Poems on several occasions: Written by Dr. Thomas Parnell, ... and published by Mr. Pope.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- TO THE Right Honourable, ROBERT, Earl of OXFORD AND Earl MORTIMER.

- [poems]

- HESIOD: OR, THE Rise of WOMAN. HESIOD: OR, THE Rise of WOMAN.

- SONG.

- A SONG.

- SONG.

- ANACREONTICK.

- ANACREONTICK.

- FAIRY TALE IN THE Ancient ENGLISH Style.

- PERVIGILIUM VENERIS.

- THE VIGIL of VENUS.

- HOMER's BATRACHOMUOMACHIA: OR, THE BATTEL OF THE FROGS and MICE.

- HOMER's BATTEL of the FROGS, &c. BOOK I.

- HOMER's BATTEL of the FROGS, &c. BOOK II.

- HOMER's BATTEL of the: FROGS, &c. BOOK III.

- To Mr. POPE.

- Part of the first Canto of the Rape of the Lock.

- A TRANSLATION of part of the first Canto of the Rape of the Lock, in to Leonine Verse, after the manner of the ancient Monks.

- HEALTH, an ECLOGUE.

- The FLIES. An ECLOGUE.

- AN ELEGY, To an Old BEAUTY.

- The BOOK-WORM.

- An ALLEGORY on MAN.

- An Imitation of some FRENCH Verses.

- A NIGHT-PIECE on DEATH.

- A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.

- The HERMIT.

- VISIONS, Publish'd in the SPECTATORS, &c.

- VISION I. SPECTATOR. No. 460.

- VISION II. SPECTATOR. No. 501.

- VISION III. GUARDIAN. No. 56.

- VISION IV. GUARDIAN. No. 66.

- VISION V.

- ERRATA, In Pervigilio Veneris.

- INDEX.

- BOOKS printed for BERNARD LINTOT.

POEMS ON Several Occasions.

Written by Dr. THOMAS PARNELL, Late Arch-Deacon of Clogher: AND Published by Mr. POPE.

Dignum laude Virum Musa vetat mori.
HOR.

LONDON: Printed for B. LINTOT, at the Cross-Keys, between the Temple Gates in Fleet-street, 1722.

TO THE Right Honourable, ROBERT, Earl of OXFORD AND Earl MORTIMER.

SUCH were the Notes, thy once-lov'd Poet sung,

'Till Death untimely stop'd his tuneful Tongue.

Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mourn'd!

With softest Manners, gentlest Arts, adorn'd!

Blest in each Science, blest in ev'ry Strain!

Dear to the Muse, to HARLEY dear—in vain!

For him, thou oft hast bid the World attend,

Fond to forget the Statesman in the Friend;

For Swift and him, despis'd the Farce of State,

The sober Follies of the Wise and Great;

Dextrous, the craving, fawning Crowd to quit,

And pleas'd to 'scape from Flattery to Wit.

Absent or dead, still let a Friend be dear,

(A Sigh the Absent claims, the Dead a Tear)

Recall those Nights that clos'd thy toilsom Days,

Still hear thy Parnell in his living Lays:

Who careless, now, of Int'rest, Fame, or Fate,

Perhaps forgets that OXFORD e'er was Great;

Or deeming meanest what we greatest call,

Beholds thee glorious only in thy Fall.

And sure if ought below the Seats Divine

Can touch Immortals, 'tis a Soul like thine:

A Soul supreme, in each hard Instance try'd,

Above all Pain, all Anger, and all Pride,

The Rage of Pow'r, the Blast of publick Breath,

The Lust of Lucre, and the Dread of Death.

In vain to Desarts thy Retreat is made;

The Muse attends thee to the silent Shade:

'Tis hers, the brave Man's latest Steps to trace,

Re-judge his Acts, and dignify Disgrace.

When Int'rest calls off all her sneaking Train,

When all th' Oblig'd desert, and all the Vain;

She waits, or to the Scaffold, or the Cell,

When the last ling'ring Friend has bid farewel.

Ev'n now she shades thy Evening Walk with Bays,

(No Hireling she, no Prostitute to Praise)

Ev'n now, observant of the parting Ray,

Eyes the calm Sun-set of thy Various Day,

Thro' Fortune's Cloud One truly Great can see,

Nor fears to tell, that MORTIMER is He.

A. POPE.
Sept. 25. 1721.

HESIOD: OR, THE Rise of WOMAN.
HESIOD: OR, THE Rise of WOMAN.

WHAT antient Times (those Times we fancy wise)

Have left on long Record of Woman's Rise,

What Morals teach it, and what Fables hide,

What Author wrote it, how that Author dy'd,

All these I sing. In Greece they fram'd the Tale

(In Greece, 'twas thought, a Woman might be frail)

Ye modern Beauties! where the Poet drew

His softest Pencil, think he dreamt of you;

And warn'd by him, ye wanton Pens, beware

How Heav'n's concern'd to vindicate the Fair.

The Case was Hesiod's; he the Fable writ;

Some think with Meaning, some with idle Wit:

Perhaps 'tis either, as the Ladies please;

I wave the Contest, and commence the Lays.

In days of yore, (no matter where or when,

'Twas e're the low Creation swarm'd with Men)

That one Prometheus, sprung of heav'nly Birth,

(Our Author's Song can witness) liv'd on Earth.

He carv'd the Turf to mold a manly Frame,

And stole from Jove his animating Flame.

The sly Contrivance o'er Olympus ran,

When thus the Monarch of the Stars began.

Oh vers'd in Arts! whose daring Thoughts aspire

To kindle Clay with never-dying Fire!

Enjoy thy Glory past, That Gift was thine;

The next thy Creature meets, be fairly mine:

And such a Gift, a Vengeance so design'd,

As suits the Counsel of a God to find;

A pleasing Bosom-cheat, a specious Ill,

Which felt they curse, yet covet still to feel.

He said, and Vulcan strait the Sire commands,

To temper Mortar with etherial Hands;

In such a Shape to mold a rising Fair,

As Virgin-goddesses are proud to wear;

To make her Eyes with Diamond-water shine,

And form her Organs for a Voice divine.

'Twas thus the Sire ordain'd; the Pow'r obey'd;

And work'd, and wonder'd at the Work he made;

The fairest, softest, sweetest Frame beneath,

Now made to seem, now more than seem, to breathe.

As Vulcan ends, the chearful Queen of Charms

Clasp'd the new-panting Creature in her Arms;

From that Embrace a fine Complexion spread,

Where mingled Whiteness glow'd with softer red.

Then in a Kiss she breath'd her various Arts,

Of trifling prettily with wounded Hearts;

A Mind for Love, but still a changing Mind;

The Lisp affected, and the Glance design'd;

The sweet confusing Blush, the secret Wink,

The gentle-swimming Walk, the courteous Sink,

The Stare for Strangeness fit, for Scorn the Frown,

For decent yielding Looks declining down,

The practis'd Languish, where well-feign'd Desire

Wou'd own its melting in a mutual Fire;

Gay Smiles to comfort; April Show'rs to move;

And all the Nature, all the Art, of Love.

Gold-scepter'd Juno next exalts the Fair;

Her Touch endows her with imperious Air,

Self-valuing Fancy, highly-crested Pride,

Strong sov'reign Will, and some Desire to chide:

For which, an Eloquence, that aims to vex,

With native Tropes of Anger, arms the Sex.

Minerva (skillful Goddess) train'd the Maid

To twirl the Spindle by the twisting Thread,

To fix the Loom, instruct the Reeds to part,

Cross the long Weft, and close the Web with Art,

An useful Gift; but what profuse Expence,

What world of Fashions, took its Rise from hence!

Young Hermes next, a close-contriving God,

Her Brows encircled with his Serpent Rod:

Then Plots and fair Excuses, fill'd her Brain,

The Views of breaking am'rous Vows for Gain,

The Price of Favours; the designing Arts

That aim at Riches in Contempt of Hearts;

And for a Comfort in the Marriage Life,

The little, pilf'ring Temper of a Wife.

Full on the Fair his Beams Apollo flung,

And fond Persuasion tip'd her easy Tongue;

He gave her Words, where oyly Flatt'ry lays

The pleasing Colours of the Art of Praise;

And Wit, to Scandal exquisitely prone,

Which frets another's Spleen to cure its own.

Those sacred Virgins whom the Bards revere,

Tun'd all her Voice, and shed a Sweetness there,

To make her Sense with double Charms abound,

Or make her lively Nonsense please by Sound.

To dress the Maid, the decent Graces brought

A Robe in all the Dies of Beauty wrought,

And plac'd their Boxes o'er a rich Brocade

Where pictur'd Loves on ev'ry cover plaid;

Then spread those Implements that Vulcan's Art

Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's Heart;

The Wire to curl, the close-indented Comb

To call the Locks that lightly wander, home;

And chief, the Mirrour, where the ravish'd Maid

Beholds and loves her own reflected Shade.

Fair Flora lent her Stores, the purpled Hours

Confin'd her Tresses with a Wreath of Flow'rs;

Within the Wreath arose a radiant Crown;

A Veil pellucid hung depending down;

Back roll'd her azure Veil with Serpent fold,

The purfled Border deck'd the Floor with Gold.

Her Robe (which closely by the Girdle brac't

Reveal'd the Beauties of a slender Waste)

Flow'd to the Feet; to copy Venus Air,

When Venus's Statues have a Robe to wear.

The new sprung Creature finish'd thus for Harms,

Adjusts her Habit, practises her Charms;

With Blushes glows, or shines with lively Smiles,

Confirms her Will, or recollects her Wiles:

Then conscious of her Worth, with easy Pace

Glides by the Glass, and turning views her Face.

A finer Flax than what they wrought before,

Thro' Time's deep Cave the Sister Fates explore,

Then fix the Loom, their Fingers nimbly weave,

And thus their Toil prophetick Songs deceive.

Flow from the Rock my Flax! and swiftly flow,

Pursue thy Thread; the Spindle runs below.

A Creature fond and changing, fair and vain,

The Creature Woman, rises now to reign.

New Beauty blooms, a Beauty form'd to fly;

New Love begins, a Love produc'd to dye;

New Parts distress the troubled Scenes of Life,

The fondling Mistress, and the ruling Wife.

Men, born to Labour, all with Pains provide;

Women have Time, to sacrifice to Pride:

They want the Care of Man, their Want they know,

And dress to please with heart-alluring Show,

The Show prevailing, for the Sway contend,

And make a Servant where they meet a Friend.

Thus in a thousand wax-erected Forts

A loytering Race the painful Bee supports,

From Sun to Sun, from Bank to Bank he flies,

With Honey loads his Bag, with Wax his Thighs,

Fly where he will, at home the Race remain,

Prune the silk Dress, and murm'ring eat the Gain.

Yet here and there we grant a gentle Bride,

Whose Temper betters by the Father's side;

Unlike the rest that double humane Care,

Fond to relieve, or resolute to share:

Happy the Man whom thus his Stars advance!

The Curse is gen'ral, but the Blessing Chance.

Thus sung the Sisters, while the Gods admire

Their beauteous Creature, made for Man in Ire;

The young Pandora she, whom all contend

To make too perfect not to gain her End:

Then bid the Winds that fly to breath the Spring,

Return to bear her on a gentle Wing;

With wafting Airs the Winds obsequious blow,

And land the shining Vengeance safe below.

A golden Coffer in her Hand she bore,

(The Present treach'rous, but the Bearer more)

'Twas fraught with Pangs; for Jove ordain'd above,

That Gold shou'd aid, and Pangs attend on Love.

Her gay Descent the Man perceiv'd afar,

Wond'ring he run to catch the falling Star;

But so surpriz'd, as none but he can tell,

Who lov'd so quickly, and who lov'd so well.

O'er all his Veins the wand'ring Passion burns,

He calls her Nymph, and ev'ry Nymph by turns.

Her Form to lovely Venus he prefers,

Or swears that Venus must be such as hers.

She, proud to rule, yet strangely fram'd to teize,

Neglects his Offers while her Airs she plays,

Shoots scornful Glances from the bended Frown,

In brisk Disorder trips it up and down,

Then hums a careless Tune to lay the Storm,

And sits, and blushes, smiles, and yields, in Form.

