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't is this, that shakes our country with alarms,
and gives up Rome a prey to Roman arms;
Produces fraud, and cruelty, and strife.
and robs the guilty world of Cato's life.

Exeunt omnes.


Occasioned by Mr. Addison's Tragedy of that name.

His ancient Rome by party-factions rent,
long since the generous Cato did lament;
himself united with his country's cause,
bravely refus'd to live, 'inidst dying laws.
Pleas'd with returning liberty to come,
with joy the hero rises from his tomb;
and in Britannia finds a second Rome.
Till by repeated rage, and civil fires,
th' unhappy patriot again expires;
weeps o'er her fate, and to the gods retires.

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was second son of Barnard Granville, esq. brother of the first earl of Bath of this name. Under the tuition of sir William Ellys, a pupil of Busby, young Granville travelled abroad; at the age of eleven he entered at Trinity college, Cambridge, and two years after he was created M. A. He had a strong passion for a military life, but his father uniformly checked this propensity. Prevented from trying his valour in the field, he resigned himself to the influences of the Muses. He became passionately attached to the charming but inexorable countess of Newburgh, whom he has extolled in various compositions under the epithet of Myra; but he prostituted his time, affection, talents, and fame, at the shrine of unyielding charms. His compositions are chiefly in imitation of Waller. Of his dramatic pieces the "British Enchanters," obtained the public applause for forty successive nights, under the management of Betterton. Flattered by the muse of Dryden and of Addison, at the age of forty-five he was introduced to queen Anne. Granville was in parliament for Fowley. A change in administration cut off his hopes of aggrandizement, till, at the trial of Sacheverell, 1710, he was again replaced in favour with the queen and became secretary at war in the room of Walpole. In 1711 he married Mary, lord Jersey's daughter, widow of Thomas Thynne, and the same year was created baron of Bideford, viscount Landsdowne, in Devonshire. In 1712 he was made privy counsellor, comptroller, and

afterwards treasurer of the household. The death of the queen caused him to be removed from his offices; but he remained attached to his friends, and strongly protested against the attainting of Ormond and Bolingbroke. Suspected of attachment to the pretender's party he was arrested Sep. 26, 1715 and committed to the tower, where he remained till 1717. On the breaking out of Atterbury's accusation he retired to France. After an absence of 10 years at Paris, he returned to England, and published his poems in 1732, with a vindication of his uncle sir Richard Granville, against the misrepresentations of Burnett, of Echard, and Clarendon, in 2 vols. 4to. The remainder of his life he passed in private repose and literary retirement. He died Jan. 30, 1735, aged 68, a few days after his wife. He had 4 daughters but no male issue, and the title became extinct.

-Waller's muse

in courteous Granville lives, and still we hear
of Jove and Juno, Mercury and Mars;
and all the nauseous mythologic rout.
May he that loves hereafter, never win
the angel he adores, if in his song
he aught of pagan ornament display.
May he be curs'd, like you, unlucky bard,
be Saccharissa's dupe, and Myra's scorn.





Second Act of Seneca's Thyestus.

When will the gods, propitious to our prayers compose our factions, and conclude our wars? Ye sons of Inachus, repent the guilt

of crowns usurp'd and blood of parents spilt; for impious greatness, vengeance is in store; short is the date of all ill-gotten power. Give ear, ambitious princes, and be wise; listen, and learn wherein true greatness lies: place not your pride in roofs that shine with gems, in purple robes, nor sparkling diadems;

nor in dominion, nor extent of land;

he's only great, who can himself command, whose guard is peaceful innocence, whose guide is faithful reason; who is void of pride, checking ambition; nor is idly vain of the false incense of a popular train; who without strife, or envy, can behold his neighbour's plenty, and his heaps of gold; nor covets other wealth, but what we find in the possessions of a virtuous mind.

Fearless he sees, who is with virtue crown'd, the tempest rage, and hears the thunder sound; ever the same, let fortune smile or frown, on the red scaffold, or the blazing throne; serenely, as he liv'd, resigns his breath, meets destiny half way, nor shrinks at death. Ye sovereign lords, who sit like gods in state No. 78.


awing the world, and bustling to be great; lords but in title, vassals in effect,

whom lust controuls, and wild desires direct: the reins of empire but such hands disgrace, where passion, a blind driver, guides the race. What is this fame, thus crowded round with slaves? the breath of fools, the bait of flattering knaves: an honest heart, a conscience free from blame, not of great acts, but good, give me the name: in vain we plant, we build, our stores increase, if conscience roots up all our inward peace. What need of arms, or instruments of war, or battering engines that destroy from far? the greatest king, and conqueror is he, who lord of his own appetites can be; blest with a pow'r that nothing can destroy, and all have equal freedom to enjoy.

Whom worldly luxury, and pomps allure, they tread on ice, and find no footing sure; place me, ye powers! in some obscure retreat, O! keep me innocent, make others great: in quiet shades, content with rural sports, give me a life remote from guilty courts, where free from hopes or fears, in humble ease, unheard of, I may live and die in peace.

Happy the man who thus retir'd from sight, studies himself, and seeks no other light: but most unhappy he, who sits on high, expos'd to every tongue and every eye; whose follies blaz'd about, to all are known, but are a secret to himself alone:

worse is an evil fame, much worse than none.

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