Page images

And vary'd Tulips fhow fo dazling gay,

Blushing in bright diverfities of day.

Each painted flowret in the lake below
Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narciffus on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compofe,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;
There the green Infants in their beds are laid,
The Garden's Hope, and its expected fhade.
Here Orange trees with blooms and pendants shine,
And vernal honours to their autumn join;
Exceed their promife in their ripen'd store,
Yet in the rifing bloffom promise more.

There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play,
By Laurels fhielded 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 feeks in vain for fuccour to the stream,
The stream at once preferves 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 Summer's rays.









HILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright,
Proud grief fits fwelling in her eyes :
The Sun, next those the fairest light,

Thus from the Ocean firft did rife:
And thus thro' Mifts we fee the Sun,
Which else we durft not gaze upon.

These filver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day:

So from one cloud foft fhowers we view,
And blafting lightnings burst away.

The ftars that fall from Celia's eye,
Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.



The Baby in that funny Sphere

So like a Phaeton appears,

That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to spare,
Thought fit to drown him in her Tears:


Elfe might th' ambitious Nymph afpire,
To fet, like him, Heaven too on fire.

[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]




SILENCE! coeval with Eternity;

Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be, 'Twas one vaft Nothing, all, and all flept faft in thee. II.

Thine was the fway, ere heaven was form'd, or earth, Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth, Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth. III.

Then various elements, against thee join'd,

In one more various animal combin'd,

And fram'd the clamorous race of bufy Human-kind. IV.

The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low, Till wrangling Science taught it noise and fhow, And wicked Wit arose, thy moft abusive foe.


But rebel Wit deserts thee oft in vain;

Loft in the maze of Words he turns again,

And feeks a furer ftate, and courts thy gentle reign.


Afflicted Senfe thou kindly doft fet free,
Opprefs'd with argumental tyranny,

And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee.


With thee in private modeft Dulness lies,

And in thy bofom lurks in Thought's disguise; Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wife! VIII.

Yet thy indulgence is by both confeft;

Folly by thee lies fleeping in the breaft,

And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom feeks for rest.


Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name, The only honour of the wishing dame;

Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of Fame.


But couldst thou feize fome tongues that now are free, How Church and State should be oblig'd to thee! At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome wouldst thou be! XI.

Yet speech ev'n there, fubmiffively withdraws,

From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause: Then pompous Silence reigns, and ftills the noisy Laws. XII.

Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,

What Favourites gain, and what the Nation owes, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repofe. XIII.

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 parfon's cant, the lawyer's fophiftry,
Lord's quibble, critic's jeft; all end in thee,
All reft in peace at last, and fleep eternally.





HOUGH Artemifia talks, by fits,
Of councils, claffics, fathers, wits;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke:
Yet in fome things methinks fhe fails,
'Twere well if she would pair her nails,
And wear a cleaner fmock.

Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Such naftiness, and fo much pride,

Are oddly join'd by fate:

On her large fquab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpfe upon a bed,

That lies and ftinks in ftate.

She wears no colours (fign of grace) any part except her face;


All white and black befide:

Dauntless her look, her gefture proud,

Her voice theatrically loud,

And mafculine her ftride.

So have I feen, in black and white
A prating thing, a Magpye hight,
Majestically stalk;

A stately, worthless animal,

That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,

All flutter, pride, and talk.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]


« EelmineJätka »