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While his Redeemer on his canvass dies,
Stabb'd at his feet his brother welt'ring lies;
The daring artist, cruelly serene,
Views the pale cheek and the distorted mien;
He drains off life by drops, and, deaf to cries,
Examines ev'ry spirit as it flies:
He studies torment; dives in mortal woe;
To rouse up ev'ry pang, repeats his blow;
Each rising agony, each dreadful grace,
Yet warm, transplanting to his Saviour's face,
O glorious theft! O nobly wicked draught !
With its full charge of death each feature fraught!
Such wondrous force the magic colours boast,
From his own skill he starts, in horror lost,
* Who obtained leave to treat a malefacior, condemned to be broke upon the wheel, as die pleased for this purpose. The man being extended, this wonderful artisi directed that he should be stabbed in such parts of the body as he apprehended would occasion the most excruciating torture, that he might represent the ago. pies of death in the most natural manner.
EPILOGUE TO THE BROTHERS.
in Epilogue, thro' custom, is your right,
But ne'er perhaps was needful till this night.
To-night the virtuous falls, the guilty flies;
Guill's dreadful close our narrow scene denies.
In history's authentic record read
What ample vengeance gluts Demetrius' shade!
Vengeance so great, that, when his tale is told,
With pily some ev'n Perseus may behold.
Perseus surviv'd, indeed, and fillid the throne,
But ceaseless cares in conquest made him groan:
Nor reign'd he long; from Rome swift thunder flew,
And headlong from his throne the tyrant threw:
Throwın teadlong down, by Rome in triumph led,
For this night's deed his perjur'd bosom bled :
His brother's ghost each moment made him start,
And all his father's anguish rent his heart.
When, rob'din black, his children round him hung, And their rais'd arms in early sorrow wrung; The younger smild, unconscious of their woe, At which thy tears, O Rome! began to flow, So sad the scene: what then must Perseus feel, To see Jove's race attend the victor's wheel?
To see the slaves of his worst foes increase
From such a source !---an emperor's embrace ?
He sicken'd soon to death; and, what is worse,
He well deserv'd, and felt the coward's curse;
Unpity'd, scorn'd, insulted his last hour,
Far, far from home, and in a vassal's pow'r.
His pale cheek rested on his shameful chain,
No friend to mourn, no flatterer to feign.
No suit retards, no comfort sooths his doom,
And not one tear bedews a monarch's tomb.
Nor ends it thus---Dire vengeance to complete,
His ancient empire falling, shares his fate.
His throne forgot! his weeping country chain'd!
And nations ask---where Alexander reign'd.
As public woes a prince's crimes pursue,
So public blessings are his virtues' due.
Shout, Britons ! shout;----auspicious fortune bless!
And cry, Long live---pur title to suecess!
te the fi
te the se
ration of Majesty The succe
Obe, occasioned by his Majesty's royal encou-
Tagement of the sea-service. To the King, r,28,
Ocean. An ode,
Sea-piece: containing, 1. The British Sailor's ex-
ultation. 2. His prayer before engagement.
The Dedication. To Mr. Voltaire,
Ode the First,
Ode the Second,
Imperium Pelagi: a Naval Lyric. Written in imi-
tation of Pindar's Spirit. Occasioned by 'his
Majesty's return from Hanover, Sept. 1724, and
the succeeding peace.
A paraphrase on part of the book of Job,