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Yet, WHITEHEAD, 'tis too soon to lose you:
Let critics flatter or abuse you,
O! teach us, ere you change the scene
To Stygian banks from Hippocrene,
How free-born bards should strike the strings,
And how a Briton write to kings.

VERSES on the Profpect of planting Arts and

LEARNING in AMERICA.

By Dr. BERKELEY, Bishop of CLOYNE

HE Muse, disgusted at an age and clime,

Barren of every glorious theme,
In distant lands now waits a better time,

Producing subjects worthy fame:
In happy climes, where from the genial fun

And virgin earth such scenes ensue,
The force of art by nature seems outdone,

And fancied beauties by the true :

a Written about the year 1728, when the author had in view the scheme of founding a college at Bermudas, which failed of success in the attempt.

In happy climes, the seat of innocence,

Where nature guides and virtue rules,
Where men shall not impose for truth and sense

The pedantry of courts and schools :

There shall be sung another golden age,

The rise of empire and of arts,
The good and great inspiring epic rage,

The wisest heads, and noblest hearts.
Not such as Europe breeds in her decay;
Such as she bred when fresh and

young, When heav'nly flame did animate her clay,

By future poets shall be sung.
Westward the course of empire takes its way ;

The four first acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day;

Time's noblest offspring is the last.

TO

**************$$$$$$$$$$

To

Mr.

M A S O N.

By WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Esq;

B

I.
ELIEVE me, Mason, 'tis in vain

Thy fortitude the torrent braves ;
Thou too must bear th' inglorious chain;

The world, the world will have its slaves.
The chosen friend, for converse sweet,
The small, yet elegant retreat,
Are peaceful unambitious views

Which early fancy loves to form,
When, aided by the ingenuous Muse,
She turns the philofophic page,
And sees the wise of every age
With Nature's dictates warm.

II.
But ah! to few has Fortune given

The choice, to take or to refuse;
To fewer still indulgent Heaven

Allots the very will to chuse.
And why are varying schemes preferr'd?
Man mixes with the common herd,

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In happy climes, the seat of innocence,

Where nature guides and virtue rules,
Where men shall not impose for truth and sense

The pedantry of courts and schools :
There shall be sung'another golden age,

The rise of empire and of arts,
The good and great inspiring epic rage,

The wiseft heads, and noblest hearts.

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay ;
Such as the bred when fresh and

young, When heav'nly flame did animate her clay,

By future poets shall be sung.
Westward the course of empire takes its way i

The four first acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day ;

Time's noblest offspring is the last.

TO

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I.
B

ELIEVE me, MASON, 'tis in vain

Thy fortitude the torrent braves ;
Thou too must bear th' inglorious chain;

The world, the world will have its slaves.
The chosen friend, for converse sweet,
The small, yet elegant retreat,
Are peaceful unambitious views

Which early fancy loves to form,
When, aided by the ingenuous Muse,
She turns the philofophic page,
And sees the wise of every age
With Nature's dictates warm.

II.
But ah! to few has Fortune given

The choice, to take or to refuse;
To fewer still indulgent Heaven

Allots the very will to chuse.
And why are varying schemes preferr'd?
Man mixes with the common herd,

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