"Now take what Jove design'd (she softly cry'd)

"This box thy Portion, and my self thy Bride:"

Fir'd with the Prospect of the double Charms,

He snatch'd the Box, and Bride, with eager Arms.

Unhappy Man! to whom so bright she shone,

The fatal Gift, her tempting self, unknown!

The Winds were silent, all the Waves asleep,

And Heav'n was trac'd upon the flatt'ring Deep;

But whilst he looks unmindful of a Storm,

And thinks the Water wears a stable Form,

What dreadful Din around his Ears shall rise!

What Frowns confuse his Picture of the Skies!

At first the Creature Man was fram'd alone,

Lord of himself, and all the World his own.

For him the Nymphs in green forsook the Woods,

For him the Nymphs in blue forsook the Floods,

In vain the Satyrs rage, the Tritons rave,

They bore him Heroes in the secret Cave.

No Care destroy'd, no sick Disorder prey'd,

No bending Age his sprightly Form decay'd,

No Wars were known, no Females heard to rage,

And Poets tell us, 'twas a golden Age.

When Woman came, those Ills the Box confin'd

Burst furious out, and poison'd all the Wind,

From Point to Point, from Pole to Pole they flew,

Spread as they went, and in the Progress grew:

The Nymphs regretting left the mortal Race,

And alt'ring Nature wore a sickly Face:

New Terms of Folly rose, new States of Care;

New Plagues, to suffer, and to please, the Fair!

The Days of whining, and of wild Intrigues,

Commenc'd, or finish'd, with the Breach of Leagues;

The mean Designs of well-dissembled Love;

The sordid Matches never joyn'd above;

Abroad, the Labour, and at home the Noise,

(Man's double Suff'rings for domestick Joys)

The Curse of Jealousy; Expence, and Strife;

Divorce, the publick Brand of shameful Life;

The Rival's Sword; the Qualm that takes the Fair;

Disdain for Passion, Passion in Despair—

These, and a thousand, yet unnam'd, we find;

Ah fear the thousand, yet unnam'd behind!

THUS on Parnassus tuneful Hesiod sung,

The Mountain echo'd, and the Valley rung,

The sacred Groves a fix'd Attention show,

The chrystal Helicon forbore to flow,

The Sky grew bright, and (if his Verse be true)

The Muses came to give the Laurel too.

But what avail'd the verdant Prize of Wit,

If Love swore Vengeance for the Tales he writ?

Ye fair offended, hear your Friend relate

What heavy Judgment prov'd the Writer's Fate,

Tho' when it happen'd, no Relation clears,

'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty Years.

Where, dark and silent, with a twisted Shade

The neighb'ring Woods a native Arbour made,

There oft a tender Pair for am'rous Play

Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd Hours away;

A Locrian Youth, the gentle Troilus he,

A fair Milesian, kind Evanthe she:

But swelling Nature in a fatal Hour

Betray'd the Secrets of the conscious Bow'r;

The dire Disgrace her Brothers count their own,

And track her Steps, to make its Author known.

It chanc'd one Evening, ('twas the Lover's Day)

Conceal'd in Brakes the jealous Kindred lay;

When Hesiod wand'ring, mus'd along the Plain,

And fix'd his Seat where Love had fix'd the Scene:

A strong Suspicion strait possest their Mind,

(For Poets ever were a gentle kind.)

But when Evanthe near the Passage stood,

Flung back a doubtful Look, and shot the Wood▪

"Now take, (at once they cry) thy due Reward,"

And urg'd with erring Rage, assault the Bard.

His Corps the Sea receiv'd. The Dolphins bore

('Twas all the Gods would do) the Corps to Shore.

Methinks I view the Dead with pitying Eyes,

And see the Dreams of antient Wisdom rise;

I see the Muses round the Body cry,

But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by;

He wheels his Arrow with insulting Hand,

And thus inscribes the Moral on the Sand.

"Here Hesiod lies: Ye future Bards, beware

"How far your Moral Tales incense the Fair:

"Unlov'd, unloving, 'twas his Fate to bleed;

"Without his Quiver Cupid caus'd the Deed:

"He judg'd this Turn of Malice justly due,

"And Hesiod dy'd for Joys he never knew.

SONG.

WHEN thy Beauty appears

In its Graces and Airs,

All bright as an Angel new dropt from the Sky;

At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my Fears,

So strangely you dazzle my Eye!

But when without Art,

Your kind Thoughts you impart,

When your Love runs in Blushes thro' ev'ry Vein;

When it darts from your Eyes, when it pants in your Heart,

Then I know you're a Woman again.

There's a Passion and Pride

In our Sex, (she reply'd,)

And thus (might I gratify both) I wou'd do:

Still an Angel appear to each Lover beside,

But still be a Woman to you.

A SONG.

THYRSIS, a young and am'rous Swain,

Saw two, the Beauties of the Plain;

Who both his Heart subdue:

Gay Caelia's Eyes were dazzling fair,

Sabina's easy Shape and Air

With softer Magick drew.

He haunts the Stream, he haunts the Grove,

Lives in a fond Romance of Love,

And seems for each to dye;

'Till each a little spiteful grown,

Sabina Caelia's Shape ran down,

And she Sabina's Eye.

Their Envy made the Shepherd find

Those Eyes, which Love cou'd only blind;

So set the Lover free:

No more he haunts the Grove or Stream,

Or with a True-love Knot and Name

Engraves a wounded Tree.

Ah Caelia! (sly Sabina cry'd)

Tho' neither love, we're both deny'd;

Now, to support the Sex's Pride,

Let either fix the Dart.

Poor Girl! (says Caelia) say no more;

For shou'd the Swain but one adore,

That Spite which broke his Chains before,

Wou'd break the other's Heart.

SONG.

MY days have been so wond'rous free,

The little Birds that fly

With careless ease from Tree to Tree,

Were but as bless'd as I.

Ask gliding Waters, if a Tear

Of mine encreas'd their Stream?

Or ask the flying Gales, if e'er

I lent one Sigh to them?

But now my former Days retire,

And I'm by Beauty caught,

The tender Chains of sweet Desire

Are fix't upon my Thought.

Ye Nightingales, ye twisting Pines!

Ye Swains that haunt the Grove!

Ye gentle Echoes, breezy Winds!

Ye close Retreats of Love!

With all of Nature, all of Art,

Assist the dear Design;

O teach a young, unpractic'd Heart,

To make my Nancy mine.

The very Thought of Change I hate,

As much as of Despair;

Nor ever covet to be great,

Unless it be for her.

'Tis true, the Passion in my Mind

Is mix'd with soft Distress;

Yet while the Fair I love is kind,

I cannot wish it Less.

ANACREONTICK.

WHEN Spring came on with fresh Delight,

To cheer the Soul, and charm the Sight,

While easy Breezes, softer Rain,

And warmer Suns salute the Plain;

'Twas then, in yonder Piny Grove,

That Nature went to meet with Love.

Green was her Robe, and green her Wreath,

Where-e'er she trod, 'twas green beneath;

Where-e'er she turn'd, the Pulses beat

With new recruits of Genial Heat;

And in her Train the Birds appear,

To match for all the coming Year.

Rais'd on a Bank, where Daizys grew,

And Vi'lets intermix'd a Blew,

She finds the Boy she went to find;

A thousand Pleasures wait behind,

Aside, a thousand Arrows lye,

But all unfeather'd wait to fly.

When they met, the Dame and Boy,

Dancing Graces, idle Joy,

Wanton Smiles, and airy Play,

Conspir'd to make the Scene be gay;

Love pair'd the Birds through all the Grove,

And Nature bid them sing to Love,

Sitting, hopping, flutt'ring, sing,

And pay their Tribute from the Wing,

To fledge the Shafts that idly lye,

And yet unfeather'd wait to fly.

'Tis thus, when Spring renews the Blood,

They meet in ev'ry trembling Wood,

And thrice they make the Plumes agree,

And ev'ry Dart they mount with three,

And ev'ry Dart can boast a Kind,

Which suits each proper turn of Mind.

From the tow'ring Eagle's Plume

The Gen'rous Hearts accept their Doom;

Shot by the Peacock's painted Eye

The vain and airy Lovers dye:

For careful Dames and frugal Men,

The Shafts are speckled by the Hen.

The Pyes and Parrots deck the Darts,

When Prattling wins the panting Hearts:

When from the Voice the Passions spring,

The warbling Finch affords a Wing:

Together, by the Sparrow stung,

Down fall the wanton and the young:

And fledg'd by Geese the Weapons fly,

When others love they know not why.

All this (as late I chanc'd to rove)

I learn'd in yonder waving Grove.

And see, says Love, (who call'd me near)

How much I deal with Nature here,

How both support a proper Part,

She gives the Feather, I the Dart:

Then cease for Souls averse to sigh,

If Nature cross ye, so do I;

My Weapon there unfeather'd flies,

And shakes and shuffles through the Skies.

But if the mutual Charms I find

By which she links you, Mind to Mind,

They wing my Shafts, I poize the Darts,

And strike from both, through both your Hearts.

ANACREONTICK.

GAY Bacchus liking Estcourt's Wine,

A noble Meal bespoke us;

And for the Guests that were to dine,

Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus.

The God near Cupid drew his Chair,

Near Comus, Jocus plac'd;

For Wine makes Love forget its Care,

And Mirth exalts a Feast.

The more to please the sprightly God,

Each sweet engaging Grace

Put on some Cloaths to come abroad,

And took a Waiter's Place.

Then Cupid nam'd at every Glass

A Lady of the Sky;

While Bacchus swore he'd drink the Lass,

And had it Bumper-high.

Far Comus tost his Brimmers o'cr,

And always got the most;

Jocus took care to fill him more,

When-e'er he mist the Toast.

They call'd, and drank at every touch;

He fill'd, and drank again;

And if the Gods can take too much,

'Tis said, they did so then.

Gay Bacchus little Cupid stung,

By reck'ning his Deceits;

And Cupid mock'd his stamm'ring Tongue,

With all his stagg'ring Gaits:

And Jocus droll'd on Comus' Ways,

And Tales without a Jest;

While Comus call'd his witty Plays

But Waggeries at best.

Such Talk soon set 'em all at odds;

And, had I Homer's Pen,

I'd sing ye, how they drunk like Gods,

And how they fought, like Men.

To part the Fray, the Graces fly,

Who make 'em soon agree;

Nay, had the Furies selves been nigh,

They still were three to three.

Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up,

And gave him back his Bow;

But kept some Darts to stir the Cup

Where Sack and Sugar flow.

Jocus took Comus' rosy Crown,

And gayly wore the Prize,

And thrice, in Mirth, he push'd him down,

As thrice he strove to rise.

Then Cupid sought the Myrtle Grove,

Where Venus did recline,

And Venus close embracing Love,

They joyn'd to rail at Wine.

And Comus loudly cursing Wit,

Roll'd off to some Retreat,

Where boon Companions gravely sit

In fat unweildy State.

Bacchus and Jocus, still behind,

For one fresh Glass prepare;

They kiss, and are exceeding kind,

And vow to be sincere.

But part in Time, whoever hear

This our instructive Song;

For tho' such Friendships may be dear,

They can't continue long.

FAIRY TALE IN THE Ancient ENGLISH Style.

IN Britain's Isle and Arthur's days,

When Midnight Faeries daunc'd the Maze,

Liv'd Edwin of the Green;

Edwin, I wis, a gentle Youth,

Endow'd with Courage, Sense and Truth,

Tho' badly Shap'd he been.

His Mountain Back mote well be said

To measure heigth against his Head,

And lift it self above:

Yet spite of all that Nature did

To make his uncouth Form forbid,

This Creature dar'd to love.

He felt the Charms of Edith's Eyes,

Nor wanted Hope to gain the Prize,

Cou'd Ladies look within;

But one Sir Topaz dress'd with Art,

And, if a Shape cou'd win a Heart,

He had a Shape to win.

