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And all the Statues of the Palace live.
Then hosts embattled stretch their lines afar,
Their leaders' speeches animate the war,
The trumpets sound, the feather'd arrows fly,
The sword is drawn, the lance is toss'd on high,
The brave press on, the fainter forces yield,
And death in different shapes deforms the field.
Or, should the shepherds be dispos'd to play,
Amintor's jolly pipe beguiles the day,

And jocund Echos dally with the sound,
And Nymphs in measures trip along the ground,
And, ere the dews have wet the grass below,
Turn homewards singing all the way they go.

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"Here, as on circumstance Narrations dwell, And tell what moves, and hardly seem to tell, The toil of Heroes on the dusty plains, Or on the green the merriment of Swains, Reflection speaks: then all the Forms that rose In life's inchanted scene themselves compose; Whilst the grave voice, controling all the spells, With solemn utterance, thus the Moral tells: 'So Public Worth its enemies destroys, • Or Private Innocence itself enjoys.'

"Here all the Passions, for their greater sway, In all the power of words themselves array; And hence the soft Pathetic gently charms, And hence the bolder fills the breast with arms. Sweet Love in numbers finds a world of darts,

And with Desirings wounds the tender hearts.
Fair Hope displays its pinions to the wind,
And flutters in the lines, and lifts the mind.
Brisk Joy with transport fills the rising strain,
Breaks in the notes, and bounds in every vein.
Stern Courage, glittering in the sparks of Ire,
Inflames those lays that set the breast on fire.
Aversion learns to fly with swifter will,
In numbers taught to represent an ill.
By frightful accents Fear produces fears;
By sad expression Sorrow melts to tears:
And dire Amazement and Despair are brought
By words of Horror through the wilds of thought.
'Tis thus tumultuous Passions learn to roll;
Thus, arm'd with Poetry, they win the soul.

"Pass further through the Dome, another view
Would now the pleasures of thy mind renew,
Where oft Description for the colors goes,
Which raise and animate its native shows;
Where oft Narration seeks a florid grace
To keep from sinking ere 'tis time to cease;
Where easy turns Reflection looks to find,
When Morals aim at dress to please the mind;
Where lively Figures are for use array'd,
And these an Action, those a Passion, aid.

"There modest Metaphors in order sit, With unaffected, undisguising Wit,

That leave their own, and seek another's place,

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Not forc'd, but changing with an easy pace,

To deck a notion faintly seen before,

And Truth preserves her shape, and shines the more.

(6 By these the beauteous Similies reside,
In look more open, in design ally'd,
Who, fond of likeness, from another's face
Bring every feature's corresponding grace,
With near approaches in expression flow,
And take the turn their pattern loves to show;
As in a glass the shadows meet the fair,
And dress and practise with resembling air.
Thus Truth by pleasure doth her aim pursue,
Looks bright, and fixes on the doubled view.

"There Repetitions one another meet, Expressly strong, or languishingly sweet, And raise the sort of sentiment they please, And urge the sort of sentiment they raise.

"There close in order are the Questions plac'd, Which march with art conceal'd in shows of haste, And work the Reader till his mind be brought To make its answers in the Writer's thought. For thus the moving Passions seem to throng, And with their quickness force the soul along ; And thus the soul grows fond they should prevail, When every Question seems a fair appeal; And if by just degrees of strength they soar, In steps as equal each affects the more.

"There strange Commotion, naturally shown, Speaks on regardless that she speaks alone, Nor minds if they to whom she talks be near, Nor cares if that to which she talks can hear. The warmth of Anger dares an absent Foe; The words of Pity speak to tears of Woe; The Love that hopes, on errands sends the breeze; And Love despairing moans to naked trees.

"There stand the new Creations of the Muse,, Poetic Persons, whom the Writers use Whene'er a cause magnificently great Would fix attention with peculiar weight. 'Tis hence that humble Provinces are seen Transform'd to Matrons with neglected mien, Who call their Warriors in a mournful sound, And shew their Crowns of Turrets on the ground, While over Urns reclining Rivers moan

They should enrich a nation not their own.

'Tis hence the Virtues are no more confin'd
To be but rules of reason in the mind;
The heavenly Forms start forth, appear to breathe,
And in bright shapes converse with men beneath;
And, as a God in combat Valor leads,

In council Prudence as a Goddess aids.

"There Exclamations all the voice employ In sudden flushes of Concern or Joy:

Then seem the sluices, which the Passions bound, To burst asunder with a speechless sound;

And then with tumult and surprize they roll,
And shew the case important in the soul.

"There rising Sentences attempt to speak, Which Wonder, Sorrow, Shame, or Anger, break; But so the Part directs to find the rest,

That what remains behind is more than guess'd.
Thus fill'd with ease, yet left unfinish'd too,
The sense looks large within the Reader's view:
He freely gathers all the Passion means,
And artful silence more than words explains.
Methinks a thousand Graces more I see,
And I could dwell-but when would thought be free t
Engaging Method ranges all the band,

And smooth Transition joins them hand in hand:
Around the music of my lays they throng,
Ah, too deserving objects of my song!
Live, wondrous Palace, live secure of time,
To Senses Harmony, to Souls sublime,
And just Proportion all, and great Design,
And lively Colors, and an Air divine.

"'Tis here that, guided by the Muses' fire, And fill'd with sacred thought, her Friends retire, Unbent to care, and unconcern'd with noise, To taste repose and elevated joys,

Which in a deep untroubled leisure meet,.
Serenely ravishing, politely sweet.

From hence the Charms that most engage they choose,
And, as they please, the glittering objects use;

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