EARL OF ROCHESTER.

ON SILENCE.

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 free,

How church and state should be obliged to thee; At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou bel 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.

ARTEMISIA.

THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
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 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)
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.

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

Majestically stalk;

A stately, worthless animal,

That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
All flutter, pride, and talk.

PHRYNE.

PHRYNE had talents for mankind,
Open she was, and unconfined,

Like some free port of trade;
Merchants unloaded here their freight,
And agents from each foreign state,
Here first their entry made.
Her learning and good-breeding such,
Whether the Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniards or French came to her;
To all obliging she'd appear:
'Twas 'Si Signor,' 'twas 'Yaw Mynheer,'
'Twas 'S'il vous plait, Monsieur.'
Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
Still changing names, religion, climes,
At length she turns a bride:
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades,
And flutters in her pride.

So have I known those insects fair
(Which curious Germans hold so rare)
Still vary shapes and dyes;
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms.
Then painted butterflies.

DR. SWIFT.

THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.

PARSON, these things in thy possessing,
Are better than the bishop's blessing:

A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need;
October store, and best Virginia,
Tithe pig, and mortuary guinea;
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd;
A large Concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince;
A Chronicle of ancient standing;
A Chrysostom to smooth-thy band in;
The Polyglott-three parts-my text,
Howbeit,-likewise now to my next:
Lo, here the Septuagint, and Paul,
To sum the whole, -the close of all.

He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
And fast on Fridays if he will;
Toast church and queen, explain the news,
Talk with church-wardens about pews;

Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at Dr. Sw**

AN ESSAY ON ΜΑΝ,

IN FOUR EPISTLES

TO HENRY ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE.

THE DESIGN.

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 moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being.

The science of human nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world. It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind as in that of the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our observation. The disputes are all upon these last; and I will venture to say, they have less sharpened the wits than the hearts of men against each other, and have diminished the practice more than advanced the theory of morality. If I could flatter myself that this Essay has any merit, it is in steering betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a temperate, yet not inconsistent, and a short, yet not imperfect, system of ethics.*

This I might have done in prose; but I chose verse, and even rhyme, for two reasons. The one will appear obvious; that principles, maxims, or precepts, so written, both strike the reader more strongly at first, and are more easily retained by him afterwards; the other may seem odd, but it is true: I found I could express them more shortly this way than in prose itself; and nothing is more certain, than that much of the force, as well as the grace of arguments or instructions, depends on their conciseness. I was unable to treat this part of my subject more in detail, without becoming dry and tedious; or more poetically, without sacrificing perspicuity to ornament, without wandering from the precision, or breaking the chain of reasoning: if any man can unite all