Edwin (if right I read my Song)

With slighted Passion pac'd along

All in the Moony Light:

'Twas near an old enchaunted Court,

Where sportive Faeries made Resort

To revel out the Night.

His Heart was drear, his Hope was cross'd,

'Twas late, 'twas farr, the Path was lost

That reach'd the Neighbour-Town;

With weary Steps he quits the Shades,

Resolv'd the darkling Dome he treads,

And drops his Limbs adown.

But scant he lays him on the Floor,

When hollow Winds remove the Door,

A trembling rocks the Ground:

And (well I ween to count aright)

At once an hundred Tapers light

On all the Walls around.

Now sounding Tongues assail his Ear,

Now sounding Feet approachen near,

And now the Sounds encrease:

And from the Corner where he lay

He sees a Train profusely gay

Come pranckling o'er the Place.

But (trust me Gentles!) never yet

Was dight a Masquing half so neat,

Or half so rich before;

The Country lent the sweet Perfumes,

The Sea the Pearl, the Sky the Plumes,

The Town its silken Store.

Now whilst he gaz'd, a Gallant drest

In flaunting Robes above the rest,

With awfull Accent cry'd;

What Mortall of a wretched Mind,

Whose Sighs infect the balmy Wind,

Has here presum'd to hide?

At this the Swain whose vent'rous Soul

No Fears of Magick Art controul,

Advanc'd in open sight;

'Nor have I Cause of Dreed, he said,

'Who view by no Presumption led

'Your Revels of the Night.

'Twas Grief, for Scorn of faithful Love,

'Which made my Steps unweeting, rove

'Amid the nightly Dew.

'Tis well, the Gallant crys again,

We Faeries never injure Men

Who dare to tell us true.

Exalt thy Love-dejected Heart,

Be mine the Task, or e'er we part,

To make thee Grief resign;

Now take the Pleasure of thy Chaunce;

Whilst I with Mab my part'ner daunce,

Be little Mable thine.

He spoke, and all a sudden there

Light Musick floats in wanton Air;

The Monarch leads the Queen:

The rest their Faerie Partners found,

And Mable trimly tript the Ground

With Edwin of the Green.

The Dauncing past, the Board was laid,

And siker such a Feast was made

As Heart and Lip desire;

Withouten Hands the Dishes fly,

The Glasses with a Wish come nigh,

And with a Wish retire.

But now to please the Faerie King,

Full ev'ry deal they laugh and sing,

And antick Feats devise;

Some wind and tumble like an Ape,

And other-some transmute their Shape

In Edwin's wond'ring Eyes.

'Till one at last that Robin hight,

(Renown'd for pinching Maids by Night)

Has hent him up aloof;

And full against the Beam he flung,

Where by the Back the Youth he hung

To spraul unneath the Roof.

From thence, "Reverse my Charm, he crys,

"And let it fairely now suffice

"The Gambol has been shown.

But Oberon answers with a Smile,

Content thee Edwin for a while,

The Vantage is thine own.

Here ended all the Phantome-play;

They smelt the fresh Approach of Day,

And heard a Cock to crow;

The whirling Wind that bore the Crowd

Has clap'd the Door, and whistled loud,

To warn them all to go.

Then screaming all at once they fly,

And all at once the Tapers dy;

Poor Edwin falls to Floor;

Forlorn his State, and dark the Place,

Was never Wight in sike a Case

Through all the Land before.

But soon as Dan Apollo rose,

Full Jolly Creature home he goes,

He feels his Back the less;

His honest Tongue and steady Mind

Han rid him of the Lump behind

Which made him want Success.

With lusty livelyhed he talks,

He seems a dauncing as he walks,

His Story soon took wind;

And beautious Edith sees the Youth,

Endow'd with Courage, Sense and Truth,

Without a Bunch behind.

The Story told, Sir Topaz mov'd,

(The Youth of Edith erst approv'd)

To see the Revel Scene:

At close of Eve he leaves his home,

And wends to find the ruin'd Dome

All on the gloomy Plain.

As there he bides, it so befell,

The Wind came rustling down a Dell,

A shaking seiz'd the Wall:

Up spring the Tapers as before,

The Faeries bragly foot the Floor,

And Musick fills the Hall.

But certes sorely sunk with woe

Sir Topaz sees the Elphin show,

His Spirits in him dy:

When Oberon crys, 'a Man is near,

'A mortall Passion, cleeped Fear,

'Hangs flagging in the Sky.

With that Sir Topaz (Hapless Youth!)

In Accents fault'ring ay for Ruth

Intreats them Pity graunt;

For als he been a mister Wight

Betray'd by wand'ring in the Night

To tread the circled Haunt;

'Ah Losell Vile, at once they roar!

'And little skill'd of Faerie lore,

'Thy Cause to come we know:

'Now has thy Kestrell Courage fell;

'And Faeries, since a Ly you tell,

'Are free to work thee Woe.

Then Will, who bears the wispy Fire

To trail the Swains among the Mire,

The Caitive upward flung;

There like a Tortoise in a Shop

He dangled from the Chamber-top,

Where whilome Edwin hung.

The Revel now proceeds apace,

Deffly they frisk it o'er the Place,

They sit, they drink, and eat;

The time with frolick Mirth beguile,

And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while

'Till all the Rout retreat.

By this the Starrs began to wink,

They skriek, they fly, the Tapers sink,

And down ydrops the Knight.

For never Spell by Faerie laid

With strong Enchantment bound a Glade

Beyond the length of Night.

Chill, dark, alone, adreed, he lay,

Till up the Welkin rose the Day,

Then deem'd the Dole was o'er:

But wot ye well his harder Lot?

His seely Back the Bunch has got

Which Edwin lost afore.

This Tale a Sybil-Nurse ared;

She softly strok'd my youngling Head,

And when the Tale was done,

'Thus some are born, my Son (she cries)

'With base Impediments to rise,

'And some are born with none.

'But Virtue can it self advance

'To what the Fav'rite Fools of Chance

'By Fortune seem'd design'd;

'Virtue can gain the Odds of Fate,

'And from it self shake off the Weight

'Upon th' unworthy Mind.

PERVIGILIUM VENERIS.

CRAS amet, qui numquam amavit; Quique amavit, cras amet.

Ver novum, ver jam canorum: vere natus orbis est,

Vere concordant amores, vere nubent alites,

Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus.

Cras amorem copulatrix inter umbras arborum

Implicat gazas virentes de flagello myrteo.

Cras Dione jura dicit, fulta sublimi throno.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Tune liquore de superno, spameo ponti e globo,

Caerulas inter catervas, inter & bipedes equos,

Fecit undantem Dionen de maritis imbribus.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Ipsa gemmas purpurantem pingit annum floribus,

Ipsa surgentis papillas de Favonî spiritu,

Urguet in toros tepentes; ipsa roris lucidi,

Noctis aura quem relinquit, spargit umentis aquas,

Et micant lacrymae trementes decidivo pondere.

Gutta praeceps orbe parvo sustinet casus suos.

In pudorem florulentae prodiderunt purpurae.

Umor ille, quem serenis astra rorant noctibus.

Mane virgines papillas solvit umenti peplo.

Ipsa jussit muae ut udae virgines nubant rosae

Fusae prius de cruore deque amoris osculis,

Deque gemmis, deque flammis, deque Solis purpuris,

Cras ruborem qui latebat veste tectus ignea,

Unica marito nodo non pudebit solvere.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Ipsa Nimfas Diva luco jussit ire myrteo

Et Puer comes puellis. Nec tamen credi potest

Esse Amorem feriatum, si sagittas vexerit.

Ite Nimfae: posuit arma, feriatus est Amor.

Jussus est inermis ire, nudus ire jussus est:

Neu quid arcu, neu sagitta, neu quid igne laederet.

Sed tamen cavete Nimfae, quod Cupido pulcer est:

Torus est inermis idem, quando nudus est Amor.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Compari Venus pudore mittit ad te virgines.

Una res est quam rogamus, cede virgo Delia,

Ut nemus sit incruentum de ferinis stragibus.

Ipsa vellet ut venires, si deceret virginem:

Jam tribus choros videres feriatos noctibus:

Congreges inter catervas ire per saltus tuos,

Floreas inter coronas, myrteas inter casas.

Nec Ceres, nec Bacchus absunt, nec Poetarum Deus;

Detinent & tota nox est pervigila cantibus.

Regnet in silvis Dione: tu recede Delia.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Jussit Hiblaeis tribunal stare Diva floribus.

Praesens ipsa jura dicit, adsederunt Gratiae.

Hibla totos funde flores quidquid annus adtulit.

Hibla florum rumpe vestem, quantus Aennae campus est.

Ruris hic crunt puellae, vel puellae montium,

Quaeque silvas, quaeque lucos, quaeque montes incolunt.

Jussit omnis adsidere pueri Mater alitas,

Jussit & nudo puellas nil Amori credere.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Et recentibus virentes ducat umbras floribus.

Cras erit qui primus aether copulavit nuptias,

Ut pater roris crearet vernis annum nubibus

In sinum maritus imber fluxit almae conjugis,

Ut foetus immixtus omnis alcret magno corpore.

Ipsa venas atque mentem permeante spiritu

Intus occultis gubernat procreatrix viribus,

Perque coelum, perque terras, perque pontum subditum,

Pervium sui tenorem seminali tramite

Imbuit, jussitque mundum nosse nascendi vias.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Ipsa Trojanos nepotes in Latino transtulit;

Ipsa Laurentem puellam conjugem nato dedit;

Moxque Marti de sacello dat pudicam virginem.

Romuleas ipsa fecit cum Sabinis nuptias,

Unde Rames & Quirites, proque prole posterûm

Romoli matrem crearet & nepotem Caesarem.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Rura foecundat voluptas: rura Venerem sentiunt

Ipse Amor puer Dionae rure natus dicitur.

Hunc ager cum parturiret, ipsa suscepit sinu,

Ipsa florum delicatis educavit osculis.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

Ecce, jam super genestas explicat aonii latus.

Quisque tuus quo tenetur conjugali foedere.

Subter umbras cum maritis ecce balantum gregem.

Et canoras non tacere Diva jussit alites.

Jam loquaces ore rauco stagna cygni perstrepunt,

Adsonant Terei puellae subter umbram populi,

Ut putas motus Amoris ore dici musico,

Et neges queri sororem de marito barbaro.

Illa cantat: nos tacemus: quando ver venit meum?

Quando faciam ut celidon, ut tacere desinam?

Perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Phoebus respicit.

Sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium.

Cras amet, qui numquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet.

THE VIGIL of VENUS.

Written in the Time of JULIUS CAESAR, and by some ascrib'd to CATULLUS.

LET those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

The Spring, the new, the warb'ling Spring appears,

The youthful Season of reviving Years;

In Spring the Loves enkindle mutual Heats,

The feather'd Nation chuse their tuneful Mates,

The Trees grow fruitful with descending Rain

And drest in diff'ring Greens adorn the Plain.

She comes; to morrow Beauty's Empress roves

Thro' Walks that winding run within the Groves;

She twines the shooting Myrtle into Bow'rs,

And ties their meeting Tops with Wreaths of Flow'rs,

Then rais'd sublimely on her easy Throne

From Nature's pow'rful Dictates draws her own.

Let those love now; who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

'Twas on that Day which saw the teeming Flood

Swell round, impregnate with celestial Blood;

Wand'ring in Circles stood the finny Crew,

The midst was left a void Expanse of Blue,

There Parent Ocean work'd with heaving Throes,

And dropping wet the fair Dione rose.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love them more.

She paints the purple Year with vary'd show,

Tips the green Gem, and makes the Blossom glow.

She makes the turgid Buds receive the Breeze,

Expand to Leaves, and shade the naked Trees.

When gath'ring damps the misty Nights diffuse,

She sprinkles all the Morn with balmy Dews;

Bright trembling Pearls depend at ev'ry spray,

And kept from falling, seem to fall away.

A glossy Freshness hence the Rose receives,

And blushes sweet through all her silken Leaves;

(The Drops descending through the silent Night,

While Stars serenely roll their golden Light,)

Close 'till the Morn, her humid Veil she holds;

Then deckt with Virgin Pomp the Flow'r unsolds.

