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When thou would'ft build; no quarry fent its ftores
T'enrich thy walls: but thou didst hew the floods,

And make thy marble of the glaffy wave.
In fuch a palace Ariftæus found

Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tale

Of his loft bees to her maternal ear:

In fuch a palace poetry might place

The armoury of winter; where his troops,

The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy fleet,
Skin-piercing volley, bloffom-bruifing hail,

And snow that often blinds the trav❜ller's course,
And wraps him in an unexpected tomb.

Silently as a dream the fabric rofe;

No found of hammer or of faw was there.

Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts

Were foon conjoin'd, nor other cement ask'd
Than water interfus'd to make them one.

Lamps gracefully difpos'd, and of all hues,

Illumin'd ev'ry fide; a watʼry light

Gleam'd through the clear tranfparency, that seem'd

Another

Another moon new rifen, or meteor fall'n

From heav'n to earth, of lambent flame ferene.
So stood the brittle prodigy; though smooth
And flipp'ry the materials, yet froft-bound
Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within,
That royal refidence might well befit,

For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths
Of flow'rs, that fear'd no enemy but warmth,
Blush'd on the pannels. Mirrour needed none
Where all was vitreous; but in order due
Convivial table and commodious feat

(What feem'd at least commodious feat) were there, Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne auguft.

The fame lubricity was found in all,

And all was moift to the warm touch; a scene

Of evanefcent glory, once a stream,

And foon to flide into a stream again.
Alas! 'twas but a mortifying stroke
Of undefign'd feverity, that glanc'd,
(Made by a monarch) on her own eftate,

On

On human grandeur and the courts of kings.

'Twas tranfient in its nature, as in fhow

'Twas durable; as worthless, as it seem'd

Intrinsically precious; to the foot

Treach'rous and false; it fmil'd, and it was cold.

Great princes have great playthings. Some have play'd
At hewing mountains into men, and fome
At building human wonders mountain-high.
Some have amus'd the dull, fad years of life,
Life spent in indolence, and therefore fad,
With schemes of monumental fame; and fought
By pyramids and maufolæan pomp,

Short-liv'd themselves, t' immortalize their bones.
Some feek diverfion in the tented field,

And make the forrows of mankind their sport.
But war's a game, which, were their fubjects wife,
Kings would not play at. Nations would do well
T'extort their truncheons from the puny hands

Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds

Are

Are gratified with mischief; and who fpoil,
Because men fuffer it, their toy the world.

When Babel was confounded, and the

Confed'racy of projectors wild and vain
Was fplit into diversity of tongues,
Then, as a fhepherd feparates his flock,
Thefe to the upland, to the valley thofe,
God drave afunder, and affign'd their lot
To all the nations. Ample was the boon
He gave them, in its diftribution fair

great

And equal, and he bade them dwell in peace.

Peace was awhile their care: they plough'd and fow'd,

And reap'd their plenty without grudge or strife.
But violence can never longer fleep

Than human paffions please. In ev'ry heart
Are fown the sparks that kindle fiery war;
Occafion needs but fan them, and they blaze,
Cain had already shed a brother's blood:
The deluge wash'd it out; but left unquench'd

The

The feeds of murder in the breast of man.

Soon, by a righteous judgment, in the line
Of his defcending progeny was found

The first artificer of death; the fhrewd
Contriver who first sweated at the forge,
And forc'd the blunt and yet unbloodied steel
To a keen edge, and made it bright for war.
Him, Tubal nam'd, the Vulcan of old times,
The fword and faulchion their inventor claim,
And the firft fmith was the firft murd'rer's fon.
His art furviv'd the waters; and ere long,
When man was multiplied and spread abroad
In tribes and clans, and had begun to call

These meadows and that range of hills his own,

The tafted fweets of

property begat

Defire of more; and industry in some

T'improve and cultivate their just demesne,

Made others covet what they faw fo fair.

Thus war began on earth: these fought for spoil,
And thofe in felf-defence. Savage at first,

The

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