Live above all moft infinitely wretched.
Ifmena too!-Nay then, avenging Heaven
[Im na enters.
Has vented all its rage.- -O wretched maid!
Why deft thou come to fwell my raging grief?
Why add to forrows, and embitter wocs?
Why do thy mournful eves upbraid my guilt?
Why thus recal to my afflicted foul
The fad remembrance of my godlike fon,

Of that de youth my cruelty has murder'd?
O gods, your reddeft bolts of fire

Had dealt lefs torment to my fuff'ring frame
Than that deftructive word hath given my heart.
Life yields beneath the found.

Ifm. Ruin'd! O all ye pow'rs! O awful
Thefeus!

Say, where's my lord? fay, where has fate difpos'd him?

O fpeak! the fear diftracts me.
Thef. Gods! can I fpeak?

Can I declare his fate to his Ifmena!

O lovely maid! couldft thou admit of comfort,
Thou fhouldt for ever be my only care,
Work of my life, and labour of my fou!.
For thee alone my forrows, lull'd, fhall ceafe,
Ceafe for a while to mourn my murder'd fon;
For thee alone my fword once more thall rage,
Reftore the crown of which it robbb'd vour race.
Then let your grief give way to thoughts of
empire;

At thy own Athens reign. The happy crowd
Beneath the eafy yoke with pleasure bow,
And think in thee their own Minerva reigns.
Ifm. Muft I then reign, nay, muft I live
without him?

Not fo, O godlike youth! you lov'd Ismena:
You, for her fake, refus'd the Cretan empire,
And yet a nobler gift, the royal Phædra.
Shall I then take a crown, a guilty crown,
From the relentlefs hand that doom'd

death?

My fword, into thy breaft?

Hip. I aim'd it there,

But turn'd it from myfelf, and flew Cratander; The guards, not trufted with his fatal orders, Granted my with, and brought me to the king. I fear'd not death, but could not bear the thought Of Thefeus' forrow, and Ifmena's lofs; Therefore I haften'd to your royal presence, Here to receive my doom.

Thef. Be this thy doom,

To live for ever in Ifinena's arms.

Go, heavenly pair, and with your dazzling virtues,
Your courage, truth, your innocence and love,
Amaze and charm mankind; and rule that
empire,

For which in vain your rival fathers fought
Im. O killing joy!

Hip. O ecftaty of blifs!

Am I poffefs'd at laft of my Ifmena ?
Of that celeftial maid, O pitying gods!
How fhall I thank your bounties for my
fuff rings,

For all my pains, and all the pangs I've borne?
Since 'twas to them I owe divine Ifmena,
To them I owe the dear confent of Thefeus.
Yet there's a pain lies heavy on my heart,
For the difaftrous fate of hap lefs Phædra!
Thef. Deep was her anguish for the wrongs
the did you.

She chofe to die; and in her death deplor'd
Your fate, and not her own.

Hip. I've heard it all. Unhappy Phædra!
O had not paffion fullied her renown,
None e'er on earth had fhone with equal luftre!
So glorious liv'd, or fo lamented died.
Her faults were only faults of raging love,
Her virtues all her own.

Im. Unhappy Phædra!

O! 'tis in death alone I can have eafe, And thus I find it.

Enter Hippolitus.

But, till the proofs are clear, the ftroke delay. Hip. The righteous gods, that innocence re

quire, Protect the goodness which themselves infpire; Unguarded virtue human arts defies, Th'accus'd is happy, while th' accufer dies. [Exeunt omnes:

§ 50. The Killing of a Boar. OTWAY. FORTH from the thicket rush'd another boar,

So large, he feem'd the tyrant of the woods, With all his dreadful briftles rais'd up high; They feem'd a grove of fpears upon his back-: Foaming he came at me, where I was pofted, Whetting his huge long tufks, and gaping wide, As he already had me for his prey; Till, brandifhing my well-pois'd javelin high, With this bold executing arm I ftruck The ugly brindled monfter to the heart.

$51. Defcription of a populous City. YOUNG. T HIS ancient city,

How wanton fits fhc,amidftnature's fmiles! Nor from her highest turret has to view But golden landscapes and luxuriant fcenes, A wafte of wealth, the ftore-houfe of the world; Here fruitful vales far ftretching fly the fight, There fails unnumber'd whiten all the ftream, While from the banks full twenty thoufand cities Survey their pride, and fce their gilded towers Float on the waves, and break against the shore. -Various nations meet

As in a fea, yet not confin'd in fpace,

But ftreaming freely thro' the fpacious ftreets,
Which fend forth millions at each brazen gate;
Whene'er the trumpet calls, high over head
On the broad walls the chariots bound along.

§ 52. Rural Courtship. DRYDEN. ~HE preferr'd me

Above the maidens of my age and rank; Still fhunn'd their company, and fill fought mine. I was not won by gifts, yet ftill he gave; And all his gifts, tho' fmall, yet fpoke his love: He pick'd the carlieft ftrawberries in the woods, The clufter'd filberts, and the purple grapes : He taught a prating ftare to speak my name; And when he found a neft of nightingales, Or callow linnets, he would fhew 'em me, And let me take 'em out.

§ 54. The firft Feats of a young Eagle. RowE.. CO the eagle,

That bears the thunder of our grandfire Jove, With joy beholds his hardy youthful offspring Fortake the neft, to try his tender pinions In the wide untrack'd air; till, bolder grown, Now like a whirlwind on a fhepherd's fold He darts precipitate, and gripes the prey; Or fixing on fome dragon's fcaly hide, Eager of combat, and his future feaft, Bears him aloft, reluctant, and in vain Wreathing his fpiry tail.

