Imatges de pÓgina

'Twas Night, when Nature was in Sables dress’d; Tempestuous Winds in hollow Caves did reft. Impending Rocks with Slumber seem'd to bow ;, And drowsy Mountains hung their heavy Brow: The weary Waves rould nodding on the Deep, Or stretch'd on oozy Beds, they murmur'd in their Sleep. Blør.

'Tis Night, dead Night, and weary Night lics So fast, as if she never were to rise: No Breath of Wind now whispers thro' the Trees, No Noise at Land, nor Murmur in the Seas : Lean Wolves forget to howl at Night's pale Noon, No wakeful Dogs bark at the filent Moon; Nor bay the Ghosts that glide with Horror by, To view the Caverns where their Bodies lie; The Ravens perch, and no Presages give, Nor to the Windows of the Dying cleave: The Owls forget to scream, no Midnight Sound Calls drowsy Echo from the hollow Ground. In Vaults the waking Fires extinguish'd lie ; The Stars, Heay'ns Centry, wink, and seem to die. Lee Theod,

'Twas Dead of Night, when weary Bodies close Their Eyes in balmy Sleep, and soft Repose. The Winds no longer whisper thro' the Woods, Nor murm'ring Tides difturb the gentle Floods : The Stars, in silent Order, mov'd around, And Peace, with downy Wings, was brooding on the Ground. The Flocks, and Herds, and party-colour'd Fowl, Which haunt the Woods, or swim the weedy Pool, Stretch'd on the guiet Earth, securely lay, Forgetting the past Labours of the Day.

Dryd. Virg. All things are hush'd, as Nature's self lay dead; . The Mountains seem to nod their drowsy Head : The little Birds in Dreams their Songs repeat, And Ileeping Flow'rs beneath the Night-Dew sweat : Ev'n Luft and Envy sleep.

Dryd. Ind. Emp. All things are húsh'd, as when the Drawers tread Softly to steal the Key from Master's Head; The dying Snuffs do twinkle in their Urns, As 'twere the Socket, not the Candle, burns : The little

Foot-boy Inores upon the Stair ; And greasy Cook-maid. sweats in Elbow-chair: No Coach nor Link was heard:

Ratci NIGHTINGALE. Ser Creation, Light The Night-warbling Bird Tunes sweetest her Love-labour'd Song.

Milt. She all Night long her am'rous Descant fings, Trills her chick-warbled Nores the Summer long. Mill,


So, close in Poplar Shades, her Children gone,
The Mother Nightingale laments alone :
Whose Neft fome.prying Churl had found, and thence
By Stealth convey'à th'unfeather'a Tunocence.
But lhe supplies the Night with mournful Strains,
And melancholly Mufick fills the Plains.

Dryd. Virg.
Thus in some Poplar Shade, the Nightingale
With piercing Moans does her loft Young bewail :
Which the rough Hind observing as they lay
Warm in their downy Neft, had ftol'n away :
But she in mournful Sound does ftill complain,
Sings all the Night, tho' all her Songs are vain,
And still renews her miserable Strain.

Lée Theod, NOBILITY of BLOOD. See Bastard.

Nobility of Blood,
Is but a glitt'ring and fallacious Good:
The Nobleman is he, whose noble Mind
Is fill'd with in-born Worth, unborrow'd from his Kind.
The King of Heav'n was in a Manger laid.
And took his Earth but from an humble Maid :
Then what can Birth on mortal Men bestow,
Since Floods no higher than their fountains flow
We, who for Name and empty Honour strive,
Our true Nobility from him derive.
Your Ancestors, who puff your Mind with Pride;
And vast Estates, to mighty Titles ty'd,
Did not your Honour, but their own advance;
For Virtue comes not by Inheritance :
If you tralineate from your Father's Mind,
What are you else but of a Bastard Kind :
Do as your great Progenitors have done, (of Bath's Tales
And by your Virtue prove your self their Son. Dryd. Wife

Virtue alone is true Nobility :
Let your own Aets immortalize your Name;
'Tis poor relying on anocher's Fame:
For take the Pillars but away, and all
The Superstructure must in Ruins fall :
As a Vine droops, when by Divorce remov'd,
From the Embraces of the Elm lhe lov'd.

Step. Juv.
Search we the Springs,
And backward trace the Principles of Things :
There shall we find that when the World began,
One common Mafs compos'd tbe Mould of Man ;
One Paste of Flesh on all Degrees bestow'd ;
And kneaded up alike with moistning Blood.
The fame Almighty Pow'r inspir'd the Frame
With kindled Life, and form'd the Souls the same,


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The Faculties of Intellect and Will,
Dispens'd with equal Hand, dispos'd with egual Skill:
Like Liberty indulg’d withChoice of Good or III.
Thus born alike, from Virtue first began
The Diff'rence that diftinguith'd Man from Man,
He claim'd no Title from Descent of Blood,
But that which made him Noble, made him Good.
Warm'd with more Particles of heav'nly Flame,
He wing'd his upward Flight and soar'd to Fame;
The rest remain'd below a Tribe without a Name.
This Law, tho' Custom now diverts the Gourse,
As Nature's Institute is yet in Force :
Uncancell'd, tho' difusd: And he, whose Mind
Is virtuous, is alone of noble Kind ;
Tho'poor in Fortune, of celestial Race :
And he commits the Crime, who calls him base.

