Imatges de pÓgina


Some folitary Cloister will I chufe,
And there with holy Virgins live immurd :
Coarse my Arcire, and short shall be my Sleep,
Btoke by the melancholy midnight Belt :
There hoard up ev'ry Moment of my Life,
To lengthen our the Payment of my Tears.
Fasting, 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 dié, for she has griv'd enough. Drojd. Spån. Fr.

Oh shut me in a Cloister : There well pleasa,
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,

(Row. Fair Peng Free from the Marriage-Chain, and from thạc Tyrant, Man.

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

Dryd. Ovid.
Ć 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 topmoft Bouglis 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, but unmov'd he grows :
For length of Ages lasts 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, that 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
Yoang 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
Rend not his Trunk, nor his fix'd Root removes



But then his Strength worn by destructive 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 fcatter'd round. Ble.

As 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 Maft 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,

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 noisy Forces to the War:
Buc tho' so gentle feems his outward Form,
His hidden Strength out-braves the loudeft 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 Thock'd by Stormy Winds, he either Way
Bends to the Earth his Head with mighty Sway.
His lab’ring Roots difturb the neighb'ring Ground,
And make a heaving Earthquake all'around;
Yet fast he stands, and the loud Storm defies;
His Roots still keep the Earth, his Head the Skies. Bist:

Lift up


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,
Çan tell Truth's why the Saints should scorn,

When Hud






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 Oach, and Lying,
Is 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 Hurt..
I think there's little Reason for't.

He that imposes an Oath, makes it,
Not he that for Convenience takes it :
Then how can any Man 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 Forge of Argument could move :
Nor Law, nor Cavalcade of Holborn,
Could render half a Grain less stubborn:
For he at any time would hang,
For th'Opportunity c'harangue;
And rather on a Gibbet 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 ftouteft 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,

He still maintain'd'em, like his Faults,
Against the defperat's Affaults ;
And back'd their feeble want of Sense
With greater Heat and Confidence :
As Bones of Hectors, when they differ,
The more they're cudgeld, grow the itiffer. Hud.

He still resolv'd, to merd the Matter,
T'adhere and cleave the obstinater :
And still the skittisher and loofer
His Freaks appear'd, to fit the closer.

For Fools are stubborn in their Way,
As Coins are hardend by th'Allay :
And Obstinacy's ne'er so stiff,
As when 'tis in a wrong Belief.

OEDIPUS tearing out his Eyes.

Thrice he truck
With all his Force his hollow groaning Breaft,
And thus with Outcries to himself complain'd;
But thou canst weep then ? and thou think'st 'cis well!
These Bubbles of the shallow'st emptiest Sorrow,
Which Children vent for Toys, and Women rain
For any Trifle their fond Hearts are set on :
Yet these, thou think'ft, are ample Satisfaétion
For bloodieft Murther and for burning Luft!
No Parricide! if thou must weep, weep Blood,
Weep Eyes inftead of Tears! 0, by the Gods!
'Tis greatly thought, he cries, and fits my Woes:

that he smild revengefully, and leap'd
Upon the Floor ; thence gazing on the Skies,
His Eye-balls fiery red, and glowing Vengeance ;
Gods! I accuse you not, tho' I no more
Will view your Heav'n, till with more durable Glasses,
The mighty Soul's immortal Perspectives,
I find your dazling Beings. Take, he cry'd,
Take, Eyes, your last, your fatal farewell View :
Then with a Groan that seem'd the Call of Death,
With horrid Force lifcing his impious Hands,
He snatch'd, he core from out their bloody Orbs
The Balls of Sight, and dah'd 'em on the Ground. Lec Oidip.

OLD AGE. See Death, Dying of Old Age, Youtb.

Some few, by Temp'rance taught, approaching Now
To diftant Fate, by easy Journeys go.
Gently they lay them down, as Ev'ning Sheep
On their own woolly Fleeces softly sleep.
So noiseless would I live, such Death to find ;
Like timely Fruit, not shaken by the Wind,

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But ripely dropping from the sapless Bough,
And dying, nothing to my self would owe.
Thus daily changing, with a duller Taste
Of less'ning Joys, I by Degrees would waste.
Still quitting Ground by unperceiv'd Decay,
And steal my self from Life, and melt away. Dryd. State of Inn,

How happy is the ev'ning Tide of Life!
When Phlegm bas quench'd our Passions ; trilling out
The feeble Remnant of our filly Days
In Follies, such as Dotage beft is pleas'd with :
Free from the wounding and tormenting Cares
That toss the thoughtful, active, bufy Mind ! Otw. Gai, Mari

The Soul, with nobler Resolutions deck'd,
The Body stooping, does her self erect.
Clouds of Affections from our younger Eyes,
Conceal that Happiness which Age descries.
The Soul's dark Cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new Light chro’ Chinks that Time has made.
Stronger by Weakness, wifer Men become,
As they draw near to their eternal Home.
Leaving the old, both Worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the Threshold of che new.

We yet may see the old Man in a Morning,
Lusty as Health, come ruddy to the Field,
And there pursue the Chace, as if he meant
To o'erta ke Time, and bring back Youth again: Otw. Orph.

As in a green old Age his Hair jul griefled. Dryd. Oedip. While

yet few Furrows on my Face are feen, While I walk upright, and old Age is green, And Lachesis has somewhat left to spin.

Dryd. Juv.

Inconveniencies of Old Age.
Jove! grant me Length of Life, and Years good Store
Heap on my bending Back, I ask no more :
Both Sick and Healthful, Old and Young, conspire
In this one filly mischievous Desire.
Mistaken Blessing, which Old Age they call!
'Tis a long, nafty, darksom Hofpital!
A ropy Chain of Rheums! a Visage rough,
Deform'd, unfeatur'd, and a Skin of Buff.
A stitch-fall'n Cheek that hangs below the Jaw,
Such Wrinkles as a skilful Hand would draw
For an old grandame Ape, when with a Grace
She sits at squat, and scrubs her leathern Face.
In Youth Distinctions infinite abound :
No Shape, no Feature juft alike is found:




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