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The lofs, or gain, of that alone
Have we to hope, or fear;
That fate controls, and can invert
The feafons of the year:

O! the dark days, the year around,

Of an impatient mind!

Through clouds, and ftorms, a fummer breaks,
To fhine on the refign'd:

While man by that of every grace,
And virtue, is poffefs'd;
Foul vice her pandæmonium builds

In the rebellious breaft;

By Refignation we defeat

The worst that can annoy;

And fuffer, with far more repose,
Than worldlings can enjoy.
From small experience this I speak ;
O! grant to those I love
Experience fuller far, ye powers
Who form our fates above!

My love where due, if not to those
Who, leaving grandeur, came
To fhine on age in mean recefs,
And light me to my theme!

A theme themfelves! A theme, how rare

!

The charms, which they difplay,

To triumph over captive heads,

Are set in bright array:

With his own arms proud man 's o'ercome,

His boafted laurels die :

Learning and genius, wiser grown,

To female bofoms fly.

This revolution, fix'd by fate,

In fable was foretold;

The dark prediction puzzled wits,

Nor could the learn'd unfold:

But as thofe

ladies works I read,

They darted fuch a ray,

The latent fenfe burft out at once,
And fhone in open day :

So burft, full ripe, diftended fruits,
When strongly strikes the sun;
And from the purple grape unprefs'd
Spontaneous nectars run.

Pallas, ('tis faid) when Jove grew dull,
Forfook his drowsy brain;

And sprightly leap'd into the throne
Of wisdom's brighter reign;

Her helmet took; that is, fhot rays

Of formidable wit;

And launce,-or, genius most acute,
Which lines immortal writ;

And gorgon fhield,-or, power to fright

Man's folly, dreadful shone,

And many a blockhead (easy change !)

Turn'd, inftantly, to stone.

* Mrs. Montague.

Our

Mrs. Carter.

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Qur authors male, as, then, did Jove,
Now scratch a damag'd head,

And call for what once quarter'd there,
But find the goddess fled.

The fruit of knowledge, golden fruit!
That once forbidden tree,
Hedg'd-in by furly man, is now
'To Britain's daughters free:

In Eve (we know) of fruit so fair
The noble thirst began;

And they, like her, have caus'd a fall,
A fall of fame in man:

And fince of genius in our fex,

O Addifon! with thee

The fun is fet, how I rejoice

This fifter lamp to fee!

It fheds, like Cynthia, filver beams

On man's nocturnal state;

His leffen'd light, and languid powers,
I fhow, whilft I relate.

RESIGNA

RESIGNATION.

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UT what in either fex, beyond

All parts, our glory crowns!

"In ruffling feasons to be calm,
"And finile, when fortune frowns."

Heaven's choice is fafer than our own;

Of ages paft enquire,

What the most formidable fate?
"To have our own defire."

If, in your wrath, the worst of foes
You wish extremely ill;
Expofe him to the thunder's ftroke,
Or that of his own will.

What numbers, rufhing down the fteep
Of inclination ftrong,

Have perish'd in their ardent with!

Wish ardent, ever wrong!

'Tis Refignation's full reverse,
Moft wrong, as it implies
Error moft fatal in our choice,
Detachment from the fkies.

By clofing with the skies, we make
Omnipotence our own;

That done, how formidable ill's
Whole army is o'erthrown?

VOL. III.

I

No

No longer impotent, and frail,

Ourselves above we rise :

We scarce believe ourselves below!
We trefpafs on the skies!

The Lord, the foul, and fource of all,

Whilst man enjoys his ease,

Is executing human will,

In earth, and air, and seas;

Beyond us, what can Angels boast ?
Archangels what require ?
Whate'er below, above, is done,

Is done as we defire.

What glory this for man so mean,
Whofe life is but a span?
This is meridian majesty !
This, the fublime of man!

Beyond the boaft of pagan fong
My facred fubject shines ;
And for a foil the luftre takes

Of Rome's exalted lines.

"All, that the fun furveys, fubdued,

"But Cato's mighty mind."

How grand! moft true; yet far beneath
The foul of the Refign'd:

To more than kingdoms, more than worlds,
To paffion that gives law;

Its matchless empire could have kept

Great Cato's pride in awe ;

That

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