The lyons too in tears their grief confeft,
And favage bears, Pan's enemies profeft.
The nymphs all wept, and all the noble train
Of Deities that frequent the court of Pan.

Echo that long by nought but voice was known,
In founds repeated others woes, but wept her own.
Th' Acardians mourn'd, and prefs'd beneath the
weighty care,

With cruelty they charg'd the Gods and every Star. Thyr. And well they might; Heaven could not fhew a Deity

More mild, more good t' his votaries than he.
He was all love, all peace, all clemency;
H' allur'd the love, and melted down the hate
Of all: He had no enemy but fate.

Pan kept the fields, from wolves fecur'd the ftall,
He guarded both the humble fhrubs, and cedars tall,
The fummers heat obey'd Pan's gentle hand,
And winter winds blew foft at his command,
He bleft the fwains with fheep, and fruitful made
their land.

Weep, fhepherds, and in pomp your grief exprefs, The ground with flowers,yourfelves with cypress dress. Let the Arcadians in a folemn train

March flowly on, let mournful accents fill the plain;

Do this at leaft in memory of Pan.

Daph. But why this vain expence of tears and

breath:

D'ye think Pan loft and fwallow'd up in death? He lives, and with a pleas'd and wondering eye Contemplates the new beauties of the Sky. Whence on thefe fields he cafts propitious rays, Now greater than our forrow, greater than our praife. I faw (for why mayn't I rehearfe the fight)

Juft as the Stars were kindled by the Queen of night, Another new-made milky way appear,

I faw, and wonder'd what event it might prepare. When lo great Pan amaz'd my trembling fight, As through th'athercal plains he took his flight, Deckt round with rays, and darting streams of light.

Trium

Triumphant was his march, a facred throng
Of Gods inclofed him, Pan was all their fong,
The Sky ftill brighten'd as they went along.
Men. Thy vifion be all truth

But who fhall now the royal fheep-crook hold,
Who patronize the fields, who now fecure the fold?
Daph. Difcharge that care,the royal stock does yield
Another Pan to patronize the field.

An heir of equal conduct does the fceptre fway,
One who long nurtured in the paftoral way,
In peace will govern the Arcadian plains,

Defend the tender flocks, and chear the drooping fwains.

Thyr. Comethen, let's tune the pipe t'a brisker
key,

Let's with a dance our forrows chafe away,
And to new Pan in sports devote the day.

H

SATIETY.

I.

Afte on, dull time,' thy winged minutes hafte, I care not now how foon thou bring'st my laft.

By what I've liv'd I plainly know,

The total fumm of all below.

The days to come, altho' they promife more, 1 know will be as falfe as those that went before.

II.

The beft of life tho' once enjoy'd, is vain,
And why ye powers the felf-fame o'er again?,
The comedy's fo dull, I fear

'Twill not a fecond acting bear.

No, I've enough; I cannot like the Sun

Each day the self-fame ftage, and ftill unwearied, run.

III.

What cruel laws are thefe that me confine,

Thus ftill to dig in a deceitful mine?

D. 4

Be

Be juft, ye powers, my foul fet free,
Give her her native liberty.

"Tis 'gainst the ftage's law to force my ftay,
I've feen an act or two, and do not like the play.

The REPLY.

I.

Ince you defire of me to know

Who's the wife man, I'll tell you who.
Not he whofe rich and fertile mind

Is by the culture of the arts refin'd;
Who as the Chaos of disorder'd thought
By reafon's light to form and method brought.
Who with a clear and piercing fight,

Can see through niceties as dark as night.
You err, if you think this is he,
Tho' feated on the top of the Porphyrian tree.

II.

Nor is it he to whom kind Heaven
A fecret Cabala has given

T'unriddle the myfterious text

Of Nature, with dark comments more perplext.
Or to decypher her clean writ and fair,
But most confounding puzzling character.

That can through all her windings trace

This flippery wanderer, and unveil her face.
Her inmoft mechanism view,

[through

Anatomize each part, and fee her through and

III.

Nor he that does the science know,
Our only certainty below,

That can from problems dark and nice,
Deduce truths worthy of a facrifice.
Nor he that can confefs the Stars, and fee
What's writ in the black leaves of Destiny.

That knows their laws, and how the Sun
His daily and his annual stage does run;

As

As if he did to them difpenfe

Their motions, and there fate fupreme intelligence.
IV.

Nor is it he (although he boat
Of wisdom, and feem wife to moft)
Yet 'tis not he, whofe bufy pate
Can dive into the deep intrigues of ftate.
That can the great Leviathan controul,

Manage and rule't, as if he were its soul.
The wifeft King thus gifted was,

And yet did not in thefe true wisdom place.
Who then is by the wife man meant?
He that can want all this, and yet can be content.

H

My ESTATE.

I.

OW do I pity that proud wealthy clown,
That does with fcorn on my low ftate look
down!

Thy vain contempt, dull earth-worm, cease,
I won't for refuge fly to this,

That none of Fortune's bleffings can
Add any value to the man.

This all the wife acknowledge to be true;
But know I am as rich, more rich than you.
II.

While you a fpot of earth poffefs with care,
Below the notice of the Geographer,
I by the freedom of my foul

Poffefs, nay more, enjoy the whole;
To th' Univerfe a claim I lay;

Your writings fhew perhaps you'll fay,
That's your dull way, my title runs more high,

'Tis by th' charter of Philofophy.

III.

From that a firmer title I derive,

Than all your courts of law could ever give.

DS

A title that more firm doth stand
Than does even your very land,
And yet fo generous and free

That none will e'er bethink it me,
Since my poffeffions tend to no mans loss;
I all enjoy, yet nothing I ingrofs.

IV.

Throughout the works divine I caft my eye,
Admire their beauty, and their harmony.
I view the glorious Hoft above,

And him that made them, praife and love.
The flow'ry meads and fields beneath,
Delight me with their odorous breath.
Thus is my joy by you not understood,
Like that of God, when he faid, All was good.

V.

Nay (what you'd think lefs likely to be true)
I can enjoy what's yours much more than you.
Your meadow's beauty I furvey,
Which you prife only for its hay.
There can I fit beneath a tree,
And write an Ode or Elegy.

What to you care, does to me pleafure bring,
You own the cage, I in it fit and fing.

The CONQUEST.

I.

N power or wisdom to contend with thee,

IN

Great God, who but a Lucifer would dare?
Our ftrength is but infirmity,

And when we this perceive our fight's moft clear:
But yet I will not be excell'd thought 1,

In love, in love I'll with my Maker vye.

II.

1 view'd the glories of thy feat above,
And thought of every grace and charm divine,
And farther to increase my love,

I measured all the heights and depths of thine.

Thus