'd,
Himself an useless load, has fquander'd vile,
Upon his fcoundrel train, what might have cheer'd
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