Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell: TWO CHORUSSES TO THE TRAGEDY OF BRUTUS, Altered from Shakspeare by the Duke of Buckingham: at whose desire these two Chorusses were composed, to supply as many wanting in his Play. They were set many years afterwards by the famous Bononcini, and performed at Buckingham-house. CHORUS OF ATHENIANS. YE shades, where sacred truth is sought; War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks invades, Oh heaven-born sisters! source of art! Who lead fair virtue's train along, Moral truth and mystic song! To what new clime, what distant sky, Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore? Strophe 2. When Athens sinks by fates unjust, Perhaps e'en Britain's utmost shore Shall cease to blush with stranger's gore: Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand, Ye gods! what justice rules the ball? Still, when the lust of tyrant power succeeds, CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS OH tyrant Love! hast thou possess'd The prudent, learn'd, and virtuous breast? And arts but soften us to feel thy flame. Why, virtue, dost thou blame desire, Love's purer flames the gods approve; A vapour fed from wild desire; Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light, Semichorus. Oh source of every social tie, What various joys on one attend, His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns Chorus. Hence, guilty joys, distastes, surmises; Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine: Purest Love's unwasting treasure, ODE ON SOLITUDE. Written when the Author was about twelve Years ou HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own groun Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Bless'd, who can unconcernedly find Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night: study and ease, Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. ODE. The dying Christian to his Soul. VITAL spark of heavenly flame! Hark! they whisper: angels say, Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly. Oh death! where is thy sting? AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM. Written in the Year 1709. PART I. Introduction That it is as great a fault to judge ill, as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public, ver. 1. That a true taste is as rare to be found as a true genius, ver. 9 to 18. That most men are born with some taste, but spoiled by false education, ver. 19 to 25. The multitude of critics, and causes of them, ver 26 to 45. That we are to study our own taste, and know the limits of it, ver. 46 to 67. Nature the best guide of judgment, ver. 68 to 87. Improved by art and rules, which are but methodized nature, ver. 88. Rules derived from the practice of ancient poets, ver. 88 to 110. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a critic, particularly Homer and Virgil, ver. 120 to 138. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients, ver. 140 to 80. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them, ver. 181, &c. 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none Go just alike, yet each believes his own. In poets as true genius is but rare, True taste as seldom is the critic's share. 10 |