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The doubtful heirs their diff'ring titles plead;
All vouch the words their int’rest to maintain,
And each pretends by those his cause is plain:
Shall then the testament award the right?
No, that's the Hungary for which they fight,
The field of battle, subject of debate,
The thing contended for, the fair estate.
The sense is intricate; 't is only clear
What vowels and what consonants are there;
Therefore 't is plain its meaning must be tried
Before some judge appointed to decide.”

“Suppose,” the fair apostate said, “I grant
The faithful flock some living guide should want,
Your arguments an endless chase pursue:
Produce this vaunted leader to our view,
This mighty Moses of the chosen crew."

The dame, who saw her fainting foe retired,
With force renewed, to victory aspired;
And, looking upward to her kindred sky,
As once our Saviour owned His Deity,

Pronounced His words—“She whom ye seek am I." 1686.

1687.

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NO, NO, POOR SUFF'RING HEART
No, no, poor suff'ring heart, no change endeavour;
Choose to sustain the smart, rather than leave her:
My ravished eyes behold such charms about her,
I can die with her but not live without her ;
One tender sigh of hers to see me languish,
Will more than pay the price of my past anguish.
Beware, O cruel fair, how you smile on me;
'T was a kind look of yours that has undone me.

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Love has in store for me one happy minute,
And she will end my pain who did begin it:
Then no day void of bliss or pleasure leaving,
Ages shall slide away without perceiving;
Cupid shall guard the door, the more to please us,
And keep out Time and Death, when they would seize us;
Time and Death shall depart, and say in flying,

15 Love has found out a way to live by dying.

TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MR. CONGREVE
ON HIS COMEDY CALLED "THE DOUBLE DEALER"

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Well, then, the promised hour is come at last;
The present age of wit obscures the past.
Strong were our sires; and as they fought they writ,
Conqu’ring with force of arms and dint of wit:
Theirs was the giant race before the Flood;
And thus, when Charles returned, our empire stood.
Like Janus, he the stubborn soil manured,
With rules of husbandry the rankness cured;
Tamed us to manners, when the stage was rude,
And boisterous English wit with art endued.
Our age was cultivated thus, at length,
But what we gained in skill we lost in strength.
Our builders were with want of genius curst;
The second temple was not like the first :
Till you, the best Vitruvius, come at length,
Our beauties equal, but excel our strength.
Firm Doric pillars found your solid base,
The fair Corinthian crowns the higher space:
Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.
In easy dialogue is Fletcher's praise;
He moved the mind, but had not power to raise.
Great Jonson did by strength of judgment please;
Yet, doubling Fletcher's force, he wants his ease.
In differing talents both adorned their age,
One for the study, t' other for the stage.
But both to Congreve justly shall submit,
One matched in judgment, both o'ermatched in wit.
In him all beauties of this age we see:
Etherege his courtship, Southerne's purity,
The satire, wit, and strength of manly Wycherley.
All this in blooming youth you have achieved;
Nor are your foiled contemporaries grieved:
So much the sweetness of your manners move,
We cannot envy you, because we love.
Fabius might joy in Scipio, when he saw
A beardless Consul made against the law,
And join his suffrage to the votes of Rome,
Though he with Hannibal was overcome.

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Thus old Romano bowed to Raphael's fame,
And scholar to the youth he taught became.

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O that your brows my laurel had sustained !
Well had I been deposed, if you had reigned:
The father had descended for the son,
For only you are lineal to the throne.
Thus when the state one Edward did depose,

45 A greater Edward in his room arose. But now, not I, but poetry, is curst, For Tom the second reigns like Tom the first. But let 'em not mistake my patron's part, Nor call his charity their own desart.

50 Yet this I prophesy: thou shalt be seen, Though with some short parenthesis between, High on the throne of wit, and, seated there, Not mine—that's little—but thy laurel wear. Thy first attempt an early promise made;

55 That early promise this has more than paid. So bold, yet so judiciously you dare, That your least praise is to be regular: Time, place, and action may with pains be wrought; But genius must be born, and never can be taught. 60 This is your portion, this your native store: Heav'n, that but once was prodigal before, To Shakespeare gave as much; she could not give him

more.

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Maintain your post; that's all the fame you need,
For 't is impossible you should proceed.
Already I am worn with cares and age,
And just abandoning th' ungrateful stage;
Unprofitably kept at Heav'n's expense,
I live a rent-charge on His providence.
But you, whom ev'ry Muse and Grace adorn,
Whom I foresee to better fortune born,
Be kind to "my remains; and oh, defend,
Against your judgment, your departed friend !
Let not the insulting foe my fame pursue,
But shade those laurels which descend to you;
And take for tribute what these lines express-
You merit more, nor could my love do less.
1693.

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ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC

A SONG IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1697

I

'Twas

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the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son:

Aloft, in awful state,

The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne;
His valiant peers were placed around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound

(So should desert in arms be crowned);

The lovely Thais; by his side,
Sate like a blooming Eastern bride,

In flow'r of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair !

None but the brave,

None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.

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CHORUS

Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.

II

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Timotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touched the lyre;
The trembling notes ascend the sky,

And heav'nly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who left his blissful seats above

(Such is the pow'r of mighty love):
A dragon's fiery form belied the god;

Sublime on radiant spires he rode,
When he to fair Olympia pressed,
And while he sought her snowy breast;
Then round her slender waist he curled,

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And stamped an image of himself, a sov'reign of the

world. The list'ning crowd admire the lofty sound: "A present deity !” they shout around:

35 “A present deity !" the vaulted roofs rebound.

With ravished ears
The monarch hears;
Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.

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CHORUS

With ravished ears
The monarch hears;
Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.

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III

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The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young.

The jolly god in triumph comes :
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums!

Flushed with a purple grace,

He shows his honest face:
Now give the hautboys breath! he comes, he comes !

Bacchus, ever fair and young,

Drinking joys did first ordain:
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure;
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

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CHORUS

Bacchus' blessings are a treasure;
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure;

Rich the treasure,

Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.

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