Ev'n Mighty Monarchs oft are meanly born,
And Kings by Birth to lowest Rank return :
All subject to the Pow'r of giddy Chance ;
For Fortane can depress, and can advance.
But true Nobility is of the Mind,

(Guifc. Not giv'n by Chance, and not to Chance resign'd. Dryd. Sig.

No Father can infuse or Wit, or Grace ;
A Mother comes across and mars the Race:
A Grandfire or a Grandame caints che Blood;
And feldom Three Descents continue good.
Were Virtue by Descent, a noble Name
Could never villanize his Father's Fame :
But as the first, the last of all the Line,
Would; like the Sun, ev'n in descending, shine.

Nobility of Blood is but Renown
Of thy great Fathers, by their Virtue known,
And a long Trail of Light to thee descending down.
If in thy Smoke it ends, their Glories shine,
But Infamy and Villanage are thine. Dryd. Wife of Barb's Tale.

And still more publick Scandal Vice extends,
As he is Great and Noble who offends.

Step. Juu.
Fairest Piece of well-form'd Earth,
Urge not thus your haughty Birth.
The Pow's, which you have o'er us, lies
Not in your Race, but in your Eyes.

The Sap which at the Root is bred
In Trees, thro' all the Boughs is spread;
But Virtues which in Parents shine,
Make not like Progress thro'che Line.
'Tis Art and Knowledge which draw forth
The hidden Seeds of native Worth:



They blow those Sparks, and make 'em rise
Into such Flames as touch the Skies.
To che old Heroes hence was giv'n
A Pedigree that reach'd to Heav'n.
Of morcal Seed they were nor held,
Who other Mortals so excell'd:
And Beauty too in such Excess
As yours, Zelinda, claims no less.
Smile but on me, and you shall scorn
Henceforth to be of Princes born.
I can describe the shady Grove,
Where your lov'd Mother slept with Jove;
And yet excuse the faultless Dame,
Caught with her Spouse's Shape and Name.
Thy matchless Form will Credit bring
To all the Wonders I shall sing.


NOON. The fiery Sun has finish'd half his Race. Dryd. Virg.

The southing Sun infames the Day, And the dry Herbage thirsts for Dews in vain ; And Sheep in Shades avoid

the parching Plain. Dryd. Virg.

The full blazing Sun Does now fit high in his meridian Tow'r. Shoots down dire& his fervid Rays, to warm Earth's inmoft Womb.

At Noon of Day
The Sun with sultry Beams began to play.
Not Syrius shoots a fiercer Flame from high,
When with his pois'nous Breath he blasts the Sky.
Then droop'd the fading Flow'rs, their Beauty fled,
They clos'd their fickly Eyes, and hung the Head,
And, rivell’d up with "Heat, Jay dying in the Bed.
The Ladies gafp'd and scarcely could'respire,
The Breath they drew, no longer Air, but Fire.
The fainty Knights were scorcli'd. Dryd. The Flower and the Leaf.

Nothing, thou Elder-Brother ev'n to Shade!
Thou had'st a Being e'er the World was made,
And, well-fixd, art alone of ending not afraid.
E'er Time and Place were, Time and Place were not ;
When primitive Nothing Something strait begot ;
Then all proceeded from the great united—What?
Something, the gen'ral Attribute of all,
Sever'd from thee, its sole Original,
Into thy boundless Self must undistinguish d fall,






Yet Something did thy

mighty Pow'r command, And from thy fruitful Emptiness's Hand Snatch'd Men, Beasts, Birds, Fire, Air, and Land. Matter the wicked'nt Off-spring of thy Race, By Form affifted, flew from thy Embrace, And Rebel Light obfcur'd thy rev'rend dusky Face. With Form and Matter, Time and Place did joya ; Body, thy Foe, with these did Leagues combine, To spoil thy peaceful Realm, and ruin all thy Line. Yet turn-coac Time aliifts the Foe in vain, But brib'd by thee assists thy short-liv'd Reign; And to thy hungry:Womb drives back thy Slaves agaio. Tho' Mysteries are barr'd from Laick Eyes, And the Divine alone with Warrant pries Into thy Bofom, where the Truth in private lies; Yet this of thee the Wife may freely fay, Thou from the Virtuous nothing tak't away, And to be part of thee che Wicked wisely pray. Great Negative ! how vainly would the Wife Enquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise, Didnt thou not stand to point their dull Philosophics. Is, or is nor! the Two great Ends of Fate; And true or false, the Subject of Debate, That perfe& or destroy the vast Designs of Fate; When they have rack'd the Politician's Breaft, Within thy Bosom moft securely reft, And when reduc'd to thee, are least unsafe and best. Nothing, who dwell's with Fools in grave Disguise, For whom they rev'rend Shapes and Forms devise, Lawn Sleeves, and Furs, and Gowns, when they, like thee,

(look wife. French Truth, Dutch Prowess, British Policy, Hybernian Learning, Scotch Civility, Spaniards Dispatch, Danes Wit, are mainly seen in thee. The great Man's Gracitude to his bef Friend, Kings Promises, Whores Vows, to thee they tend, Flow swiftly into thee, and in thee ever end. Rocha

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NOVELTY. All Novelties must this Success expect, When good, our Envy; and when bad, Neglect. Gar.

A&tions of the last Age, are like Almanacks of the last year. And when remote in Time, like Objects Remote in Place, are not beheld ac half their Greatness. And what is new finds better Acceptation, Than what is good and great.

Denb. Sophy.


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