Soon will the Morning blush: Ye Maids! prepare,

In rosy Garlands bind your flowing Hair

'Tis Venus' Plant: The Blood fair Venus shed,

O'er the gay Beauty pour'd immortal Red;

From Love's soft Kiss a sweet Ambrosial Smell

Was taught for ever on the Leaves to dwell;

From Gemms, from Flames, from orient Rays of Light

The richest Lustre makes her Purple bright;

And she to morrow weds; the sporting Gale

Unties her Zone, she bursts the verdant Veil;

Thro' all her Sweets the rifling Lover flies,

And as he breaths, her glowing Fires arise.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

Now fair Dione to the Myrtle Grove

Sends the gay Nymphs, and sends her tender Love.

And shall they venture? is it safe to go?

While Nymphs have Hearts, and Cupid wears a Bow?

Yes safely venture, 'tis his Mother's Will;

He walks unarm'd and undesigning ill,

His Torch extinct, his Quiver useless hung,

His Arrows idle, and his Bow unstrung.

And yet, ye Nymphs, beware, his Eyes have Charms,

And Love that's naked, still is Love in Arms.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

From Venus Bow'r to Delia's Lodge repairs

A Virgin Train compleat with modest Airs:

'Chast Delia! grant our Suit! or shun the Wood,

'Nor stain this sacred Lawn with savage Blood.

'Venus, O Delia! if she cou'd persuade,

'Wou'd ask thy Presence, might she ask a Maid.

Here chearful Quires for three auspicious Nights

With Songs prolong the pleasurable Rites:

Here Crouds in Measures lightly-decent rove;

Or seek by Pairs the Covert of the Grove,

Where meeting Greens for Arbours arch above,

And mingling Flowrets strow the Scenes of Love.

Here dancing Ceres shakes her golden Sheaves:

Here Bacchus revels, deckt with viny Leaves:

Here Wit's enchanting God in Lawrel crown'd

Wakes all the ravish'd Hours with silver Sound.

Ye Fields, ye Forests, own Dione's Reign,

And Delia, Huntress Delia, shun the Plain.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

Gay with the Bloom of all her opening Year,

The Queen at Hybla bids her Throne appear;

And there presides; and there the fav'rite Band

(Her smiling Graces) share the great Command.

Now beauteous Hybla! dress thy flow'ry Beds

With all the Pride the lavish Season sheds,

Now all thy Colours, all thy Fragrance yield,

And rival Enna's Aromatick Field.

To fill the Presence of the gentle Court

From ev'ry Quarter rural Nymphs resort,

From Woods, from Mountains, from their humble Vales,

From Waters curling with the wanton Gales.

Pleas'd with the joyful Train, the laughing Queen

In Circles seats them round the Bank of green;

And 'lovely Girls, (she whispers) guard your Hearts;

'My Boy, tho' stript of Arms, abounds in Arts.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

Let tender Grass in shaded Allys spread,

Let early Flow'rs erect their painted Head.

To morrow's Glory be to morrow seen,

That Day, old Ether wedded Earth in green.

The Vernal Father bid the Spring appear,

In Clouds he coupled to produce the Year,

The Sap descending o'er her Bosom ran,

And all the various sorts of Soul began.

By Wheels unknown to Sight, by secret Veins

Distilling Life, the fruitful Goddess reigns,

Through all the lovely Realms of native Day,

Through all the circled Land, and circling Sea;

With fertil Seed she fill'd the pervious Earth,

And ever fix'd the mystick Ways of Birth.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

'Twas she the Parent, to the Latian Shore

Through various Dangers Troy's Remainder bore.

She won Lavinia for her warlike Son,

And winning her, the Latian Empire won.

She gave to Mars the Maid, whose honour'd Womb

Swell'd with the Founder of immortal Rome.

Decoy'd by Shows the Sabin Dames she led,

And taught our vig'rous Youth the Means to wed.

Hence sprung the Romans, hence the Race divine

Thro' which great Caesar draws his Julian Line.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

In rural Seats the Soul of Pleasure reigns;

The Life of Beauty fills the rural Scenes;

Ev'n Love (if Fame the Truth of Love declare)

Drew first the breathings of a rural Air.

Some pleasing Meadow pregnant Beauty prest,

She laid her Infant on its flow'ry Breast,

From Nature's Sweets he sipp'd the fragrant Dew,

He smil'd, he kiss'd them, and by kissing grew.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

Now Bulls o'er Stalks of Broom extend their Sides,

Secure of Favours from their lowing Brides.

Now stately Rams their fleecy Consorts lead,

Who bleating follow thro' the wand'ring Shade.

And now the Goddess bids the Birds appear,

Raise all their Musick, and salute the Year:

Then deep the Swan begins, and deep the Song

Runs o'er the Water where he sails along;

While Philomela tunes a treble Strain,

And from the Poplar charms the list'ning Plain.

We fancy Love exprest at ev'ry Note,

It melts, it warbles, in her liquid Throat.

Of barb'rous Tereus she complains no more,

But sings for Pleasure as for Grief before.

And still her Graces rise, her Airs extend,

And all is Silence 'till the Syren end.

How long in coming is my lovely Spring?

And when shall I, and when the Swallow sing?

Sweet Philomela cease, —Or here I sit,

And silent lose my rapt'rous Hour of Wit:

'Tis gone, the Fit retires, the Flames decay,

My tuneful Phoebus flies averse away.

His own Amycle thus, as Stories run,

But once was silent, and that once undone.

Let those love now, who never lov'd before,

Let those who always lov'd, now love the more.

HOMER's BATRACHOMUOMACHIA: OR, THE BATTEL OF THE FROGS and MICE.

Names of the MICE.

- PSYCARPAX, One who plunders Granaries.

- Troxartas, A Bread-eater.

- Lychomile, A Licker of Meal.

- Pternotractas, A Bacon-eater.

- Lychopinax, A Licker of Dishes.

- Embasichytros, A creeper into Pots.

- Lychenor, A Name from Licking.

- Troglodytes, One who runs into Holes.

- Artophagus, Who feeds on Bread.

- Tyroglyphus, A Cheese Scooper,

- Pternoglyphus, A Bacon Scooper.

- Pternophogus, A Bacon eater.

- Cnissodioctes, One who follows the Steam of Kitchins.

- Sitophagus, An eater of Wheat.

- Meridarpax, One who plunders his Share.

Names of the FROGS.

- PHYSIGNATHUS, One who swells his Cheeks.

- Pelus A Name from Mud.

- Hydromeduse, A Ruler in the Waters.

- Hypsiboas, A loud Bawler.

- Pelion, From Mud.

- Seutlaeus, Call'd from the Beets.

- Polyphonus, A great Babbler.

- Lymnocharis, One who loves the Lake.

- Crambophagus, Cabbage-eater.

- Lymnisius, Call'd from the Lake.

- Calaminthius, From the Herb.

- Hydrocharis, Who loves the Water.

- Borborocates, Who lies in the Mud.

- Prassophagus, An eater of Garlick.

- Pelusius, From Mud.

- Pelobates, Who walks in the Dirt.

- Prassaeus, Call'd from Garlick.

- Craugasides, From Croaking.

HOMER's BATTEL of the FROGS, &c.
BOOK I.

TO fill my rising Song with sacred Fire,

Ye tuneful Nine, ye sweet Celestial Quire!

From Helicon's imbow'ring Height repair,

Attend my Labours, and reward my Pray'r.

The dreadful Toils of raging Mars I write,

The Springs of Contest, and the Fields of Fight;

How threat'ning Mice advanc'd with warlike Grace,

And wag'd dire Combats with the croaking Race.

Not louder Tumults shook Olympus' Tow'rs,

When Earth-born Giants dar'd Immortal Pow'rs.

These equal Acts an equal Glory claim,

And thus the Muse records the Tale of Fame.

Once on a Time, fatigu'd and out of Breath,

And just escap'd the stretching Claws of Death,

A Gentle Mouse, whom Cats pursu'd in vain,

Fled swift-of-foot across the neighb'ring Plain,

Hung o'er a Brink, his eager Thirst to cool.

And dipt his Whiskers in the standing Pool;

When near a courteous Frog advanc'd his Head;

And from the Waters, hoarse-resounding said,

What art thou, Stranger? What the Line you boast?

What Chance hath cast thee panting on our Coast?

With strictest Truth let all thy Words agree,

Nor let me find a faithless Mouse in thee.

If worthy Friendship, proffered Friendship take,

And ent'ring view the pleasureable Lake:

Range o'er my Palace, in my Bounty share,

And glad return from hospitable Fare.

This silver Realm extends beneath my Sway,

And me, their Monarch, all its Frogs obey.

Great Physignathus I, from Peleus' Race,

Begot in fair Hydromede's Embrace,

Where by the nuptial Bank that paints his Side,

The swift Eridanus delights to glide.

Thee too, thy Form, thy Strength, and Port proclaim

A scepter'd King; a Son of Martial Fame;

Then trace thy Line, and Aid my guessing Eyes.

Thus ceas'd the Frog, and thus the Mouse replies.

Known to the Gods, the Men, the Birds that fly

Thro' wild Expanses of the midway Sky,

My Name resounds; and if unknown to thee,

The Soul of Great Psycarpax lives in me.

Of brave Troxartas' Line, whose sleeky Down

In Love compress'd Lychomile the brown.

My Mother she, and Princess of the Plains

Where-e'er her Father Pternotroctas reigns:

Born where a Cabin lifts its airy Shed,

With Figs, with Nuts, with vary'd Dainties fed.

But since our Natures nought in common know,

From what Foundation can a Friendship grow?

These curling Waters o'er thy Palace roll;

But Man's high Food supports my Princely Soul.

In vain the circled Loaves attempt to lye

Conceal'd in Flaskets from my curious Eye,

In vain the Tripe that boasts the whitest Hue,

In vain the gilded Bacon shuns my View,

In vain the Cheeses, Offspring of the Pale,

Or honey'd Cakes, which Gods themselves regale,

And as in Arts I shine, in Arms I fight,

Mix'd with the bravest, and unknown to Flight.

Tho' large to mine the humane Form appear,

Not Man himself can smite my Soul with Fear.

Sly to the Bed with silent Steps I go,

Attempt his Finger, or attack his Toe,

And fix indented Wounds with dext'rous Skill,

Sleeping he feels, and only seems to feel.

Yet have we Foes which direful Dangers cause,

Grim Owls with Talons arm'd, and Cats with Claws,

And that false Trap, the Den of silent Fate,

Where Death his Ambush plants around the Bait:

All-dreaded these, and dreadful o'er the rest

The potent Warriors of the tabby Vest,

If to the dark we fly, the Dark they trace,

And rend our Heroes of the nibling Race.

But me, nor Stalks, nor watrish Herbs delight,

Nor can the crimson Radish charm my Sight,

The Lake-resounding Frogs selected Fare,

Which not a Mouse of any Taste can bear.

As thus the downy Prince his Mind exprest,

His Answer thus the croaking King addrest.

Thy Words luxuriant on thy Dainties rove,

And, Stranger, we can boast of bounteous Jove:

We sport in Water, or we dance on Land,

And born amphibious, Food from both command.

But trust thy self where Wonders ask thy View,

And safely tempt those Seas, I'll bear thee thro':

Ascend my Shoulders, firmly keep thy Seat,

And reach my marshy Court, and feast in State.

He said, and bent his Back; with nimble Bound

Leaps the light Mouse, and clasps his Arms around,

Then wond'ring floats, and sees with glad Survey

The winding Banks resembling Ports at Sea.

But when aloft the curling Water rides,

And wets with azure Wave his downy Sides,

His Thoughts grow conscious of approaching Woe,

His idle Tears with vain Repentance flow,

His Locks he rends, his trembling Feet he rears,

Thick beats his Heart with unaccustom'd Fears;

He sighs, and chill'd with Danger, longs for Shore:

His Tail extended forms a fruitless Oar,

Half-drench'd in liquid Death his Pray'rs he spake,

And thus bemoan'd him from the dreadful Lake.

