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§ 64. In what Manner Princes ought to be taught. MALLET.

LET truth and virtue be their earliest teachers; Keep from their ear the syren-voice of flattery, Keep from their eye the harlot form of vice, Who spread in every court their silken snares, And charm but to betray. Betimes instruct them,

Superior rank demands superior worth;
Pre-eminence of valor, justice, mercy:
But chief, that, though exalted o'er mankind,
They are themselves but men-frail suffering
dust;

From no one injury of human lot

Exempt; but fever'd by the same heat, chill'd By the same cold, torn by the same disease, That scorches, freezes, racks, and kills the beggar.

§ 65. True End of Royalty. MALLET. O WITNESS, Heaven!

Whose

the heart's profoundest depth ex

eye plores,

That if not to perform my regal task;
To be the common father of my people,
Patron of honor, virtue, and religion;
If not to shelter useful worth, to guard
His well-earn'd portion from the sons of rapine,
And deal out justice with impartial hand;
If not to spread on all good men my bounty,
The treasures trusted to me, not my own;

If not to raise anew our English name
By peaceful arts, that grace the land they bless,
And generous war to humble proud oppressors:
Yet more, if not to build the public weal
on that firm base, which can alone resist
Both time and chance, fair liberty and law;
If I for these great ends am not ordain'd—
May I ne'er poorly fill the throne of England.

§ 66. The real Duty of a King. Rowe.

-"Tis true I am a king:

Honor and glory too have been my aim,
But though I dare face death and all the dangers
Which furious war wears in its bloody front;
Yet could I choose to fix my name by peace,
By justice, and by mercy; and to raise
Nor would I buy the empire of the world,
My trophies on the blessings of mankind:
With ruin of the people whom I sway,
Or forfeit of my honor.

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The good exalted, and depress'd the bad : He spurn'd the flattering crew, with scorn rejected

[selves, Their smooth advice, that only means themTheir schemes to aggrandize him into baseness, Well knowing that a people in their rights And industry protected; living safe Beneath the sacred shelter of the laws; Encourag'd in their genius, arts, and labors; And happy each as he himself deserves, Are ne'er ungrateful. With unsparing hand They will for him provide: their filial love And confidence are his unfailing treasury, And every honest man his faithful guard.

$68. The Guilt of bad Kings. MALLET. WHEN those whom Heaven distinguishes o'er millions,

And show'rs profusely pow'r and splendor on
them,
[they,
Whate'er th' expanded heart can wish: when
Accepting the reward, neglect the duty,
Or, worse, pervert those gifts to deeds of ruin,
Is there a wretch they rule so base as they?
Guilty, at once, of sacrilege to Heaven,
And of perfidious robbery to man!

§ 69. The true End of Life. THOMSON.

WHO, who would live, my Narva, just to

breathe

This idle air, and indolently run,
Day after day, the still returning round
Of life's mean offices and sickly joys?
But in the service of mankind to be
A guardian god below; still to employ
The mind's brave ardor in heroic arms,
Such as may raise us o'er the grovelling herd,
And make us shine for ever-that is life.

$70. The same. S. JOHNSON.

REFLECT that life and death, affecting sounds,

Are only varied modes of endless being.
Reflect that life, like every other blessing,
Derives its value from its use alone;
Nor for itself, but for a nobler end,
Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue.
When inconsistent with a greater good,
Reason commands to cast the less away;
Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserv'd,
And virtue cheaply sav'd with loss of life.

§ 71. A Lion overcome by a Man. LEE.

THE prince in a lone court was plac'd, Unarin'd, all but his hands, on which he wore A pair of gantlets.

At last, the door of an old lion's den
Being drawn up, the horrid beast appear'd:
The flames which from his eye shot glaring
red,

Made the sun start, as the spectators thought,
And round them cast a day of blood and death.
The prince walk'd forward: the large beast des-
cried

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§ 73. Virtue the only true Source of Nobility. THOMSON.

