Antient and modern Italy compared: being the first part of Liberty, a poem. By Mr. Thomson — Liberty, a poem.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERICK, PRINCE of WALES.

- BOOKS Printed for, and Sold by A. Millar.

LIBERTY.

PART I.

OMY lamented TALBOT! while with Thee

The Muse gay-rov'd the glad Hesperian Round,

And drew th' inspiring Breath of Ancient Arts;

Ah! little thought she her returning Verse

Should sing our Darling Subject to thy Shade.

And does the Mystic Veil, from mortal Beam,

Involve those Eyes where every Virtue smil'd,

And all the FATHER'S candid Spirit shone?

The Light of Reason, pure, without a Cloud;

Full of the generous Heart, the mild Regard;

Unblemish'd Honour, uncorrupted Faith;

And limpid Truth, that looks the very Soul.

But to the Death of mighty Nations turn'd

My Strain, be there absorb'd the Private Tear.

MUSING, I lay; warm from the sacred Walks,

Where at each step Imagination burns:

Ten thousand Wonders rowling in my thought,

As the Great Scene of deathless deeds I tread,

Tread the blest Ground by more than mortals trod,

And see those Skies that breath'd the Roman Soul.

Mean time wide-scatter'd round, awful, and hoar,

Lies a vast Monument once glorious Rome,

The Tomb of Empire! Ruins! that efface

Whate'er, of finish'd, modern Pomp can boast.

Of these Ideas full, reposing Sense

In slumber sunk; and Fancy's Magic hand

Led me anew o'er all the solemn Scene,

Still in the Mind's pure eye more solemn drest.

When strait, methought, the fair majestic POWER

Of LIBERTY appear'd. Not, as of old,

Extended in her hand the Cap, and Rod,

Whose Slave-inlarging touch gave double life:

But her bright Temples bound with British Oak,

And Naval Honours nodded on her Brow.

Sublime her Port. Loose o'er her Shoulder flow'd

Her sea-green Robe, with Constellations gay.

An Island Goddess now; and her high care

The Queen of Isles, the Mistress of the Main.

My heart beat filial transport at the sight;

And, as she mov'd to speak, th' awaken'd Muse

Listen'd intense. A while she look'd around,

With mournful eye the well-known Ruins mark'd,

And then, her Sighs repressing, thus began.

Mine are these Wonders, all thou see'st is mine;

But ah how chang'd! the falling poor Remains

Of what exalted once th' Ausonian Shore.

Look back thro' time; and from the gloom disclos'd,

Painting my words, behold the scatter'd Scene.

The Great Republick see! that glow'd sublime

With the mixt Freedom of a thousand States;

Rais'd on the Thrones of Kings her Curule Chair,

And by her Fasces aw'd the subject World.

See busy Millions swarming all the Land,

With Cities throng'd, and teeming Culture high:

For on her free-born Sons then Nature smil'd,

And pour'd the Plenty that belongs to Men.

Behold, the Country chearing, Villas rise,

In lively Prospect; by the secret lapse

Of Brooks now lost, and Streams renown'd in Song:

In Umbria's closing Vales, or on the brow

Of her brown Hills that breathe the scented gale:

On Baia's viny coast; where peaceful Seas,

Fan'd by kind Zephirs, ever kiss the shore;

And Suns unclouded shine, and purest Air:

Or in the spacious Neighbourhood of Rome;

Far-shining upwards to the Sabine Hills,

To Anio's Roar, and Tibur's Olive Shade;

To where Preneste lifts her airy Brow;

Or downwards spreading to the sunny shore,

Wav'd from the main, where Alba draws the Breeze.

See distant Mountains leave their Vallies dry,

And o'er the proud Arcade their Tribute pour,

To lave Imperial Rome. For ages laid

Deep, massy, firm, diverging every way,

From sea to sea, her Public Roads behold:

By various Nations trod, and suppliant Kings;

With Legions flaming, or with Triumph green.

Full in the Centre of these wondrous Works,

While Tombs of Heroes consecrate the way,

The Pride of Earth! Rome in her Glory see!

