Me miferable! which way fhall I fly Paradife Loft, book 4. Of the third branch, take the following famples. Lucan, talking of Pompey's fepulchre, Romanum nomen, et omne Imperium Magno est tumuli modus. Obrue faxa L. 8. 1. 798. Thus in Rowe's tranflation: Where there are feas, or air, or earth, or skies, Where-e'er Rome's empire ftretches, Pompey lies. Far Far be the vile memorial then convey'd! Fearful we violate the mighty dead. The following paffages are pure rant. Coriolanus fpeaking to his mother, What is this? Your knees to me? to your corrected fon? Cafar. Coriolanus, att 5. fe. 3. Danger knows full well, That Cæfar is more dangerous than he. And I the elder and more terrible. Julius Cæfar, att 2. sc. 4. Almabide. This day I gave my faith to him, he his to me, Almanzor. Good Heav'n, thy book of fate bcfore me lay But to tear out the journal of this day. Or if the order of the world below, Will not the gap of one whole day allow, Give me that minute when she made that vow. That minute ev'n the happy from their blifs might And those who live in grief a fhorter time would live. So fmall a link if broke, th'eternal chain Would like divided waters join again. Almanzor, Conquest of Granada, at 3. I'll hold it faft As life; and when life's gone, I'll hold this last. And if thou tak'ft it after I am flain, I'll fend my ghoft to fetch it back again. Conquest of Granada, part 2. að 3. Lyndiraxa. A crown is come, and will not fate allow. And yet I feel fomething like death is near. My guards, my guards Let not that ugly skeleton appear. Sure Destiny mistakes; this death's not mine; She doats, and meant to cut another line. VOL. II. C c Tell but 'tis too late; Tell her I am a queen Dying, I charge rebellion on my fate; Bow down, ye flaves Bow quickly down and your fubmiffion fhow; [Dies. Conquest of Granada, part 2, act 5. Ventidius. But you, ere love misled your wand'ring eyes, Were, fure, the chief and beft of human race, So perfect, that the gods who form'd you wonder'd Has mended our design. Dryden, All for Love, alt 1. Not to talk of the impiety of this fentiment, it is ludicrous instead of being lofty. The famous Epitaph on Raphael is not lefs abfurd than any of the foregoing paffages: Raphael, timuit, quo fofpite, vinci Rerum magna parens, et moriente mori. Imitated by Pope in his Epitaph on Sir God frey Kneller ; Living, |