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Here orange trees with blooms and pendants shine,
Still turns her beauties from the invading beam,
WHILE Celia's tears make sorrow bright,
These silver drops, like morning dew,
The stars that fall from Celia's eye,
The baby in that sunny sphere.
That heaven, the threaten'd world to spare,
EARL OF ROCHESTER.
SILENCE! 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 sway, ere heav'n was formed, or earth:
Ere fruitful thought conceived creation's birth, Or midwife word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth. The various elements against thee join'd
In one more various animal combined,
And framed the clamorous race of busy human-kind.` The tongue moved gently first and speech was low, Till wrangling 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! Yet thy indulgence is by both confess'd; 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;
Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame. But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are
How church and state should be obliged to thee; At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou be
Yet speech e'en there submissively withdraws, From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause; Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy laws.
Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,
What favourites 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 of the gown, Are best by thee express'd; and shine in thee alone. The parson's cant, the lawyer's sophistry, Lord's quibble, critic's jest, all end in thee, All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally.
EARL OF DORSET.
THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke;
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,
That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
All white and black beside:
And masculine her stride.
So have I seen, in black and white,
A stately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
PHRYNE had talents for mankind,
Her learning and good-breeding such,
'Twas 'Si Signor,' 'twas 'Yaw Mynheer,'
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
So have I known those insects fair
Still gain new titles with new forms;
THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.
PARSON, these things in thy possessing,
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
A Chrysostom to smooth-thy band in;
Toast church and queen, explain the news,
AN ESSAY ON MAN,
IN FOUR EPISTLES
TO HENRY ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE.
HAVING proposed to write some pieces on human life and manners, such as (to use my lord Bacon's expression) 'come home to men's business and bosoms,' I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering man in the abstract, his nature, and his state; since, to prove any moral duty, to enforce any