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Exceed their promise in the ripen'd store,
Yet in the rising blossom promise more.
There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play,
By Laurels Thielded from the piercing day :
Where Daphne, now a tree as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Nor seeks in vain for succour to the Stream. 26
The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves,
At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
And Winter's Coolness spite of Summers rays. 30

W E E P I N G.


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HILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright,

Proud Grief sits swelling in her eyes ;
The Sun, next those the fairest light,

Thus from the Ocean first did rise :
And thus thro’ Mists we see the Sun,

5 Which else we durst not gaze upon.

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These silver drops, like morning dew,

Foretell the fervour of the day :
So from one Cloud soft show'rs we view,

And blasting lightnings burst away:
The Stars that fall from Celia's

Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.


The Baby in that sunny Sphere

So like a Phaëton appears,
That Heav'n, the threaten’d World to spare, 15

Thought fit to drown him in her tears :
Else might th’ambitious Nymph aspire,
To set, like him, Heav'n too on fire.





ILENCE! coeval with Eternity;

Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be, 'Twas one vast Nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee.

Thine was the fway, ere heav'n was form’d,

or earth, Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth, Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.

Then various elements, againft thee join'd,

In one more various animal combin'd,
And fram'd the clam'rous race of busy Human-



The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was

low, ”Tillwrangling Science taught it noise and show, And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.


But rebel Wit deserts thee oft' in vain;

Lost in the maze of words he turns again, And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign.


Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free,

Oppress’d with argumental tyranny, And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee.


With thee in private modest Dulness lies,

And in thy bosom lurks in Thought's disguise; Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wise!


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Yet thy indulgence is by both confest

Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, And ’tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest,


Silence the knave's repute, the whore's good

name, The only honour of the wishing dame ; The very want of tongue makes thee a kind of


X. But could'st thou seize some tongues that now

are free, How Church and State should be oblig'd to thee? At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome would'st

thou be?

XI. Yet speech ev’n there, submissively withdraws,

From rights of subjects, and the poor man's caufe: Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the

noisy Laws.

Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,

What Fav’rites gain, and what the Nation owes, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.

The country wit, religion of the town,

The courtier's learning, policy o'th' gown,
Are best by thee express’d; and shine in thee alone.

The parson's cànt, the lawyer's sophistry,

Lord's quibble, critic's jest; all end in thee, All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally.

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