Behold her Demigods, in Senate met;

All Head to counsel, and all Heart to act:

The Commonweal inspiring every Tongue

With fervent Eloquence, unbrib'd, and bold;

Ere low Corruption taught the Servile Herd

To know a Master's voice. Astonish'd, mark

Her Forum, earnest, popular, and loud,

In trembling wonder hush'd, when the two [*] SIRES,

As they the Private Father greatly quell'd,

Stood up the Public Fathers of the State.

See Justice judging there in Human Shape.

Hark how with Freedom's voice it thunders high,

Or in soft murmurs sinks to TULLY'S tongue.

Her Tribes, her Census see; her Generous Troops,

Whose Pay was Glory, and whose best Reward

Free for their Country and for ME to die;

Ere Mercenary Murder grew a Trade.

Mark, as the purple Triumph waves along,

The highest Pomp and lowest Fall of Life.

Her Festive Games, the School of Heroes, see;

Her Circus, ardent with contending Youth;

Her Streets, her Temples, Palaces, and Baths,

Full of fair Forms of Beauty's eldest born,

And of a Race by Plastic Virtue mark'd.

While Sculpture lives around, and Asian Hills

Lend their best Stores to heave the pillar'd Dome:

All that to Roman Grandeur the soft Touch

Of Grecian Art can join. But Language fails

To paint this Sun, this Center of Mankind;

Where every Virtue, Glory, Treasure, Art,

Attracted strong, in heighten'd lustre met.

Need I the Contrast mark? unjoyous View!

A Land in all, in Government, and Arts,

In Virtue, Genius, Heaven and Earth revers'd.

Who but these far-fam'd Ruins to behold,

Proofs of a People, whose heroic Aims

Soar'd far above the little selfish sphere

Of doubting modern Life; who but inflam'd

With Classic Zeal, the consecrated Scenes

Of Men and Deeds to trace, the Wonder, Theme,

And Model of Mankind; unhappy Land!

Would trust thy Wilds, and Cities loose of sway?

Are these the Vales, that once exulting States

In their warm bosom fed? The Mountains these,

On whose high-blooming sides my Sons of old

I bred to Glory? These dejected Towns,

Sordid, and mean, where Life can scarce subsist,

The Scenes of Antient Opulence, and Pomp?

Come! by whatever Sacred Name disguis'd,

OPPRESSION, come! and in thy works rejoice!

See Nature's richest Plains to putrid Fens

Turn'd by thy Rage. From their unchearful bounds

See raz'd th' enliv'ning Village, Farm, and Seat.

First Rural Toil, by thy rapacious hand

Robb'd of his poor Reward, resign'd the Plow;

And now he dares not turn the noxious Glebe.

'Tis thine intire. The lonely Swain himself,

Who loves at large along the grassy Downs

His flocks to pasture, Thine abhorrent flies.

Far as the sickening Eye can sweep around,

'Tis all one Desart, desolate, and grey,

Graz'd by the sullen Bufalo alone;

And where the rank unventilated Growth

Of rotting Ages taints the passing Gale.

Beneath the baleful Blast the City pines,

Or sinks infeebl'd, or infected burns.

Beneath it mourns the solitary Road,

Roll'd in rude Mazes o'er th' abandon'd Waste;

While Antient Ways, ingulph'd, are seen no more.

Such thy dire Plains, thou Self-Destroyer! Foe

To Human-kind! Thy Mountains too, profuse

Where savage Nature blooms, seem their sad plaint

To raise against thy desolating Rod.

There on the breezy Brow, where thriving States,

And famous Cities once, to the pleas'd Sun,

Far other Scenes of rising Culture spread,

Pale shine thy ragged Towns. Neglected round,

Each Harvest pines; the livid, lean Produce

Of heartless Labour: while thy hated Joys,

Not proper Pleasure, lift the lazy hand.

Better to sink in Sloth the Woes of life,

Than wake their rage with unavailing Toil.

Hence drooping Art almost to Nature leaves

The rude, unguided Year. Thin wave the Gifts

Of yellow Ceres, thin the radiant Blush

Of Orchard reddens in the warmest ray.

To weedy wildness run, no Rural Wealth,

(Such as Dictators fed) the Garden pours.

Crude the wild Olive flows, and foul the Vine;

Nor Juice Coecubian, nor Falernian, more

Streams Life, and Joy, save in the Muse's bowl.

Unseconded by Art, the spinning Race

Draw the bright thread in vain, and idly toil.

