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THE

DGMENT of HERCULES.

Hile blooming fpring defcends from genial skies, By whofe mild influence inftant wonders rise; whose soft breath Elyfian beauties flow; weets of HAGLEY, or the pride of STOWE; LYTTELTON the rural landfkip range, noify fame, and not regret the change? d will he tread the garden's early scenes, earn a moral from the rifing greens? e, warm'd alike by Sol's enliv'ning pow'r, weed, aspiring, emulates the flow'r : drooping flow'r, its fairer charms display'd, es, from grateful hands, their gen'rous aid:

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Soon, if none check th' invasive foe's designs,
The lively luftre of these scenes declines!

'Tis thus, the fpring of youth, the morn of life,
Rears in our minds the rival feeds of ftrife.
Then paffion riots, reafon then contends;
And, on the conqueft, ev'ry blifs depends:
Life, from the nice decifion, takes its hue:
And bleft those judges who decide like you!
On worth like theirs fhall ev'ry bliss attend :
The world their fav'rite, and the world their friend,
There are, who blind to thought's fatiguing ray,
As fortune gives examples, urge their way:
Not virtue's foes, tho' they her paths decline,
And scarce her friends, tho' with her friends they join,
In her's, or vice's cafual road advance

Thoughtless, the finners or the faints of chance!
Yet fome more nobly scorn the vulgar voice;
With judgment fix, with zeal pursue their choice,
When ripen'd thought, when reafon born to reign,
Checks the wild tumults of the youthful vein;
While paffion's lawless tides, at their command,
Glide thro' more useful tracts, and blefs the land.
Happiest of these is he whofe matchless mind,
By learning ftrengthen'd, and by tafte refin'd,
In virtue's cause effay'd its earliest pow'rs;
Chofe virtue's paths, and ftrew'd her paths with flow'rs.
The firft alarm'd, if freedom waves her wings:
The fitteft to adorn each art fhe brings:

Lov'd

Lov'd by that prince whom ev'ry virtue fires:
Prais'd by that bard whom ev'ry mufe infpires:
Bleft in the tuneful art, the focial flame;

In all that wins, in all that merits fame!

'Twas youth's perplexing ftage his doubts infpir'd,
When great ALCIDES to a grove retir'd.
Thro' the lone windings of a devious glade,
Refign'd to thought, with ling'ring steps he stray'd;
Bleft with a mind to tafte fincerer joys:

Arm'd with a heart each false one to despise.
Dubious he ftray'd, with wav'ring thoughts poffeft,
Alternate paffions ftruggling fhar'd his breast;
The various arts which human cares divide,
In deep attention all his mind employ'd :
Anxious, if fame an equal bliss secur❜d;
Or filent ease with softer charms allur'd.

The filvan choir whose numbers sweetly flow'd,
The fount that murmur'd, and the flow'rs that blow'd;
The filver flood that in meanders led

His glitt'ring ftreams along th' enliven❜d mead;
The foothing breeze, and all those beauties join'd,
Which, whilft they please, effeminate the mind.
In vain! while distant, on a fummit rais'd,
Th' imperial tow'rs of fame attractive blaz❜d.
While thus he trac'd thro' fancy's puzzling maze
The fep'rate sweets of pleasure, and of praise;
Sudden the wind a fragrant gale convey'd,
And a new luftre gain'd upon the shade.

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At once, before his wond'ring eyes were seen Two female forms, of more than mortal mien. Various their charms; and,. in their drefs and face, Each feem'd to vie with fome peculiar grace. This, whose attire lefs clogg'd with art appear'd, The fimple sweets of innocence endear'd. Her sprightly bloom, her quick fagacious eye, Shew'd native merit mix'd with modefty. Her air diffus'd a mild yet aweful ray, Severely sweet, and innocently gay. Such the chafte image of the martial maid, In artless folds of virgin white array'd! She let no borrow'd rofe her cheeks adorn, Her blushing cheeks, that sham'd the purple morn. Her charms nor had, nor wanted artful foils, Or study'd gestures, or well-practis'd smiles. She scorn'd the toys which render beauty less; She prov'd th' engaging chastity of dress; And while fhe chofe in native charms to fhine, Ev'n thus fhe feem'd, nay more than feem'd, divine. One modeft em'rald clafp'd the robe she wore, And, in her hand, th' imperial sword she bore. Sublime her height, majestic was her pace, And match'd the aweful honours of her face. The fhrubs, the flow'rs, that deck'd the verdant ground, Seem'd, where fhe trod, with rifing luftre crown'd. Still her approach with ftronger influence warm'd ; She pleas'd, while diftant, but, when near, the charm❜d.

So

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