Imatges de pàgina

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 mortal Seed they were nor held,
Who other Mortals lo 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.


The fiery Sun has finish'd half his Race.

Dryd. Virg.
The southing Sun inflames 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 gafod 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-fix'd, 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-
Something, the gen'ral Attribute of all,
Sever'd from thee, its sole Original,
Into thy boundless Self must undistinguish'd fall,





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Yet Something did thy mighty Pow's command,
And from thy fruitful Emptiness's Hand
Snacch'd Men, Beasts, Birds, Fire, Air, and Land.
Matter the wicked'st 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 joyn;
Body, thy Foe, with these did Leagues combine,
To spoil thy peaceful Realm, and ruin all thy Line.
Yet turn-coat 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 again.
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 Wise may freely say,
Thou from the Virtuous nothing tak ft away,
And to be part of thee che Wicked wisely pray.
Great Negative ! how vainly would the Wife
Enquire, define, diftinguish, teach, devise,
Didit thou not stand to point their doll Philofophics.
Is, or is nor! the Two great Ends of Fate;
And true or false, the Subject of Debate,

That perfect or destroy the vast Designs of Fate;
When they have rack'd the Politician's Breast,
Within thy Bofom moft fecurely reft,
And when reduc'd to thee, are leaft unsafe and best.
Nothing, who dwell'It 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 wise.
French Truth, Dutch Prowess, British Policy,
Hybernian Learning, Scotch Civility,
Spaniards Dispatch, Danes Wit, are mainly seen in thee.
The greac Man's Gratitude to his beft Friend,
Kings Promises, Whores Vows, to thee they rend,
Flow swiftly into thee, and in thee ever end. Roch.

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

Actions of the last Age, are like Almanacks of the laft Year.
And when remote in Time, like Objects
Remote in Place, are not beheld at half cheir Greatness.
And what is new finds betrer Acceptation,
Than what is good and great.

Denh. Sophy.

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Some solitary Cloister will I chuse,
And there with holy Virgins live immur'd:
Coarse my Attire, and short shall be my Sleep,
Broke by the melancholy midnight Bell :
There hoard op ev'ry Moment of my Life,
To lengthen our the Payment of my Tears.
Fafting, and Tears, and Penitence, and Pray'r,
Shall do dead Sancho Justice ev'ry Hour :
Till ev'n fierce Raymond at the last shall say,
Now let her die, for she has griv'd enough. Dryd. Spau. Fr.

Oh lut me in a Cloister: There well-pleasid,
Religious Hardships I will learn to bear,
To fast and freeze at midnight Hours of Pray'r :
Nor think iti hard within a lonely Cell,
With melancholy speechless Saints to dwell;
But bless the Day I to that Refuge ran,

(Rów. Fair Penis Free from the Marriage-Chain, and from that Tyrant, Man.

O A K. See Fighting 'at Sea, Trees.
The Monarch Oak, the Patriarch of Trees,
Shoots rising up, and spreads by flow Degrees:
Three Centuries he grows, and Three he stays,
Supreme in State; and in Three more decays.

Dryd. Ovid.
i Jove's own Tree,
That holds the Woods in awful Sov'raignty,
Requires a Depth of Lodging in the Ground,
Ahd, next the lower Şkies, a Bed profound:
High as his topmost Boughs to Heav'n afcend,
So low his Roots to Hell's Dominion cend :
Therefore nor Winds, nor Winter's Rage 'o'erthrows
His bulky Body, bụt unmov'd he grows :
For length of Ages lafts his happy Reign,
And Lives of mortal Man contend with his in vain.
Full in the Midst of his own Strength he stands,
Stretching his brawny Arms and leafy Hands, Dryd. Virg.
His Shade protects the Plains, bis Head the Hills commands.

As a call Oak, chat young and verdant stood
Above the Grove, it self a nobler Wood:
His wide extended Limbs the Forest drown'd,
Shading its Trees, as much as they 'the Ground.
Young murm'ring Tempefts in his Boughs are bred,
And gath'ring Clouds frown round his lofty Head':
Outragious Thunder, stormy Winds, and Rain
Discharge their

Fury on bis Head in vain :
Earthquakes below, and Lightning from above
Rond not his Trunk, nor his fix'd Root remove.