I TELL thee, then, whoe'er amidst the sons
Displays distinguish'd merit, is a noble
Of reason, valor, liberty, and virtue,
Of nature's own creating. Such have risen,
Sprung from the dust, or where had been our
honors?

And such, in radiant bands, will rise again
In yon immortal city; that, when most
Deprest by fate, and near apparent ruin,
Returns, as with an energy divine,

On her astonish'd foes, and shakes them from her.

§ 74. The happy Effects of Misfortune, THOMSON.

-IF misfortune comes, she brings along The bravest virtues. And so many great Illustrious spirits have convers'd with woe, Have in her school been taught, as are enough To consecrate distress, and make ambition E'en wish the frown beyond the smile of for

tune.

$75. A Description of the Morning.

OTWAY.

WISH'D morning's come; and now upon the plains,

And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks,

The happy shepherds leave their homely huts, And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day:

The lusty swain comes with his well-fill'd scrip
Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls,
With much content and appetite he eats,
To follow in the field his daily toil,
And dress the grateful glebe that yields him
fruits :

The beasts, that under the warm hedges slept, § 80. The Love of our Country the greatest And weather'd out the cold bleak night, are

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more;

Warbling she charms it each returning night,
And loves it with a mother's dear delight.

$79. A worthless Person can claim no Merit
from the Virtues of his Ancestors. Rowe.
WERE honor to be scann'd by long descent
From ancestors illustrious, I could vaunt
A lineage of the greatest; and recount,
Among my fathers, names of ancient story,
Heroes and godlike patriots, who subdu’d'
The world by arms and virtue.
But that be their own praise;

Nor will I borrow merit from the dead,
Myself an undeserver.

Virtue.

THOMSON. His only plot was this: that, much provok'd,

He rais'd his vengeful arm against his coun

try:

And lo! the righteous gods have now chastis'd him

Even by the hands of those for whom he fought.

Whatever private views and passions plead,
No cause can justify so black a deed:
These, when the angry tempest clouds the soul,
May darken reason and her course control;
But when the prospect clears, her startled eye
Must from the treach'rous gulf with horror fly,
On whose wide wave by stormy passions tost,
Then be this truth the star by which we steer:
So many helpless wretches have been lost.
Above ourselves our country shall be dear.

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By nature lavish'd on her, that mankind
Might see the virtue of a hero tried

Almost beyond the stretch of human force.
Soft as she pass'd along, with downcast eyes,
Where gentle sorrows swell'd, and now and then
Dropp'd o'er her modest cheek a trickling tear,
The Roman legions languish'd, and hard war
Felt more than pity. Een their chief himself,
As on his high tribunal rais'd he sat,
Turn'd from the dang'rous sight, and chiding
ask'd

His officers, if by this gift they meant
To cloud his virtue in its very dawn.

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Our seas with commerce throng'd, our busy ports

With cheerful toil. Our Enna blooms afresh ;
Afresh the sweets of thymy Hybla blow.
Our nymphs and shepherds, sporting in each
vale,

Inspire new song, and wake the pastoral reed.

§ 85. Providence. THOMSON. --THERE is a Pow'r

Unseen, that rules th' illimitable world,
That guides its motions from the brightest star
To the least dust of this sin-tainted mould;
While man, who madly deems himself the
lord

Of all, is nought but weakness and depend

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And at their roots grew floating palaces,
Whose out-blow'd bellies cut the yielding seas.
Montezuma. What divine monsters, O ye
gods! are these,

That float in air, and fly upon the seas? THOMSON. Came they alive, or dead, upon the shore? Guiom. Alas! they liv'd too sure: I heard

--O BEAUTEOUS Peace! Sweet union of a state! what else but thou Gives safety, strength, and glory, to a people? I bow, Lord Constable, beneath the snow Of many years; yet in my breast revives A youthful flame. Methinks I see again Those gentle days renew'd, that bless'd our isle Ere by this wasteful fury of division, Worse than our Ætna's most destructive fires, It desolated sunk. I see our plains Unbounded waving with the gifts of harvest:

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