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W Ε Ε Ρ Ι. Ν

E G.

WHILE 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, Which else we durft not gaze upon.


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 eye,
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,

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





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ILENCE! coeval with Eternity;

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

II. Thine was the fway, ere heay'n was form’d, or earth,

Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth, 5 Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.

Then various elements, against thee join'd,

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

The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low,

?Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show, 11 And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.

But rebel Wit deserts thee oft' in vain;

Loft in the maze of words he turns again,
And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign. 15

Amicted Sense thou kindly doft fet free,

Opprefs’d with argumental tyranny,
And routed Reason finds a safe retreaé in thee.


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With thee in private modest Dulness lies,

And in thy bosom lurks in Thought's disguise ; 20. Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat-of all the Wise !

Yet thy indulgence is by both confeft;

Folly by thee lies fleeping in the breast,
And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for reft.

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

The only honour of the wishing dame;" 26 Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of Fame.

.. .

X. But could'st thou seize fome tongues that now are

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

Yet speech ev’n there, fübinillively withdraws,

From rights of fubjects, and the poor mati's'cause': Then pompous Silence reigns, and Itiflš the noily Laws,'

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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 expressid ; and shine in thee alone.

The parson's cant, the lawyer's fophiffry,

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

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THO' Artemisia talks, by fits,

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A R T E M I S I A.

Of councils, classics, fathers, wits ;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke :
Yet in some things methinks she fails,
'Twere well if she would pare her nails,

And wear a cleaner smock.
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Such nastiness, and so much pride

Are oddly join'd by fate:
On her large fquab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;

All white and black beside :
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her stride.



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So have I seen, in black and white
A prating thing, a Magpye hight,

Majestically stalk;
A ftately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,

All flutter, pride, and talk.

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