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Patriots.

Then flamed thy spirit high: but who can speak.
The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign ?
In RALEIGH mark their every glory mixed;
RALEIGH, the Scourge of Spain! whose breast with all

The sage, the patriot, and the hero burned.
Nor sunk his vigour, when a coward-reign
The warrior fettered, and at last resigned,
To glut the vengeance of a vanquished foe.
Then, active still, and unrestrained, his mind
Explored the vast extent of ages past,
And with his prison-hours enriched the world;
Yet found no times, in all the long research,
So glorious, or so base, as those he proved,
In which he conquered, and in which he bled.
Nor can the Muse the gallant SIDNEY pass,
The plume of war! with early laurels crowned,
The Lover's myrtle, and the Poet's bay.
A HAMPDEN too is thine, illustrious land,
Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul,
Who stemmed the torrent of a downward age
To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again,
In all thy native pomp of freedom bold.
Bright, at his call, thy Age of Men effulged,
Of Men on whom late time a kindling eye
Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read.

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Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew
The grave where RUSSEL lies; whose tempered blood,
With calmest cheerfulness for thee resigned,
Stained the sad annals of a giddy reign ;
Aiming at lawless power, tho' meanly sunk

In loose inglorious luxury. With him

His friend, the * BRITISH CASSIUS, fearless bled:

Algernon Sidney,

1525

Philosophers.

Of high determined spirit, roughly brave,

By ancient learning to th' enlightened love
Of ancient freedom warmed. Fair thy renown
In awful Sages and in noble Bards;

Soon as the light of dawning Science spread

Her orient ray, and waked the Muses' song.
Thine is a BACON ; hapless in his choice,
Unfit to stand the civil storm of state,
And thro' the smooth barbarity of courts,
With firm but pliant virtue, forward still

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To urge his course him for the studious shade

Kind Nature formed, deep, comprehensive, clear,

Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul,

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Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully joined.

The great deliverer he! who from the gloom

Of cloistered monks, and jargon-teaching schools,

Led forth the true Philosophy, there long

Held in the magic chain of words and forms,

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And definitions void: he led her forth,

Daughter of Heaven! that slow-ascending still,
Investigating sure the chain of things,

With radiant finger points to Heaven again.

The generous* ASHLEY thine, the friend of Man; 1550
Who scanned 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, whose pious search 1555
Amid the dark recesses of his works,

The great CREATOR Sought? And why thy Locke,
Who made the whole internal world his own?

Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury.

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Let NEWTON, pure intelligence, whom GoD
To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works

1560

From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame
In all philosophy. For lofty sense,

Creative fancy, and inspection keen

Thro' the deep windings of the human heart,

1564

Is not wild SHAKESPEARE thine and Nature's boast ?

Is not each great, each amiable Muse

Of classic ages in thy MILTON met?
A genius universal as his theme ;
Astonishing as Chaos, as the bloom
Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven sublime.
Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget,
The gentle SPENSER, Fancy's pleasing son;
Who, like a copious river, poured his song
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground:
Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage,
CHAUCER, whose native manners-painting verse,
Well moralized, shines 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, simplicity of life,
And elegance, and taste: the faultless form,
Shaped by the hand of harmony; the cheek,

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Where the live crimson, through the native white,
Soft-shooting o'er the face, diffuses bloom,
And every nameless grace; the parted lip,

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Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew,
Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet,
Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown,

The neck slight-shaded, and the swelling breast;
The look resistless, piercing to the soul,

1590

Prayer for Saving Virtues.

And by the soul informed, when drest in love
She sits high smiling in the conscious eye.

Island of bliss! amid the subject seas
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up
At once the wonder, terror, and delight,
Of distant nations; whose remotest shores
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea wave.

O THOU! by whose almighty Nod the scale
Of empire rises, or alternate falls,

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Send forth the saving VIRTUES round the land,
In bright patrol: white Peace, and social Love;
The tender-looking Charity, intent

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On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles ;
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind;

Courage composed, and keen; sound Temperance,
Healthful in heart and look; clear Chastity,

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With blushes reddening as she moves along,
Disordered at the deep regard she draws;
Rough Industry; Activity untired,
With copious life informed, and all awake;
While in the radiant front, superior shines
That first paternal virtue, Public Zeal;
Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey,
And, ever musing on the common weal,
Still labours glorious with some great design.
Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees,
Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds
Assembled gay, a richly-gorgeous train,

In all their pomp attend his setting throne.
Air, earth, and ocean smile immense. And now,
As if his weary chariot sought the bowers

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Moral Reflections.

Of Amphitritè, and her tending nymphs
(So Grecian fable sung) he dips his orb;
Now half-immersed; and now a golden curve
Gives one bright glance, then total disappears.

For ever running an enchanted round,
Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void;
As fleets the vision o'er the formful brain,

This moment hurrying wild the impassioned soul,
The next in nothing lost. 'Tis so to him,

The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank :

A sight of horror to the cruel wretch,
Who all day long in sordid pleasure rolled,
Himself an useless load, has squandered vile,

Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheered
A drooping family of modest worth.

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But to the generous still-improving mind,

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That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy,

Diffusing kind beneficence around,

Boastles, as now descends the silent dew;

To him the long review of ordered life

Is inward rapture, only to be felt.

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Confessed from yonder slow-extinguished clouds,

All ether softening, sober Evening takes

Her wonted station in the middle air;

A thousand shadows at her beck.

First this

She sends on earth; then that of deeper dye
Steals soft behind; and then a deeper still,
In circle following circle, gathers round,
To close the face of things. A fresher gale
Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream,
Sweeping, with shadowy gust, the fields of corn;
While the quail clamours for his running mate.

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