In vain, forlorn in wilds, the Citron blows;

And flowering Plants perfume the desart gale.

Thro' the vile hedge the tender Myrtle twines.

Inglorious droops the Laurel, dead to Song,

And long a stranger to the Heroe's brow.

Nor half thy Triumph this: cast from brute Fields

Into the Haunts of Men thy ruthless eye.

There buxom Plenty never turns her horn;

The Grace and Virtue of exterior Life,

No clean Convenience reigns; even Sleep itself,

Least delicate of Powers, reluctant there

Lays on the Bed impure his heavy head.

Thy horrid Walk! dead, empty, unadorn'd,

See Streets whose Echos never know the voice

Of chearful Hurry, Commerce many-tongue'd,

And Art mechanic at his various task

Fervent employ'd. Mark the desponding Race,

Of Occupation void, as void of Hope;

Hope the glad Ray, glanc'd from ETERNAL GOOD,

That Life enlivens, and exalts it's Powers,

With views of Fortune—Madness all to them!

By Thee relentless seiz'd their better Joys,

To the soft aid of cordial Airs they fly,

A kind Oblivion breathing o'er their Woes,

And Love and Music melt their Souls away.

From feeble Justice see how rash Revenge,

Trembling, the Ballance snatches; and her Sword,

Fearful himself, to venal Ruffians gives.

See where GOD'S Altar nursing Murder stands,

With the red touch of dark Assassins stain'd.

But chief let Rome, the mighty City! speak

The full-exerted Genius of thy Reign.

Behold Her rise amid the lifeless Waste,

Expiring Nature all corrupted round;

While the lone Tyber, thro' the desart Shore,

Winds his waste stores, and sullen sweeps along.

Patch'd from my Fragments, in unsolid Pomp,

Mark how the Temple glares; and, artful drest,

Amusive draws the superstitious Train.

Mark how the Palace lifts a lying front,

Concealing often, in magnific Jail,

Proud Want, a deep unanimated Gloom!

And often joining to the drear abode

Of Misery, whose melancholy walls

Seem its voracious Grandeur to reproach.

Within the City Bounds, the Desart see.

See the rank Vine o'er subterranean roofs,

Indecent, spread; beneath whose fretted gold

It once exulting flow'd. The People mark,

Matchless, while fir'd by me; to Public Good

Inexorably firm, just, generous, brave,

Afraid of nothing but unworthy Life,

Elate with Glory, an Heroic Soul

Known to the Vulgar Breast: behold them now

A thin despairing Number, all subdu'd,

The Slaves of Slaves, by Superstition fool'd,

By Vice unman'd and a licentious Rule,

In Guile ingenious, and in Murder brave.

Such in one Land, beneath the same fair Clime,

Thy Sons, OPPRESSION, are; and such were MINE.

Even with thy labour'd State, for whose vain show

Deluded Thousands starve; all age-begrim'd,

Torn robb'd and scatter'd in unnumber'd Sacks,

And by the Tempest of two thousand Years

Continual shaken, let my Ruins vie.

These Roads that yet the Roman hand assert,

Beyond the weak repair of modern Toil;

These fractur'd Arches, that the chiding Stream

No more delighted hear; these rich Remains

Of Marbles now unknown, where shines imbib'd

Each parent ray; these massy Columns, hew'd

From Africk's farthest shore; one Granite all,

These Obelisks high-towering to the Sky,

Mysterious mark'd with dark Egyptian Lore;

These endless Wonders that this [*] Sacred Way

Illumine still, and consecrate to Fame;

These Fountains, Vases, Urns, and Statues, charg'd

With the fine stores of Art-compleating Greece.

From these too drawn, mine is thy every Boast:

Thy [†] BUONAROTIS, thy PALLADIOS mine;

And mine the fair Designs, that RAPHAEL'S soul

O'er the live canvass emanating breath'd.

What would you say, ye Conquerors of Earth!

Ye Romans! could you raise the laurel'd Head;

Could you the Country see, with Seas of blood,

And the dread Toil of ages, won so dear;

Your Pride, your Triumph, your supreme Delight!