$55. The true End of Education. Rowe. AND therefore wert thou bred to virtuous

knowledge,

And wifdom early planted in thy foul,
That thou might't know to rule thy fiery paffions;
To bind their rage, and stay their headlong courfe;
To bear with accidents, and every change
Of various life; to ftruggle with adverfity;
To wait the leifure of the righteous Gods,
Till they, in their own good appointed hour,
Shall bid thy better days come forth at once;
A long and fhining train; till thou, well pleas'd,
Shalt bow, and blefs thy fate, and fay the Gods
are just.

MALLET.

$56. Filial Piety. E'ER fince reflection beam'd her light upon me,

You, fir, have been my study. I have plac'd Before mine eyes, in every light of life, The father and the king. What weight of duty Lay on a fon from fuch a parent fprung;

What virtuous toil to fhine with his renown;
Has been my thought by day, my dream by night.

But firft and ever nearest to my heart
Was this prime duty, fo to fiaine my conduct
Tow'rd fuch a father, as, were I a father,

My foul would wish to meet with from a fon. And may reproach tranfmit my name abhorr'd To latest time-if ever thought was mine Unjust to filial reverence, filial love..

THOMSON.

$ 57. The fame. HAVE I then no tears for thee, my father?

Can I forget thy cares, from helplefs years Thy tenderness for me? An eye ftill beam'd With love? A brow that never knew a frown? Nor a hath word thy tongue Shall I for thefe Repay thy ftooping venerable age

With fhame, difquiet, anguifh, and dishonour?
It must not be !-thou firit of angels! come,
Sweet filial piety! and firm my breaft:
Yes, let one daughter to her fate fubmit,
Be nobly wretched—but her father happy.

catch

At every flender twig of nice diftinctions.
Thefe for the unfeeling vulgar may do well:
But thofe whofe fouls are by the nicer rule
Of virtuous delicacy only fway'd,
Stand at another bar than that of laws.

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

LET truth and virtue be their earliest teachers.

Keep from their car the firen-voice of flattery, Keep from their eye the harlot-form of vice, Who fpread, in every court, their filken fnares And charm but to betray. Betimes inftruct them,

Superior rank demands fuperior worth;
Pre-eminence of valour, juftice, mercy:
But chief, that, tho' exalted o'er mankind,
They are themfelves but men-frail fuffering duft,
From no one injury of human lot

Traitor.

THOMSON.

By the fame cold, torn by the fame difeafe, That fcorches, freezes, racks, and kills the beggar.

$65. True End of Royalty. MALLET. WITNESS, Heaven!

O

Whose eye the heart's profoundeft
depth explores,

That if not to perform my regal task;
To be the common father of my people,
Patron of honour, virtue, and religion;
If not to fhelter useful worth, to guard
His well-carn'd portion from the fons of rapine,
And deal out juftice with impartial hand;
If not to fpread on all good men thy bounty,
The treasures trufted to me, not my own;
If not to raife' anew our English name,
By peaceful arts, that grace the land they blefs,
And generous war to humble proud oppreffors:
Yet more, if not to build the public weal
On that firm bafe, which can alone refift
Both time and chance, fair liberty and law;
If I for thefe great ends am not ordain'd—
May I ne'er poorly fill the throne of England.
$66.

§ 74. The happy Effects of Misfortune. THOMSON.

IF misfortune comes, the brings along The braveft virtues. And fo many great Illuftrious fpirits have convers'd with woe, Have in her school been taught, as are enough To confecrate diftrefs, and make ambition Ev'n with the frown beyond the mile of fortune.

875. A Defcription of the Morning. OTWAY. WISH'D morning's come; and now upon the plains,

And diftant mountains where they feed their flocks,
The happy fhepherds leave their homely huts,
And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day:
The lufty fwain comes with his well-fill'd fcrip
Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls,
With much content and appetite he eats,
To follow in the field his daily toil,
And drefs the grateful glebe that yields him fruits:
The beafts, that under the warm hedges flept,

Where no rude fwains her fhady cell may know,
No ferpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow:
Fond of the chofen place, the views it o'er,
Sits there, and wanders thro' the grove no more;
Warbling the charms it each returning night,
And loves it with a mother's dear delight.

§ 79. A worthless Perfon can claim no Mat
from the Virtues of bis Ancefiors. Rowe.
WERE honour to be scann'd by long defcent
From ancestors illuftrious, I could vaunt
A lineage of the greateft; and recount,
Among my fathers, names of ancient ftory,
Heroes and godlike patriots, who fubdued.
The world by arms and virtue:
But that be their own praise :

Nor will I borrow merit from the dead,
Myfelf an undeferver.

raife

morrow:

THUS, in fome poplar fhade, the nightingale

Virtues.

THOM-ON.

only blot was this; that, much provok ́d, He rais'd his vengeful arm against his country. And lo! the righteous gods have now chaftis'd him, Ev'n by the hands of thofe for whom he fought, Whatever private views and paffions plead, No caufe can justify so black a deed: Thefe, when the angry tempeft clouds the foul, May darken reafon, and her courfe controul; But, when the profpect clears, her startled eye Muft from the treach'rous gulph with horror fly, On whofe wild wave, by ftormy paffions toft, So many helplets wretches have been loft. Then be this truth the ftar by which we fteer: Above ourselves our country fhall be dear.

The patriot builds his happiness; no ftroke, No keencft, deadlieft, fhaft of adverfe fate, Can make his generous bofom quite defpair, But that alone by which his country falls.

wail:

And nature fuffer when our children bleed: Yet fill fuperior muft that hero prove, Whofe firft, beft paffion, is his country's love.