Summary

| editor The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753)

Herod. Alas! the pain
We feel, whene’er we dispossess the soul
Of that tormenting tyrant, far exceeds
The rigour of his rule.
Pheroras. With reason quell
That haughty passion; treat it as your slave:
Resume the monarch.
The observation, which Herod makes upon this, is very affecting. The poet has drawn him so tortured with his passion, that he seems almost sufficiently punished, for the barbarity of cutting off the father and brother of Mariamne,
Herod.
Source: Wikisource

| editor The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753)

What pity is it, this illustrious young man, born to have dictated to the senate, and directed the business of a state, with the eyes of a people fixed upon him, should fall so exceedingly short of those fair hopes, he had so justly raised in every breast. He wanted one quality, without which birth, fortune, and abilities, suffer a considerable diminution. That quality is prudence; of which the duke of Wharton was so destitute, that all his parts were lost to the world, and the world lost to him.
Source: Wikisource

| editor The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753)

Nor does our world alone, its influence share;
Exhaustless bounty, and unwearied care,
Extend thro’ all th’ infinitude of space,
And circle nature with a kind embrace.
The wavy kingdoms of the deep below,
Thy power, thy wisdom, and thy goodness shew.
Here various beings without number stray,
Croud the profound, or on the surface play.
Leviathan here, the mightiest of the train,
Enormous! sails incumbent o’er the the main.
Source: Wikisource

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