IV.

COWLEY.

The GARDEN.

AIN would my Mufe the flow'ry Treafures fing, And humble glories of the youthful Spring; Where opening Roses breathing sweets diffuse, And foft Carnations show'r their balmy dews; Where Lilies fmile in virgin robes of white, The thin undress of fuperficial Light, And vary'd Tulips fhow fo dazling gay, Blufhing in bright diverfities of day. Each painted flouret 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 compose, And mount the hill in venerable rows; There the green Infants in their beds are laid, The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade. Here Orange-trees with blooms and pendants fhine, And vernal honours to their autumn join ; Exceed their promise in the 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 :

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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 ftream,
The ftream at once preferves her virgin leaves,
At once a fhelter from her boughs receives,
Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
And Winter's Coolmefs spite of Summer's rays. 30

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WEEPING.

WHILE Celia's 'Tears make forrow bright,

grief fits swelling in her eyes;

The Sun, next those the fairest light,
Thus from the Ocean first 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 fhow'rs we view,
And blafting lightnings burft away.
The Stars 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 fpare,
Thought fit to drown him in her Tears :
Elfe might th' ambitious Nymph afpire,
To fet, like him, Heav'n too on fire.

V.

E. of ROCHESTER.

On SILENCE,

I.

ILENCE! coeval with

Thou wert, ere Nature's felf began to be,

'Twas one vaft Nothing, all, and all flept faft in thee.

II.

Thine was the sway, 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.

III.

Then various elements, against thee join'd,
In one more various animal combin'd,

And fram'd the clam'rous race of bufy Human-kind.

IV.

The tongue mov'd gently firft, and speech was low, 'Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show, And wicked Wit arofe, thy moft abufive foe,

WEEPING.

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 first 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 fhow'rs we view,
And blafting lightnings burft away.
The Stars 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 fpare,
Thought fit to drown him in her Tears:
Elfe might th' ambitious Nymph aspire,
To fet, like him, Heav'n too on fire.

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