For whose Defence oft, in the doubtful hour,

You rush'd with rapture down the gulph of Fate,

Of Death ambitious! till by awful Deeds,

Virtues, and Courage, that amaze Mankind,

The Queen of Nations rose; possest of all

That Nature, Art, and Glory could bestow:

What would you say, deep in the last Abyss

Of Slavery, Vice, and unambitious Want,

Thus to behold her sunk? Your crowded Plains,

Void of their Cities; unadorn'd your Hills;

Ungrac'd your Lakes; your Ports to Ships unknown;

Your lawless Floods, and your abandon'd Streams;

These could you know? these could you love again?

Thy Tibur, HORACE, could it now inspire

Content, Poetic Ease, and Rural Joy,

Soon bursting into Song: while thro' the Groves

Of headlong Anio, dashing to the Vale,

In many a tortur'd Stream, you mus'd along?

[*] Yon wild retreat, where Superstition dreams,

Could, TULLY, you your Tusculum believe?

And could you deem yon naked Hills, that form,

Fam'd in old Song, the Ship-forsaken [†] Bay,

Your Formian Shore? Once the Delight of Earth,

Where Art and Nature, ever-smiling, join'd

On the gay Land to lavish all their Stores;

How chang'd, how vacant, VIRGIL, wide around,

Would now your Naples seem? Disaster'd less

By black Vesuvius thundering o'er the Coast,

His midnight Earthquakes, and his mining Fires,

Than by Despotic Rage: that inward gnaws,

A native Foe; a foreign, tears without.

First from your flatter'd CAESARS This begun;

Till houseless spreads, at last, the [*] Syren Plain,

That the dire Soul of HANNIBAL disarm'd;

And wrapt in Weeds the [†] Shore of Venus lies.

There Baia sees no more the joyous Throng;

Her banks all beaming with the Pride of Rome:

No generous Vines now bask along the Hills,

Where sport the Breezes of the Tyrrhene main:

With Baths and Temples mixt, no Villas rise;

Nor, Art-sustain'd amid reluctant Waves,

Draw the cool murmurs of the breathing Deep:

No spreading Ports their sacred Arms extend:

No mighty Moles the big intrusive Storm,

From the calm Station, roll resounding back.

An almost total Desolation sits,

A dreary Stillness, sad'ning o'er the Coast;

[*] Where, when soft Suns and tepid Winters rose,

Rejoicing Crowds inhal'd the balm of Peace;

Where city'd Hill to Hill reflected blaze;

And where, with Ceres, Bacchus wont to hold

A genial Strife: Her youthful Form, robust,

Even Nature yields; by Fire, and Earthquake rent:

Whole stately Cities in the dark Abrupt

Swallow'd at once, or vile in rubbish laid,

A nest for Serpents; from the red Abyss

New Hills, explosive, thrown; the Lucrine Lake

A reedy Pool; and all to Cuma's Point,

The Sea recovering his usurp'd Domain,

And pour'd triumphant o'er the bury'd Dome.

Hence, BRITAIN, learn; my best-establish'd, last,

And more than GREECE, or ROME, my steady Reign;

The Land where, King and People equal bound

By guardian Laws, my fullest Blessings flow;

And where my jealous unsubmitting Soul,

The dread of Tyrants! burns in every breast:

Learn hence, if such the miserable fate

Of an heroic Race, the Masters once

Of Humankind; what, when depriv'd of ME,

How grievous must be thine? In spite of Climes,

Whose Sun-enliven'd Aether wakes the Soul

To higher Powers; in spite of happy Soils,

That, but by Labour's slightest aid impell'd,

With Treasures teem to thy cold Clime unknown;

If there desponding fail the common Arts,

And sustenance of life: could Life itself,

Or, heart-consum'd, a Tyrant's rotten Pomp,

Subsist with thee? Against depressing Skies,

Join'd to full-spread Oppression's cloudy Brow,

How could thy Spirits hold? where Vigour find,

Forc'd Fruits to tear from their unnative Soil?

Or every Harvest storing in thy Ports,

Profuse of all, to plow the dreadful Wave?

Here paus'd the GODDESS. By the Pause assur'd,

In trembling accents thus I mov'd my Prayer.

"Oh first, and most benevolent of Powers!

"Come from eternal Splendors, here on Earth,

"Against despotic Pride, and Rage, and Lust,

"To shield Mankind; to raise them to assert

"The native Rights, and Honour of their Race.