So pass'd Europa thro' the rapid Sea,

Trembling and fainting all the vent'rous Way;

With oary Feet the Bull triumphant road,

And safe in Crete depos'd his lovely Load.

Ah safe at last! may thus the Frog support

My trembling Limbs to reach his ample Court.

As thus he sorrows, Death ambiguous grows,

Lo! from the deep a Water-Hydra rose;

He rolls his sanguin'd Eyes, his Bosom heaves,

And darts with active Rage along the Waves.

Confus'd, the Monarch sees his hissing Foe,

And dives to shun the sable Fates below.

Forgetful Frog! The Friend thy Shoulders bore,

Unskill'd in Swimming, floats remote from Shore.

He grasps with fruitless Hands to find Relief,

Supinely falls, and grinds his Teeth with Grief,

Plunging he sinks, and struggling mounts again,

And sinks, and strives, but strives with Fate in vain.

The weighty Moisture clogs his hairy Vest,

And thus the Prince his dying Rage exprest.

Nor thou, that flings me flound'ring from thy Back,

As from hard Rocks rebounds the shatt'ring Wrack,

Nor thou shalt'scape thy Due, perfidious King!

Pursu'd by Vengeance on the swiftest Wing:

At Land thy Strength could never equal mine,

At Sea to conquer, and by Craft, was thine.

But Heav'n has Gods, and Gods have searching Eyes:

Ye Mice, ye Mice, my great Avengers rise!

This said, he sighing gasp'd,' and gasping dy'd.

His Death the young Lychopinax espy'd,

As on the flow'ry Brink he pass'd the Day,

Bask'd in the Beams, and loyter'd Life away.

Loud shrieks the Mouse, his Shrieks the Shores repeat;

The nibbling Nation learn their Heroe's Fate:

Grief, dismal Grief ensues; deep Murmurs sound,

And shriller Fury fills the deafen'd Ground.

From Lodge to Lodge the sacred Heralds run,

To fix their Council with the rising Sun;

Where great Troxartas crown'd in Glory reigns,

And winds his length'ning Court beneath the Plains;

Psycarpax Father, Father now no more!

For poor Psycarpax lies remote from Shore;

Supine he lies! the silent Waters stand,

And no kind Billow wafts the Dead to Land!

HOMER's BATTEL of the FROGS, &c.
BOOK II.

WHEN rosy-finger'd Morn had ting'd the Clouds,

Around their Monarch-Mouse the Nation crouds,

Slow rose the Sov'reign, heav'd his anxious Breast,

And thus, the Council fill'd with Rage, addrest.

For lost Psycarpax much my Soul endures,

'Tis mine the private Grief, the publick, yours.

Three warlike Sons adorn'd my nuptial Bed,

Three Sons, alas, before their Father dead!

Our Eldest perished by the rav'ning Cat,

As near my Court the Prince unheedful sate.

Our next, an Engine fraught with Danger drew,

The Portal gap'd, the Bait was hung in View,

Dire Arts assist the Trap, the Fates decoy,

And Men unpitying kill'd my gallant Boy!

The last, his Country's Hope, his Parent's Pride,

Plung'd in the Lake by Physignathus, dy'd.

Rouse all the War, my Friends! avenge the Deed,

And bleed that Monarch, and his Nation bleed.

His Words in ev'ry Breast inspir'd Alarms,

And careful Mars supply'd their Host with Arms.

In verdant Hulls despoil'd of all their Beans,

The buskin'd Warriors stalk'd along the Plains:

Quills aptly bound, their bracing Corselet made,

Fac'd with the Plunder of a Cat they flay'd:

The Lamp's round Boss affords their ample Shield;

Large Shells of Nuts their cov'ring Helmet yield;

And o'er the Region, with reflected Rays,

Tall Groves of Needles for their Lances blaze.

Dreadful in Arms the marching Mice appear;

The wond'ring Frogs perceive the Tumult near,

Forsake the Waters, thick'ning form a Ring,

And ask, and hearken, whence the Noises spring.

When near the Croud, disclos'd to publick View,

The valiant Chief Embasichytros drew:

The sacred Herald's Scepter grac'd his Hand,

And thus his Words exprest his King's Command.

Ye Frogs! the Mic with Vengeance fir'd, advance,

And deckt in Armour shake the shining Lance:

Their hapless Prince by Physignathus slain,

Extends incumbent on the watry Plain.

Then arm your Host, the doubtful Battel try;

Lead forth those Frogs that have the Soul to die.

The Chief retires, the Crowd the Challenge hear,

And proudly-swelling yet perplex'd appear,

Much they resent, yet much their Monarch blame,

Who rising, spoke to clear his tainted Fame.

O Friends, I never forc'd the Mouse to Death,

Nor saw the Gaspings of his latest Breath.

He, vain of Youth, our Art of Swimming try'd'

And vent'rous, in the Lake the Wanton dy'd.

To Vengeance now by false Appearance led,

They point their Anger at my guiltless Head.

But wage the rising War by deep Device,

And turn its Fury on the crafty Mice.

Your King directs the Way; my Thoughts elate

With Hopes of Conquest, form Designs of Fate.

Where high the Banks their verdant Surface heave,

And the steep Sides confine the sleeping Wave,

There, near the Margin, clad in Armour bright,

Sustain the first impetuous Shocks of Fight:

Then, where the dancing Feather joins the Crest,

Let each brave Frog his obvious Mouse arrest;

Each strongly grasping, headlong plunge a Foe,

'Till countless Circles whirl the Lake below;

Down sink the Mice in yielding Waters drown'd;

Loud flash the Waters; and the Shores resound:

The Frogs triumphant tread the conquer'd Plain,

And raise their glorious Trophies of the slain.

He spake no more, his prudent Scheme imparts

Redoubling Ardour to the boldest Hearts.

Green was the Suit his arming Heroes chose,

Around their Legs the Greaves of Mallows close,

Green were the Beets about their Shoulders laid,

And green the Colewort, which the Target made.

Form'd of the vary'd Shells the Waters yield,

Their glossy Helmets glist'ned o'er the Field:

And tap'ring Sea-Reeds for the polish'd Spear,

With upright Order pierc'd the ambient Air.

Thus dress'd for War, they take th' appointed Height,

Poize the long Arms, and urge the promis'd Fight.

But now, where Jove's irradiate Spires arise,

With Stars surrounded in Aethereal Skies,

(A Solemn Council call'd) the brazen Gates

Unbar; the Gods assume their golden Seats:

The Sire superior leans, and points to show

What wond'rous Combats Mortals wage below:

How strong, how large, the num'rous Heroes stride!

What Length of Lance they shake with warlike Pride!

What eager Fire, their rapid March reveals!

So the fierce Centaurs ravag'd o'er the Dales;

And so confirm'd, the daring Titans rose,

Heap'd Hills on Hills, and bid the Gods be Foes.

This seen, the Pow'r his sacred Visage rears,

He casts a pitying Smile on worldly Cares,

And asks what heav'nly Guardians take the List,

Or who the Mice, or who the Frogs assist?

Then thus to Pallas. If my Daughter's Mind

Have join'd the Mice, why stays she still behind;

Drawn forth by sav'ry Steams they wind their Way,

And sure Attendance round thine Altar pay,

Where while the Victims gratify their Taste,

They sport to please the Goddess of the Feast.

Thus spake the Ruler of the spacious Skies,

But thus, resolv'd, the blue-ey'd Maid replies.

In vain, my Father! all their Dangers plead,

To such, thy Pallas never grants her Aid.

My flow'ry Wreaths they petulantly spoil,

And rob my chrystal Lamps of feeding Oil.

(Ills following Ills) but what afflicts me more,

My Veil, that idle Race profanely tore.

The Web was curious, wrought with Art divine;

Relentless Wretches! all the Work was mine!

Along the Loom the purple Warp I spread,

Cast the light Shoot, and crost the silver Thread;

In this their Teeth a thousand Breaches tear,

The thousand Breaches skilful Hands repair,

For which vile earthly Dunns thy Daughter grieve,

(The Gods, that use no Coin, have none to give.

And Learning's Goddess never less can owe,

Neglected Learning gains no Wealth below.)

Nor let the Frogs to win my Succour sue,

Those clam'rous Fools have lost my Favour too.

For late, when all the Conflict ceast at Night,

When mystretch'd Sinews work'd with eager Fight,

When spent with glorious Toil, I left the Field,

And sunk for Slumber on my swelling Shield;

Lo from the Deep, repelling sweet Repose,

With noisy Croakings half the Nation rose:

Devoid of Rest, with aking Brows I lay,

'Till Cocks proclaim'd the crimson Dawn of Day.

Let all, like me, from either Host forbear,

Nor tempt the flying Furies of the Spear.

Let heav'nly Blood (or what for Blood may flow)

Adorn the Conquest of a meaner Foe,

Some daring Mouse may meet the wond'rous Odds,

Tho' Gods oppose, and brave the wounded Gods.

O'er gilded Clouds reclin'd, the Danger view,

And be the Wars of Mortals Scenes for you.

So mov'd the blue-ey'd Queen; her Words persuade,

Great Jove assented, and the rest obey'd.

HOMER's BATTEL of the: FROGS, &c.
BOOK III.

NOW Front to Front the marching Armies shine,

Halt e'er they meet, and form the length'ning Line:

The Chiefs conspicuous seen and heard afar,

Give the loud Signal to the rushing War;

Their dreadful Trumpets deep mouth'd Hornets sound,

The sounded Charge remurmurs o'er the Ground,

Ev'n Jove proclaims a Field of Horror nigh,

And rolls low Thunder thro' the troubled Sky.

First to the Fighr the large Hypsiboas flew,

And brave Lychenor with a Javelin slew.

The luckless Warrior fill'd with gen'rous Flame,

Stood foremost glitt'ring in the Post of Fame;

When in his Liver struck, the Jav'lin hung;

The Mouse fell thund'ring, and the Target rung;

Prone to the Ground he sinks his closing Eye,

And soil'd in Dust his lovely Tresses lie.

A Spear at Pelion Troglodytes cast,

The missive Spear within the Bosom past;

Death's sable Shades the fainting Frog surround,

And Life's red Tide runs ebbing from the Wound.

Embasichytros felt Seutlaeus' Dart

Transfix, and quiver in his panting Heart;

But great Artophagus aveng'd the slain,

And big Seutlaeus tumbling loads the Plain,

And Polyphonus dies, a Frog renown'd,

For boastful Speech and Turbulence of Sound;

Deep thro' the Belly pierc'd, supine he lay,

And breath'd his Soul against the Face of Day.

The strong Lymnocharis, who view'd with Ire,

A Victor triumph, and a Friend expire;

And fiercely flung where Troglodytes fought;

With heaving Arms a rocky Fragment caught,

(A Warrior vers'd in Arts, of sure Retreat,

But Arts in vain elude impending Fate;)

Full on his sinewy Neck the Fragment fell,

And o'er his Eye-lids Clouds eternal dwell.

Lychenor (second of the glorious Name)

Striding advanc'd, and took no wand'ring Aim;

Thro' all the Frog the shining Jav'lin flies,

And near the vanquish'd Mouse the Victor dies;

The dreadful Stroke Crambophagus affrights,

Long bred to Banquets, less inur'd to Fights,

Heedless he runs, and stumbles o'er the Steep,

And wildly flound'ring flashes up the Deep;

Lychenor following with a downward Blow,

Reach'd in the Lake his unrecover'd Foe;

Gasping he rolls, a purple Stream of Blood

Distains the Surface of the Silver Flood;

Thro' the wide Wound the rushing Entrails throng,

And slow the breathless Carkass floats along.

Lymnisius good Tyroglyphus assails,

Prince of the Mice that haunt the flow'ry Vales,

Lost to the milky Fares and rural Seat,

He came to perish on the Bank of Fate.

The dread Pternoglyphus demands the Fight,

Which tender Calaminthius shuns by Flight,

Drops the green Target, springing quits the Foe,

Glides thro' the Lake, and safely dives below.

But dire Pternophagus divides his Way

Thro' breaking Ranks, and leads the dreadful Day.

