About this time, he in a manner left the world, (though living near so populous a part of it as London) and settled at Plaistow in Essex; where he entirely devoted himself to his study, family, and garden; and the accomplishment of many profitable views; particularly one, in which for years he had laboured through experiments in vain; and when he brought it to perfection, did not live to reap the benefit of it:  The discovery of the art of making pot-ash like the Russian, which cost this nation, yearly, an immense sum of money.

In the year 1743 he published The Fanciad, an Heroic Poem; inscribed to his grace the duke of Marlborough:  Who as no name was then prefixed to it, perhaps, knew not the author by whom he was distinguished in it.

Soon after he wrote another, intitled the Impartial; which he inscribed, in the same manner, to the lord Carteret (now earl of Granville).  In the beginning of it are the following lines,

  Burn, sooty slander, burn thy blotted scroll;
  Greatness is greatness, spite of faction’s soul.

  Deep let my soul detest th’adhesive pride,
  That changing sentiment, unchanges side.

It would be tedious to enumerate the variety of smaller pieces he at different times was author of.

His notions of the deity were boundlessly extensive; and the few lines here quoted from his Poem upon faith, published in 1746, must give the best idea of his sentiments upon that most elevated of all subjects.

  What then must be believ’d?—­Believe God kind,
  To fear were to offend him.  Fill thy heart
  With his felt laws; and act the good he loves. 
  Rev’rence his power.  Judge him but by his works: 
  Know him but in his mercies.  Rev’rence too
  The most mistaken schemes that mean his praise. 
  Rev’rence his priests.—­for ev’ry priest is his,—­
  Who finds him in his conscience.—­

This year he published his Art of Acting, a Poem, deriving Rules from a new Principle, for touching the Passions in a natural Manner, &c.  Which was dedicated to the Earl of Chesterfield.

Having for many years been in a manner forgetful of the eight Books he had finished of his Epic Poem called Gideon,—­in 1749 he re-perused that work, and published three of the Books; to which he gave the name of Gideon, or the Patriot.—­They were inscribed to the late lord Bolingbroke; to whom he accounts as follows, for the alterations he had made since the first publication of two Books.

  Erring, where thousands err’d, in youth’s hot smart,
  Propulsive prejudice had warp’d his heart: 
  Bold, and too loud he sigh’d, for high distress,
  Fond of the fall’n, nor form’d to serve success;
  Partial to woes, had weigh’d their cause too light,
  Wept o’er misfortune,—­and mis-nam’d it right: 
  Anguish, attracting, turn’d attachment wrong,
  And pity’s note mis-tun’d his devious song.

’Tis much lamented by many who are admirers of that species of poetry, that the author did not finish it.