"Teach me thy lowest Subject, but in Zeal

"Yielding to none, the PROGRESS OF THY REIGN▪

"And with a Strain from THEE enrich the Muse•

"For thy proud Slave, alone; her Patron Thou,

"And great Inspirer be! then will she joy,

"Tho' narrow Life her Lot, and Private Shade:

"And when her Venal Voice she barters vile,

"Or to thy open or thy secret Foes;

"May ne'er those sacred Raptures touch her more,

"By slavish Hearts unfelt! and may her Song

"Sink in oblivion with the nameless Crew!

"Vermin of State! to thy o'erflowing Light

"That owe their Being, yet betray thy Cause."

Then, condescending kind, the HEAVENLY POWER

Return'd.—"What here, suggested by the Scene,

"I slight unfold, record, and sing at home,

"In that blest Isle, where (so we Spirits move)

"With one quick effort of my Will I am.

"There Truth, unlicens'd, walks; even Kings themselves

"Invite her forth, the Monarchs of the Free!

"By that best Glory pierc'd, that God-like Joy,

"That gay Security, that Pride of Rule;

"When Men, not Slaves, when all-performing Love,

"Not sluggish Hate, and faithless Fear, obey.

"Fix'd on my Rock, there an Indulgent Race

"O'er BRITONS wield the Scepter of the Heart:

"And, mixing Worth with Worth, the ROYAL PAIR

"To steady Justice yielding Goodness join.

"Nor sets the Prospect in this pleasing view;

"While there, to finish what his Sires began,

"A PRINCE behold! for ME who burns sincere,

"Even with a Subject's Zeal. He my great Work

"Will Parent-like sustain; and added give

"The Touch, the Graces and the Muses owe.

"For BRITAIN'S Glory swells his panting Breast;

"And Antient Arts He emulous revolves:

"His Pride to let the smiling Heart abroad,

"Thro' Clouds of Pomp, that but conceal the Man;

"To please his Pleasure; Bounty his Delight;

"And all the Soul of TITUS dwells in Him."

Hail glorious Theme! But how alas! shall Verse,

From the crude Stores of mortal Language drawn,

How faint and tedious, sing, what, piercing deep,

The GODDESS flash'd at once upon my Soul.

For, clear Precision all, the Tongue of Gods

Is Harmony itself; to every Ear

Familiar known, like Light to every Eye.

Mean time disclosing Ages, as She spoke,

In dread Succession pour'd their Empires forth;

Scene after Scene, the Human Drama spread;

And still th'embody'd Picture rush'd to sight.

Oh THOU! to whom the Muses owe their flame;

Who bid'st beneath the Pole Parnassus rise,

And Hippocrenè flow; with thy bold Ease

The striking Force, the Lightning of thy Thought,

And thy strong Phrase, that rowls profound, and clear;

Oh gracious GODDESS! reinspire my Song:

While I, to nobler than Poetic Fame

Aspiring, thy Commands to BRITONS bear.

Notes

*
L. J. Brutus, and Virginius.
↵

*
Via Sacra.
↵

†
M.ANGELO BUONAROTI, PALLADIO, and RAPHAEL D'URBINO; the three great modern Masters in Sculpture, Architecture, and Painting.
↵

*
Tusculum is reckoned to have stood at a Place now called Grotta Ferrata, a Convent of Monks.
↵

†
The Bay of Mola (anciently Formiae) into which HOMER brings ULYSSES, and his Companions. Near Formiae CICERO had a Villa.
↵

*
Campagna selice, adjoining to Capua.
↵

†
The Coast of Baia; which was formerly adorned with the Works mentioned in the following Lines; and where amidst many magnificent Ruins, those of a Temple erected to Venus are still to be seen.
↵

*
All along this Coast, the antient Romans had their Winter retreats; and several populous Cities stood.
↵

ANTIENT and MODERN ITALY COMPARED: Being the FIRST PART of LIBERTY, A POEM.

By Mr. THOMSON.

LONDON:••inted for A. MILLAR, over-against St. Clement's Church in the Strand. M.DCC.XXXV. (Price One Shilling.)

TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FREDERICK, PRINCE of WALES.

