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Till Juliusb first recall'd each exiled maid,
But Heaven, still various in its works, decreed 45
Yet ah! so bright her morning's opening ray,
Ver. 45. But Heaven, still rising in its works, decreed
6 Julius the Second, the immediate predecessor of Leo the Tenth.
Each melting sigh, and every tender tear;
strain the Smiles and Graces own;
With a gradual steps and slow, exacter France Saw Art's fair empire o'er her shores advance : By length of toil a bright perfection knew, Correctly bold, and just in all she drew : Till late Corneille, with Lucan’se spirit fired, Breathed the free strain, as Rome and he inspired : And classic judgment gain'd to sweet Racine The temperate strength of Maro's chaster line.
But wilder far the British laurel spread, And wreaths less artful crown our poet's head.
Ver. 63. His every strain the Loves and Graces own; 71. Till late Corneille from epick Lucan brought
The full expression, and the Roman thought:
c Their characters are thus distinguished by Mr. Dryden.
d About the time of Shakespeare, the poet Hardy was in great repute in France. He wrote, according to Fontenelle, six hundred plays. The French poets after him applied themselves in general to the correct improvement of the stage, which was almost totally disregarded by those of our own country, Jonson excepted.
e The favourite author of the elder Corneille.
Yet he alone to every scene could give
Where'er we turn, by Fancy charm’d, we find Some sweet illusion of the cheated mind. Oft, wild of wing, she calls the soul to rove With humbler nature, in the rural grove; Where swains contented own the quiet scene, And twilight fairies tread the circled green: Dress'd by her hand, the woods and valleys smile, And Spring diffusive decks the enchanted isle. 100
Turno tempus erit, magno cum optaverit emptum
0, more than all in powerful genius blest, Come, take thine empire o'er the willing breast ! Whate'er the wounds this youthful heart shall feel, Thy songs support me, and thy morals heal! There every thought the poet's warmth may raise, There native music dwells in all the lays. O might some verse with happiest skill persuade Expressive Picture to adopt thine aid ! What wondrous draughts might rise from every
page! What other Raphaels charm a distant age!
Methinks e'en now I view some free design, Where breathing nature lives in every line:
Ver. 101. O, blest in all that genius gives to charm,
Whose morals mend us, and whose passions warm !
And arts consenting fix their empire here.
Where breathing Nature lives in every line;
Chaste and subdued the modest lights decay,
But who is he, whose brows exalted bear A wrath impatient, and a fiercer air? Awake to all that injured worth can feel, On his own Rome he turns the avenging steel ; Yet shall not war's insatiate fury fall (So heaven ordains it) on the destined wall. See the fond mother, 'midst the plaintive train, Hung on his knees, and prostrate on the plain!
Ver. 122. A rage impatient, and a fiercer air ?
E'en now his thoughts with eager vengeance doom
& See the tragedy of Julius Cæsar. h Coriolanus. See Mr. Spence's Dialogue on the Odyssey.