But then his Strength worn by deftru&tive Age,
He can no more his angry Foes engage :
He spreads to Heav'n his

naked wither'd Arms,
As Aid imploring from invading Harms:
From his dishonour'd Head the lightest Storm
Can tear his Beauties, and his Limbs deform;
He rocks with ev'ry Wind, while on the Ground
Dry Leaves and broken Arms lie scatter'd round.

Ás when the Winds their airy-Quarrel try,
Justling from ev'ry Quarter of the Sky,
This way and that the Mountain Oak they bend;
His Boughs they shatter, and his Branches rend:
With Leaves and falling Mast they spread the Ground,
The hollow Valleys echo to the Sound:
Unmov'd, the royal Plant their Fury mocks,
Or shaken, clings more closely to the Rocks.
For as he shoots his tow'ring Head on high,
So deep in Earth his fix'd Foundations lie.

Dryd. Virg.
Thus Two tall Oaks, that Padus Banks adorn,
Lift up to Heav'n their leafy Heads unlhorn,
And over-press'd with Nature's heavy Load,
Dance to the whistling Winds, and at each other nod. Drid.Virg.

As the stout Oak, when round his Trunk che Vine
Does in soft Wreaths and am'rous Foldings twine,
Easy and flight appears: The Winds from far
Summon their noily Forces to the War :"
Buc cho' so gentle feems his outward Form,
His hidden Strength out-braves the loadeft Storm ;
Firmer he stands, and boldly keeps the Field;
Showing stout Minds when unprovok'd-are mild.

So when a noble Oak, that long has stood
High in the Air, the Beauty of the Wood,
Is hock'd by Stormy Winds, he either Way
Bends to the Earth his Head with mighty Sway.
His lab'ring Roots disturb the neighb ring Ground,
And make a heaving Earthquake a]l'around;
Yet faft he stands, and the loud Storm defies,
His Roots still keep the Earth, his Head the Skies. Bist.

Oaths are but Words, and Words but Wind;
Too feeble Implements to bind:
And Saints, whom Oaths or Vows oblige,
Know little of their Privilege.
For, if the Devil, to serve his Turn,
Can tell Truth, why the Saints fhould fcorn,


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When it serves theirs, to swear and lie,
I think there's little Reason why.

We're not commanded to forbare
Indefinitely at all to swear ;
But to swear idly and in vain,
Without Self-Interest or Gain :
For breaking of an Oath, and Lying,
Js but a kind of Self-denying.

Oaths were not purpos’d more than Law,
To keep the Just and Good in awe;
But to confine the Bad and Sinful,
Like moral Cattle in a Pinfold.

If Oaths can do a Man no Good
In his own Bus'ness, why they should
In other Matters do him

I think there's little Reason for’t.

He that imposes an Oath, makes it,
Not he chat for Convenience takes it :
Then how can any Man be said,
To break an Oath he never made.

So fullenly addicted still
To's only Principle, his Will;
That whatsoe'er it chanc'd to prove,
No Force of Argument could move :
Nor Law, nor Gavalcade of Holborn,
Could render half a Grain less stubborn:
For he at any time would hang,
For th'Opportunity charangue;
And rather on a Gibbec dangle,
Than miss his dear Delight, to wrangle :
In which his Parts were so accomplish'd,
That right or wrong, he ne'er was non-plus d.
But still his Tongue ran on, the less
Of Weight it bore, with greater Ease ;
And with its everlasting Clack,
Set all Mens Ears upon the Rack :
No sooner could a Hint appear,
But up he started to pickeer;
And made the stouteft yield to Mercy,
When he engag'd in Controversy:
Not by the Force of Carnal Reason,
But indefatigable Teazing;
With Volleys of eternal Babble,
And Clamour more unanswerable :
For tho' his Topicks, frail and weak,
Could ne'er amount above a Freak,

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