The lofs, or gain, of that alone O! the dark days, the year around, Of an impatient mind! Through clouds, and ftorms, a fummer breaks, While man by that of every grace, In the rebellious breaft; By Refignation we defeat The worst that can annoy; And fuffer, with far more repose, My love where due, if not to those 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, So burft, full ripe, diftended fruits, Pallas, ('tis faid) when Jove grew dull, And sprightly leap'd into the throne Her helmet took; that is, fhot rays Of formidable wit; And launce,-or, genius most acute, 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. Qur authors male, as, then, did Jove, And call for what once quarter'd there, The fruit of knowledge, golden fruit! In Eve (we know) of fruit so fair And they, like her, have caus'd a fall, 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, RESIGNA RESIGNATION. B UT what in either fex, beyond All parts, our glory crowns! "In ruffling feasons to be calm, Heaven's choice is fafer than our own; Of ages paft enquire, What the most formidable fate? If, in your wrath, the worst of foes What numbers, rufhing down the fteep Have perish'd in their ardent with! Wish ardent, ever wrong! 'Tis Refignation's full reverse, By clofing with the skies, we make That done, how formidable ill's VOL. III. I No No longer impotent, and frail, Ourselves above we rise : We scarce believe ourselves below! 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 ? Is done as we defire. What glory this for man so mean, Beyond the boaft of pagan fong Of Rome's exalted lines. "All, that the fun furveys, fubdued, "But Cato's mighty mind." How grand! moft true; yet far beneath To more than kingdoms, more than worlds, Its matchless empire could have kept Great Cato's pride in awe ; That |