No nibbling Prince excell'd in Fierceness more,

His Parents fed him on the savage Boar;

But where his Lance the Field with Blood imbru'd,

Swift as he mov'd, Hydrocharis pursu'd,

'Till fall'n in Death he lies, a shatt'ring Stone

Sounds on the Neck, and crushes all the Bone,

His Blood pollutes the Verdure of the Pialn,

And from his Nostrils bursts the gushing Brain.

Lycopinax with Borbocaetes fights

A blameless Frog, whom humbler Life delights;

The fatal Jav'lin unrelenting flies,

And Darkness seals the gentle Croaker's Eyes.

Incens'd Prassophagus with spritely Bound,

Bears Cnissiodortes off the rising Ground,

Thendragshim o'er the Lake depriv'd of Breath,

And downward plunging, sinks his Soul to Death.

But now the great Psycarpax shines afar,

(Scarce he so great whose Loss provok'd the War)

Swift to Revenge his fatal Jav'lin fled,

And thro' the Liver struck Pelusius dead;

His freckled Corps before the Victor fell,

His Soul indignant fought the Shades of Hell.

This saw Pelobates, and from the Flood

Heav'd with both Hands a monst'rous Mass of Mud,

The Cloud obscene o'er all the Hero flies,

Dishonours his brown Face, and blots his Eyes.

Enrag'd, and wildly sputt'ring, from the Shore

A Stone immense of Size the Warrior bore,

A Load for lab'ring Earth, (whose Bulk to raise,

Asks ten degen'rate Mice of modern Days.)

Full on the Leg arrives the crushing Wound;

The Frog supportless, wriths upon the Ground.

Thus flush'd, the Victor wars with matchless Force,

'Till loud Craugasides arrests his Course,

Hoarse-croaking Threats precede! with fatal Speed

Deep thro' the Belly run the pointed Reed,

Then strongly tug'd, return'd imbru'd with Gore,

And on the Pile his reeking Entrails bore.

The lame Sitophagus oppress'd with Pain,

Creeps from the desp'rate Dangers of the Plain;

And where the Ditches rising Weeds supply

To spread their lowly Shades beneath the Sky,

There lurks the silent Mouse reliev'd from Heat

And safe embowr'd, avoids the Chance of Fate.

But here Troxartes, Physignathus there,

Whirl the dire Furies of the pointed Spear:

But where the Foot around its Ankle plies,

Troxartes wounds, and Physignathus flies,

Halts to the Pool, a safe Retreat to find,

And trails a dangling Length of Leg behind.

The Mouse still urges, still the Frog retires,

And half in Anguish of the Flight expires:

Then pious Ardor young Prassaeus brings,

Betwixt the Fortunes of contending Kings:

Lank, harmless Frog! with Forces hardly grown,

He darts the Reed in Combats not his own,

Which faintly tinkling on Troxartes' Shield,

Hangs at the Point, and drops upon the Field.

Now nobly tow'ring o'er the rest appears

A gallant Prince that far transcends his Years,

Pride of his Sire, and Glory of his House,

And more a Mars in Combat than a Mouse:

His Action bold, robust his ample Frame,

And Meridarpax his resounding Name.

The Warrior singled from the fighting Crowd,

Boasts the dire Honours of his Arms aloud;

Then strutting near the Lake, with Looks elate;

To all its Nations threats approaching Fate.

And such his Strength, the Silver Lakes around

Might roll their Waters o'er unpeopled Ground.

But pow'rful Jove, who shews no less his Grace

To Frogs that perish, than to human Race,

Felt soft Compassion rising in his Soul,

And shook his sacred Head, that shook the Pole.

Then thus to all the gazing Pow'rs began

The Sire of Gods, and Frogs, and Mice, and Man,

What Seas of Blood I view! what Worlds of slain!

An Iliad rising from a Day's Campaign!

How fierce his Jav'lin o'er the trembling Lakes

The black-fur'd Hero Meridarpax shakes!

Unless some fav'ring Deity descend,

Soon will the Frogs loquacious Empire end.

Let dreadful Pallas wing'd with Pity fly,

And make her AEgis blaze before his Eye:

While Mars refulgent on his ratling Car,

Arrests his raging Rival of the War.

He ceas'd, reclining with attentive Head,

When thus the glorious God of Combats said.

Nor Pallas, Jove! tho' Pallas take the Field,

With all the Terrors of her hissing Shield,

Nor Mars himself, tho' Mars in Armour bright

Ascend his Car, and wheel amidst the Fight;

Not these can drive the des'prate Mouse afar,

Or change the Fortunes of the bleeding War.

Let all go forth, all Heav'n in Arms arise,

Or launch thy own red Thunder from the Skies.]

Such ardent Bolts as flew that wond'rous Day,

When Heaps of Titans mix'd with Mountains lay,

When all the Giant-Race enormous fell,

And huge Enceladus was hurl'd to Hell.

'Twas thus th' Armipotent advis'd the Gods,

When from his Throne the Cloud-Compeller nods,

Deep length'ning Thunders run from Pole to Pole,

Olympus trembles as the Thunders roll.

Then swift he whirls the brandish'd Bolt around,

And headlong darts it at the distant Ground,

The Bolt discharg'd inwrap'd with Light'ning flies,

And rends its flaming Passage thro' the Skies,

Then Earth's Inhabitants, the Niblers, shake,

And Frogs, the Dwellers in the Waters, quake.

Yet still the Mice advance their dread Design,

And the last Danger threats the croaking Line,

'Till Jove that inly mourn'd the Loss they bore,

With strange Assistants fill'd the frighted Shore.

Pour'd from the neighb'ring Strand, deform'd to View,

They march, a sudden unexpected Crew!

Strong Sutes of Armor round their Bodies close,

Which, like thick Anvils, blunt the Force of Blows;

In wheeling Marches turn'd oblique they go;

With Harpy Claws their Limbs divide below;

Fell Sheers the Passage to their Mouth command;

From out the Flesh their Bones by Nature stand;

Broad spread their Backs, their shining Shoulders rise;

Unnumber'd Joints distort their lengthen'd Thighs;

With nervous Cords their Hands are firmly brac'd;

Their round black Eye-balls in their Bosom plac'd;

On eight long Feet the wond'rous Warriors tread;

And either end alike supplies a Head.

These, mortal Wits to call the Crabs, agree,

The Gods have other Names for Things than we.

Now where the Jointures from their Loins depend,

The Heroes Tails with sev'ring Grasps they rend.

Here, short of Feet, depriv'd the Pow'r to fly,

There, without Hands, upon the Field they lie.

Wrench'd from their Holds, and scatter'd all around,

The bended Lances heap the cumber'd Ground.

Helpless Amazement, Fear pursuing Fear,

And mad Confusion thro' their Host appear:

O'er the wild Wast with headlong Flight they go,

Or creep conceal'd in vaulted Holes below.

But down Olympus to the Western Seas

Far-shooting Phoebus drove with fainter Rays;

And a whole War (so Jove ordain'd) begun,

Was fought, and ceas'd, in one revolving Sun.

To Mr. POPE.

TO praise, yet still with due Respect to praise,

A Bard triumphant in immortal Bays,

The Learn'd to show, the Sensible commend,

Yet still preserve the Province of the Friend,

What Life, what Vigour, must the Lines require?

What Musick tune them? what Affection fire?

O might thy Genius in my Bosom shine!

Thou shouldst not fail of Numbers worthy thine,

The brightest Antients might at once agree

To sing within my Lays, and sing of thee.

Horace himself wou'd own thou dost excell

In candid Arts to play the Critick well.

Ovid himself might wish to sing the Dame

Whom Windsor Forest sees a gliding Stream,

On silver Feet, with annual Osier crown'd,

She runs for ever thro' Poetick Ground.

How flame the Glories of Belinda's Hair,

Made by thy Muse the Envy of the Fair;

Less shone the Tresses Aegypt's Princess wore,

Which sweet Callimachus so sung before.

Here courtly Trifles set the World at odds,

Belles war with Beaus, and Whims descend for Gods,

The new Machines in Names of Ridicule,

Mock the grave Phrenzy of the Chimick Fool.

But know, ye Fair, a Point conceal'd with Art,

The Sylphs and Gnomes are but a Woman's Heart:

The Graces stand in sight; a Satyr Train

Peep o'er their Heads, and laugh behind the Scene.

In Fame's fair Temple, o'er the boldest Wits

Inshrin'd on high the sacred Virgil sits,

And sits in Measures, such as Virgil's Muse

To place thee near him might be fond to chuse.

How might he tune th' alternate Reed with thee,

Perhaps a Strephon thou, a Daphnis he,

While some old Damon o'er the Vulgar wise

Thinks he deserves, and thou deserv'sf the Prize.

Rapt with the Thought my Fancy seeks the Plains,

And turns me Shepherd while I hear the Strains.

Indulgent Nurse of ev'ry tender Gale,

Parent of Flowrets, old Arcadia hail!

Here in the cool my Limbs at ease I spread,

Here let thy Poplars whisper o'er my Head,

Still slide thy Waters soft among the Trees,

Thy Aspins quiver in a breathing Breeze,

Smile all thy Vallies in eternal Spring,

Be hush'd, ye Winds! while Pope and Virgil sing.

In English Lays, and all sublimely great,

Thy Homer warms with all his antient Heat,

He shines in Council, thunders in the Fight,

And flames with ev'ry Sense of great Delight.

Long has that Poet reign'd, and long unknown,

Like Monarchs sparkling on a distant Throne;

In all the Majesty of Greek retir'd,

Himself unknown, his mighty Name admir'd,

His Language failing, wrap'd him round with Night,

Thine rais'd by thee, recals the Work to light.

So wealthy Mines, that Ages long before

Fed the large Realms around with Golden Oar,

When choak'd by sinking Banks, no more appear,

And Shepherds only say, The Mines were here:

Shou'd some rich Youth (if Nature warm his Heart,

And all his Projects stand inform'd with Art)

Here clear the Caves, there ope the leading Vein;

The Mines detected flame with Gold again.

How vast, how copious are thy new Designs!

How ev'ry Musick varies in thy Lines!

Still as I read, I feel my Bosom beat,

And rise in Raptures by another's Heat.

Thus in the Wood, when Summer dress'd the Days,

When Windsor lent us tuneful Hours of Ease,

Our Ears the Lark, the Thrush, the Turtle blest,

And Philomela sweetest o're the rest:

The Shades resound with Song—O softly tread!

While a whole Season warbles round my Head.

This to my Friend—and when a Friend inspires

My silent Harp its Masters Hand requires,

Shakes off the Dust, and makes these Rocks resound,

For Fortune plac't me in unfertile Ground;

Far from the Joys that with my Soul agree,

From Wit, from Learning,—far, oh far from thee!

Here Moss-grown Trees expand the smallest Leaf,

Here half an Acre's Corn is half a Sheaf,

Here Hills with naked Heads the Tempest meet,

Rocks at their Side, and Torrents at their Feet,

Or lazy Lakes unconscious of a Flood,

Whose dull brown Naiads ever sleep in Mud.

Yet here Content can dwell, and Learned Ease,

A Friend delight me, and an Author please,

Ev'n here I sing, while Pope supplies the Theme,

Show my own Love, tho' not increase his Fame.

Part of the first Canto of the Rape of the Lock.

AND now unveil'd, the Toilet stands display'd,

Each Silver Vase in mystick order laid.

First, rob'd in white, the Nymph intent adores

With Head uncover'd, the Cosmetic Pow'rs.

A heav'nly Image in the Glass appears,

To that she bends, to that her Eyes she rears;

Th' inferior Priestess, at her Altar's side,

Trembling, begins the sacred Rites of Pride.

Unnumber'd Treasures ope at once, and here

The various Off'rings of the World appear;

From each she nicely culls with curious Toil,

And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring Spoil,

This Casket India's glowing Gems unlocks,

And all Arabia breathes from yonder Box.

The Tortoise here and Elephant unite,

Transform'd to Combs, the speckled, and the white.

Here files of Pins extend their shining rows,

Puffs, Powders, Patches, Bibles, Billet-doux.