SIR,

WHEN I reflect upon that ready Condescension, that preventing Generosity, with which YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS received the following Poem under your Protection; I can alone ascribe it to the Recommendation, and Influence of the Subject. In you the Cause and Concerns of Liberty have so zealous a Patron, as entitles whatever may have the least Tendency to promote them, to the Distinction of your Favour. And who can entertain this delightful Reflection, without feeling a Pleasure far superior to that of the fondest Author; and of which all true Lovers of their Country must participate? To behold the noblest Dispositions of the Prince, and of the Patriot, united: an overflowing Benevolence, Generosity, and Candour of Heart, joined to an enlightened Zeal for Liberty, an intimate Persuasion that on it depends the Happiness and Glory both of Kings and People: to see these shining out in Public Virtues, as they have hitherto smiled in all the Social Lights and Private Accomplishments of Life, is a Prospect that cannot but inspire a general Sentiment of Satisfaction and Gladness, more easy to be felt than expressed.

IF the following Attempt to trace Liberty, from the first Ages down to her excellent Establishment in GREAT BRITAIN, can at all merit your Approbation, and prove an Entertainment to YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS; if it can in any Degree answer the Dignity of the Subject, and of the Name under which I presume to shelter it; I have my best Reward: particularly, as it affords me an Opportunity of declaring that I am, with the greatest Zeal and Respect,

SIR,
YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS'S Most Obedient And most Devoted Servant, James Thomson.

BOOKS Printed for, and Sold by A. Millar.

- I. THE History of the Union of Great-Britain, done from the Publick Records; containing, I. A General History of Unions in Britain. II. Of Affairs of both Kingdoms introductory to the Treaty. III. Of the last Treaty properly called the Union. IV. Of the carrying on of the Treaty in England, next in Scotland. V. The Proceedings and Minutes of the Parliament of Scotland, with Observations thereon, as finish'd there, and exemplified in England; in which is contain'd the Right and Method of electing the Peers and Commons; and all the Articles relating to both Kingdoms, as confirm'd by the Parliament of Great-Britain: To which is added an Appendix of Original Vouchers.

- II. Georgii Buchanani Scoti, Poetarum sui seculi facile principis, Opera omnia, ad optimorum codicum fidem summo studio recognita, & castigata: nunc primum in unum collecta, ab innumeris fere mendis, quibus plerique omnes editiones antea scatebant, repurgata; ac variis insuper notis aliisque utilissimis accessionibus illustrata & aucta, folio, curante Tho. Ruddimanno, A. M. 2 Tom.

- III. Collections relating to the History of Mary Queen of Scotland, containing a great number of original Papers, never before printed: Also a few scarce Pieces reprinted, taken from the best Copies, by the Learned and Judicious James Anderson Esq late Postmaster-General and Antiquary of Scotland. With an explanatory Index of the obsolete Words; and Preface, shewing the Importance of these Collections. In 4 Vol. on a fine imperial Paper, and a most beautiful Letter. 4to.

N. B. There is a Second Edition, printed on a smaller Paper.

- IV. The Seasons. A Hymn. A Poem to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton. And Britannia, a Poem. By Mr. Thomson. With Cuts; both in 4to and 8vo.

- V. The Tragedy of Sophonisba. Acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, by his Majesty's Servants. Written by Mr. Thomson. Both in 4to and 8vo.

- VI. Poems, 2 vol. in 12mo.

- VII. The Ever-Green; being a Collection of Scots Poems wrote by the Ingenious before 1600. 2 vol. 12mo.

- VIII. The Tea-Table Miscellany, or a Collection of Scots Songs. 3 vol.

- IX. The Gentle Shepherd; a Scots Pastoral Comedy.

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Antient and modern Italy compared: being the first part of Liberty, a poem. By Mr. Thomson

Liberty, a poem.

Thomson, James, 1700-1748.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3841

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1106008405

ID [isbn13]

9781106008404

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K030889.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3309522745

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0081901200

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— Antient and modern Italy compared: being the first part of Liberty, a poem. By Mr. Thomson, Liberty, a poem., Thomson, James, 1700-1748.. 37,[3]p. ; 4⁰. London :: printed for A. Millar,. 1735.. [Half-title: 'Liberty. A poem'.] [With a final advertisement leaf.] [The ornaments are those used by Henry Woodfall.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [Foxon, T186] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT22178.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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