Now awful Beauty puts on all its Arms,

The Fair each Moment rises in her Charms,

Repairs her Smiles, awakens ev'ry Grace,

And calls forth all the Wonders of her Face;

Sees by degrees a purer Blush arise,

And keener Lightnings quicken in her Eyes.

The busy Sylphs surround their darling Care;

These set the Head, and those divide the Hair,

Some fold the Sleeve, while others plait the Gown,

And Betty's prais'd for Labours not her own.

A TRANSLATION of part of the first Canto of the Rape of the Lock, into Leonine Verse, after the manner of the ancient Monks.

ET nunc dilectum speculum, pro more retectum,

Emicat in mensâ, quae splendet pyxide densâ:

Tum primum lymphâ, se purgat candida Nympha;

Jamque sine mendâ, coelestis imago videnda,

Nuda caput, bellos retinet, regit, implet, ocellos.

Hâc stupet explorans, seu cultus numen adorans.

Inferior claram Pythonissa apparet ad aram,

Fertque tibi cautè, dicatque Superbia! lautè,

Dona venusta; oris, quae cunctis, plena laboris,

Excerpta explorat, dominamque deamque decorat.

Pyxide devotâ, se pandit hic India tota,

Et tota existâ transpirat Arabia cistâ;

Testudo hic flectit, dum se mea Lesbia pectit;

Atque elephas lentè, te pectit Lesbia dente;

Hunc maculis nôris, nivei jacet ille coloris.

Hic jacet & mundè, mundus muliebris abundè;

Spinula resplendens aeris longo ordine pendens,

Pulvis suavis odore, & epistola suavis amore.

Induit arma ergo, Veneris pulcherrima virgo;

Pulchrior in praesens tempus de tempore crescens;

Jam reparat risus, jam surgit gratia visûs,

Jam promit cultu, mirac'la latentia vultu.

Pigmina jam miscet, quo plus sua Purpura gliscet,

Et geminans bellis splendet magè fulgor ocellis.

Stant Lemures muti, Nymphae intentique saluti,

Hic figit Zonam, capiti locat ille Coronam,

Haec manicis formam, plicis dat & altera normam;

Et tibi vel Betty, tibi vel nitidissima Letty!

Gloria factorum temerè conceditur horum,

HEALTH, an ECLOGUE.

NOW early Shepherds o'er the Meadow pass,

And print long Foot-steps in the glittering Grass;

The Cows neglectful of their Pasture stand,

By turns obsequious to the Milker's Hand.

When Damon softly trod the shaven Lawn,

Damon a Youth from City Cares withdrawn;

Long was the pleasing Walk he wander'd thro',

A cover'd Arbour clos'd the distant view;

There rests the Youth, and while the feather'd Throng

Raise their wild Musick, thus contrives a Song.

Here wafted o'er by mild Etesian Air,

Thou Country Goddess, beauteous Health! repair;

Here let my Breast thro' quiv'ring Trees inhale

Thy rosy Blessings with the Morning Gale.

What are the Fields, or Flow'rs, or all I see?

Ah! tastless all, if not enjoy'd with thee.

Joy to my Soul! I feel the Goddess nigh,

The Face of Nature cheers as well as I;

O'er the flat Green refreshing Breezes run,

The smiling Dazies blow beneath the Sun,

The Brooks run purling down with silver Waves,

The planted Lanes rejoice with dancing Leaves,

The chirping Birds from all the Compass rove

To tempt the tuneful Echoes of the Grove:

High sunny Summits, deeply shaded Dales,

Thick Mossy Banks, and flow'ry winding Vales,

With various Prospect gratify the Sight,

And scatter fix'd Attention in Delight.

Come, Country Goddess, come, nor thou suffice,

But bring thy Mountain-Sister, Exercise.

Call'd by thy lively Voice, she turns her Pace,

Her winding Horn proclaims the finish'd Chace;

She mounts the Rocks, she skims the level Plain,

Dogs, Hawks, and Horses, crow'd her early Train;

Her hardy Face repels the tanning Wind,

And Lines and Meshes loosely float behind.

All these as Means of Toil the Feeble see,

But these are helps to Pleasure join'd with thee.

Let Sloth lye softning'till high Noon in Down,

Or lolling fan her in the sult'ry Town,

Unnerv'd with Rest; and turn her own Disease,

Or foster others in luxurious Ease:

I mount the Courser, call the deep mouth'd Hounds,

The Fox unkennell'd flies to covert Grounds;

I lead where Stags thro' tangled Thickets tread,

And shake the Saplings with their branching Head;

I make the Faulcons wing their airy Way,

And soar to seize, or stooping strike their Prey;

To snare the Fish I fix the luring Bait;

To wound the Fowl I load the Gun with Fate.

'Tis thus thro' change of Exercise I range,

And Strength and Pleasure rise from ev'ry Change.

Here beauteous Health for all the Year remain,

When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.

Oh come, thou Goddess of my rural Song,

And bring thy Daughter, calm Content, along,

Dame of the ruddy Cheek and laughing Eye,

From whose bright Presence Clouds of Sorrow fly:

For her I mow my Walks, I platt my Bow'rs,

Clip my low Hedges, and support my Flow'rs;

To welcome her, this Summer Seat I drest,

And here I court her when she comes to Rest;

When she from Exercise to learned Ease

Shall change again, and teach the Change to please.

Now Friends conversing my soft Hours refine,

And Tully's Tusculum revives in mine:

Now to grave Books I bid the Mind retreat,

And such as make me rather Good than Great.

Or o'er the Works of easy Fancy rove,

Where Flutes and Innocence amuse the Grove:

The native Bard that on Sicilian Plains

First sung the lowly Manners of the Swains;

Or Maro's Muse, that in the fairest Light

Paints rural Prospects and the Charms of Sight;

These soft Amusements bring Content along,

And Fancy, void of Sorrow, turns to Song.

Here beauteous Health for all the Year remain,

When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.

The FLIES. An ECLOGUE.

WHEN in the River Cows for Coolness stand,

And Sheep for Breezes seek the lofty Land,

A Youth whom Aesop taught that ev'ry Tree

Each Bird and Insect spoke as well as he:

Walk'd calmly musing in a shaded Way

Where flow'ring Hawthorn broke the sunny Ray,

And thus instructs his Moral Pen to draw

A Scene that obvious in the Field he saw.

Near a low Ditch, where shallow Waters meet,

Which never learnt to glide with liquid Feet,

Whose Naiads never prattle as they play,

But screen'd with Hedges slumber out the Day,

There stands a slender Fern's aspiring Shade,

Whose answ'ring Branches regularly layd

Put forth their answ'ring Boughs, and proudly rise

Three Stories upward, in the nether Skies.

For Shelter here, to shun the Noon-day Heat,

An airy Nation of the Flies retreat;

Some in soft Air their silken Pinions ply,

And some from Bough to Bough delighted fly,

Some rise, and circling light to perch again;

A pleasing Murmur hums along the Plain.

So, when a Stage invites to pageant Shows,

(If great and small are like) appear the Beaus,

In Boxes some with spruce Pretension sit,

Some change from Seat to Seat within the Pit,

Some roam the Scenes, or turning cease to roam;

Preluding Musick fills the lofty Dome.

When thus a Fly (if what a Fly can say

Deserves attention) rais'd the rural Lay.

Where late Aminter made a Nymph a Bride,

Joyful I flew by young Favonia's side,

Who, mindless of the Feasting, went to sip

The balmy Pleasure of the Shepherd's Lip.

I saw the Wanton, where I stoop'd to sup,

And half resolv'd to drown me in the Cup;

'Till brush'd by careless Hands, she soar'd above:

Cease, Beauty, cease to vex a tender Love.

Thus ends the Youth, the buzzing Meadow rung,

And thus the Rival of his Musick sung.

When Suns by thousands shone in Orbs of Dew,

I wafted soft with Zephyretta flew;

Saw the clean Pail, and sought the milky Chear,

While little Daphne seiz'd my roving Dear.

Wretch that I was! I might have warn'd the Dame,

Yet sat indulging as the Danger came,

But the kind Huntress left her free to soar:

Ah! guard, ye Lovers, guard a Mistress more.

Thus from the Fern, whose high-projecting Arms,

The fleeting Nation bent with dusky Swarms,

The Swains their Love in easy Musick breathe,

When Tongues and Tumult stun the Field beneath.

Black Ants in Teams come darkning all the Road,

Some call to march, and some to lift the Load;

They strain, they labour with incessant Pains

Press'd by the cumbrous weight of single Grains.

The Flies struck silent gaze with Wonder down:

The busy Burghers reach their earthy Town;

Where lay the Burthens of a wint'ry Store,

And thence unwearied part in search more.

Yet one grave Sage a Moment's space attends,

And the small City's loftiest Point ascends,

Wipes the salt Dew that trickles down his Face,

And thus harangues them with the gravest Grace.

Ye foolish Nurslings of the Summer Air,

These gentle Tunes and whining Songs forbear;

Your Trees and whisp'ring Breeze, your Grove and Love.

Your Cupids Quiver, and his Mother's Dove,

Let Bards to Business bend their vig'rous Wing,

And sing but seldom, if they love to sing:

Else, when the Flourets of the Season fail,

And this your Ferny Shade forsakes the Vale,

Tho' one would save ye, not one Grain of Wheat

Shou'd pay such Songsters idling at my Gate.

He ceas'd: The Flies, incorrigibly vain,

Heard the May'r's Speech, and fell to sing again.

AN ELEGY, To an Old BEAUTY.

IN vain, poor Nymph, to please our youthful sight

You sleep in Cream and Frontlets all the Night,

Your Face with Patches soil, with Paint repair,

Dress with gay Gowns, and shade with foreign Hair.

If Truth in spight of Manners must be told,

Why really Fifty Five is something old.

Once you were young; or one, whose Life's so long

She might have born my Mother, tells me wrong.

And once (since Envy's dead before you dye,)

The Women own, you play'd a sparkling Eye,

Taught the light Foot a modish little Trip,

And pouted with the prettiest purple Lip—

To some new Charmer are the Roses fled,

Which blew, to damask all thy Cheek with red;

Youth calls the Graces there to fix their Reign,

And Airs by thousands fill their easy Train.

So parting Summer bids her flow'ry Prime

Attend the Sun to dress some foreign Clime,

While with'ring Seasons in Succession, here,

Strip the gay Gardens, and deform the Year.

But thou (since Nature bids) the World resign,

'Tis now thy Daughter's Daughter's time to shine.

With more Address, (or such as pleases more)

She runs her Female Exercises o'er,

Unfurls or closes, raps or turns the Fan,

And smiles, or blushes at the Creature Man.

With quicker Life, as guilded Coaches pass,

In sideling Courtesy the drops the Glass.

With better Strength, on Visit-days she bears

To mount her fifty Flights of ample Stairs.

Her Mein, her Shape, her Temper, Eyes and Tongue

Are sure to conquer.—for the Rogue is young;

And all that's madly wild, or oddly gay,

We call it only pretty Fanny's way.

Let Time that makes you homely, make you sage,

The Sphere of Wisdom is the Sphere of Age.

'Tis true, when Beauty dawns with early Fire,

And hears the flatt'ring Tongues of soft Desire,

If not from Virtue, from its gravest Ways

The Soul with pleasing Avocation strays.

But Beauty gone, 'tis easier to be wise;

As Harpers better, by the loss of Eyes.

Henceforth retire, reduce your roving Airs,

Haunt less the Plays, and more the publick Pray'rs,

Reject the Mechlin Head, and gold Brocade,

Go pray, in sober Norwich Crape array'd.

Thy pendent Diamonds let thy Fanny take,

(Their trembling Lustre shows how much you shake;)

Or bid her wear thy Necklace row'd with Pearl,

You'll find your Fanny an obedient Girl.

So for the rest, with less Incumbrance hung,

You walk thro' Life, unmingled with the young;

And view the Shade and Substance as you pa•s

With joint Endeavour trifling at the Glass,

Or Folly drest, and rambling all her Days,

To meet her Counterpart, and grow by Praise:

Yet still sedate your self, and gravely plain,

You neither fret, nor envy at the Vain.

'Twas thus (if Man with Woman we compare)

The wise Athenian crost a glittering Fair,

Unmov'd by Tongues and Sights, hewalk'd the place,

Thro' Tape, Toys, Tinsel, Gimp, Perfume, and Lace;

Then bends from Mars's Hill his awful Eyes,

And What a World I never want? he cries;

But cries unheard: For Folly will be free.

So parts the buzzing gaudy Crowd, and He:

As careless he for them, as they for him;

He wrapt in Wisdom, and they whirl'd by Whim.

The BOOK-WORM.

COME hither, Boy, we'll hunt to Day

The Book-Worm, ravening Beast of Prey,

Produc'd by Parent Earth, at odds

(As Fame reports it) with the Gods.

Him frantick Hunger wildly drives

Against a thousand Authors Lives:

Thro' all the Fields of Wit he flies;

Dreadful his Head with clust'ring Eyes,

With Horns without, and Tusks within,

And Scales to serve him for a Skin.

Observe him nearly, lest he climb

To wound the Bards of antient Time,

Or down the Vale of Fancy go

To tear some modern Wretch below:

On ev'ry Corner fix thine Eye,

Or ten to one he slips thee by.

See where his Teeth a Passage eat:

We'll rouse him from the deep Retreat.

But who the Shelter's forc'd to give?

'Tis Sacred Virgil as I live!

From Leaf to Leaf, from Song to Song,

He draws the tadpole Form along,

He mounts the gilded Edge before,

He's up, he scuds the Cover o'er,

He turns, he doubles, there he past,

And here we have him, caught at last.

Insatiate Brute, whose Teeth abuse

The sweetest Servants of the Muse.

(Nay never offer to deny,

I took thee in the Fact to fly.)

His Roses nipt in ev'ry Page,

My poor Anacreon mourns thy Rage.

By thee my Ovid wounded lies;

By thee my Lesbia's Sparrow dies:

Thy rabid Teeth have half destroy'd

The Work of Love in Biddy Floyd,

They rent Belinda's Locks away,

And spoil'd the Blouzelind of Gay.

For all, for ev'ry single Deed,

Relentless Justice bids thee bleed.

Then fall a Victim to the Nine,

My self the Priest, my Desk the Shrine.

Bring Homer, Virgil, Tasso near,

To pile a sacred Altar here;

Hold, Boy, thy Hand out-run thy Wit,

You reach'd the Plays that D—s writ;

You reach'd me Ph—s rustick Strain;

Pray take your mortal Bards again.

Come bind the Victim,—there he lies,

And here between his num'rous Eyes

This venerable Dust I lay,

From Manuscripts just swept away.

The Goblet in my Hand I take,

(For the Libation's yet to make)

A Health to Poets! all their Days

May they have Bread, as well as Praise;

Sense may they seek, and less engage

In Papers fill'd with Party-Rage.

But if their Riches spoil their Vein

Ye Muses, make them poor again.

Now bring the Weapon, yonder Blade,

With which my tuneful Pens are made.

I strike the Scales that arm thee round,

And twice and thrice I print the Wound;

The sacred Altar floats with red,

And now he dies, and now he's dead.

How like the Son of Jove I stand,

This Hydra stretch'd beneath my Hand!

Lay bare the Monster's Entrails here,

To see what Dangers threat the Year:

Ye Gods! what Sonnets on a Wench?

What lean Translations out of French?

Tis plain, this Lobe is so unsound,

S—prints, before the Months go round.

But hold, before I close the Scene,

The sacred Altar shou'd be clean.

Oh had I Sh—ll's Second Bays,

Or T—! thy pert and humble Lays!

(Ye Pair, forgive me, when I vow

I never miss'd your Works till now)

I'd tear the Leaves to wipe the Shrine,

(That only way you please the Nine)

But since I chance to want these two,

I'll make the Songs of D—y do.

Rent from the Corps, on yonder Pin,

I hang the Scales that brac't it in;

I hang my studious Morning Gown,

And write my own Inscription down.

'This Trophy from the Python won,

'This Robe, in which the Deed was done,

'These, Parnell glorying in the Feat,

'Hung on these Shelves, the Muses Seat.

'Here Ignorance and Hunger found

'Large Realms of Wit to ravage round;

'Here Ignorance and Hunger fell;

'Two Foes in one I sent to Hell.

'Ye Poets, who my Labours see,

'Come share the Triumph all with me!

'Ye Criticks! born to vex the Muse,

'Go mourn the grand Ally you lose.

An ALLEGORY on MAN.

A Thoughtful Being, long and spare,

Our Race of Mortals call him Care:

(Were Homer living, well he knew

What Name the Gods have call'd him too)

With fine Mechanick Genius wrought,

And lov'd to work, tho' no one bought.

This Being, by a Model bred

In Jove's eternal sable Head,

Contriv'd a Shape impow'rd to breathe,

And be the Worldling here beneath.

The Man rose staring, like a Stake;

Wond'ring to see himself awake!

Then look'd so wise, before he knew

The Bus'ness he was made to do;

That pleas'd to see with what a Grace

He gravely shew'd his forward Face,

Jove talk'd of breeding him on high,

An Under-something of the Sky.

But e'er he gave the mighty Nod,

Which ever binds a Poet's God:

(For which his Curls Ambrosial shake,

And Mother Earth's oblig'd to quake:)

He saw old Mother Earth arise,

She stood confess'd before his Eyes;

But not with what we read she wore,

A Castle for a Crown before,

Nor with long Streets and longer Roads

Dangling behind her, like Commodes:

As yet with Wreaths alone she drest,

And trail'd a Landskip-painted Vest.

Then thrice she rais'd, (as Ovid said)

And thrice she bow'd, her weighty Head.

Her Honours made, Great Jove, she cry'd,

This Thing was fashion'd from my Side;

His Hands, his Heart, his Head are mine;

Then what hast thou to call him thine?

Nay rather ask, the Monarch said,

What boots his Hand, his Heart, his Head,

Were what I gave remov'd away?

Thy Part's an idle Shape of Clay.

Halves, more than Halves! cry'd honest Care,

Your Pleas wou'd make your Titles fair,

You claim the Body, you the Soul,

But I who join'd them, claim the whole.

Thus with the Gods Debate began,

On such a trivial Cause, as Man.

And can Celestial Tempers rage?

(Quoth Virgil in a later Age.)

As thus they wrangled, Time came by;

(There's none that paint him such as I,

For what the Fabling Antients sung

Makes Saturn old, when Time was young.)

As yet his Winters had not shed

Their silver Honours on his Head;

He just had got his Pinions free

From his old Sire Eternity.

A Serpent girdled round he wore,

The Tail within the Mouth before;

By which our Almanacks are clear

That learned Aegypt meant the Year.

A Staff he carry'd, where on high

A Glass was fix'd to measure by,

As Amber Boxes made a Show

For Heads of Canes an Age ago.

His Vest, for Day, and Night, was py'd;

A bending Sickle arm'd his Side;

And Spring's new Months his Train adorn;

The other Seasons were unborn.

Known by the Gods, as near he draws,

They make him Umpire of the Cause.

O'er a low Trunk his Arm he laid,

(Where since his Hours a Dial made;)

Then leaning heard the nice Debate,

And thus pronounc'd the Words of Fate.

Since Body from the Parent Earth,

And Soul from Jove receiv'd a Birth,

Return they where they first began;

But since their Union makes the Man,

'Till Jove and Earth shall part these two,

To Care who join'd them, Man is due.

He said, and sprung with swift Career

To trace a Circle for the Year;

Where ever since the Seasons wheel,

And tread on one another's Heel.

'Tis well, said Jove, and for consent,

Thund'ring he shook the Firmament.

Our Umpire Time shall have his Way,

With Care I let the Creature stay:

Let Bus'ness vex him, Av'rice blind,

Let Doubt and knowledge rack his Mind,

Let Error act, Opinion speak,

And Want afflict, and Sickness break,

And Anger burn, Dejection chill,

And Joy distract, and Sorrow kill.

'Till arm'd by Care and taught to Mow,

Time draws the long destructive Blow;

And wasted Man, whose quick decay

Comes hurrying on before his Day,

Shall only find, by this Decree,

The Soul flies sooner back to Me.

An Imitation of some FRENCH Verses.

RElentless Time! destroying Pow'r

Whom Stone and Brass obey,

Who giv'st to ev'ry flying Hour

To work some new Decay;

Unheard, unheeded, and unseen,

Thy secret Saps prevail,

And ruin Man, a nice Machine

By Nature form'd to fail.

My Change arrives; the Change I meet,

Before I thought it nigh.

My Spring, my Years of Pleasure fleet,

And all their Beauties dye.

In Age I search, and only find

A poor unfruitful Gain,

Grave Wisdom stalking slow behind,

Oppress'd with loads of Pain.

My Ignorance cou'd once beguile,

And fancy'd Joys inspire;

My Errors cherish'd Hope to smile

On newly-born Desire.

But now Experience shews, the Bliss

For which I fondly sought,

Not worth the long impatient Wish,

And Ardour of the Thought.

My Youth met Fortune fair array'd,

(In all her Pomp she shone)

And might, perhaps, have well essay'd

To make her Gifts my own:

But when I saw the Blessings show'r

On some unworthy Mind,

I left the Chace, and own'd he Pow'r

Was justly painted blind.

I pass'd the Glories which adorn

The splendid Courts of Kings,

And while the Persons mov'd my Scorn,

I rose to scorn the Things.

My Manhood felt a vig'rous Fire

By Love encreas'd the more;

But Years with coming Years conspire

To break the Chains I wore.

In Weakness safe, the Sex I see

With idle Lustre shine;

For what are all their Joys to me,

Which cannot now be mine?

But hold— I feel my Gout decrease,

My Troubles laid to rest,

And Truths which wou'd disturb my Peace

Are painful Truths at best.

Vainly the Time I have to roll

In sad Reflection flies;

Ye fondling Passions of my Soul!

Ye sweet Deceits! arise.

I wisely change the Scene within;

To Things that us'd to please;

In Pain, Philosophy is Spleen,

In Health, 'tis only Ease.

A NIGHT-PIECE on DEATH.

BY the blue Tapers trembling Light,

No more I waste the wakeful Night,

Intent with endless view to pore

The Schoolmen and the Sages o'er:

Their Books from Wisdom widely stray,

Or point at best the longest Way.

I'll seek a readier Path, and go

Where Wisdom's surely taught below.

How deep yon Azure dies the Sky!

Where Orbs of Gold unnumber'd lye,

While thro' their Ranks in silver pride

The nether Crescent seems to glide.

The slumb'ring Breeze forgets to breathe,

The Lake is smooth and clear beneath,

Where once again the spangled Show

Descends to meet our Eyes below.

The Grounds which on the right aspire,

In dimness from the View retire:

The Left presents a Place of Graves,

Whose Wall the silent Water laves.

That Steeple guides thy doubtful sight

Among the livid gleams of Night.

There pass with melancholy State,

By all the solemn Heaps of Fate,

And think, as softly-sad you tread

Above the venerable Dead,

Time was, like thee they Life possest,

And Time shall be, that thou shalt Rest.

Those Graves, with bending Osier bound,

That nameless heave the crumbled Ground,

Quick to the glancing Thought disclose

Where Toil and Poverty repose.

The flat smooth Stones that bear a Name,

The Chissels slender help to Fame,

(Which e'er our Sett of Friends decay

Their frequent Steps may wear away.)

A middle Race of Mortals own,

Men, half ambitious, all unknown.

The Marble Tombs that rise on high,

Whose Dead in vaulted Arches lye,

Whose Pillars swell with sculptur'd Stones,

Arms, Angels, Epitaphs and Bones,

These (all the poor Remains of State)

Adorn the Rich, or praise the Great;

Who while on Earth in Fame they live,

Are sensless of the Fame they give.

Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades,

The bursting Earth unveils the Shades!

All slow, and wan, and wrap'd with Shrouds,

They rise in visionary Crouds,

And all with sober Accent cry,

Think, Mortal, what it is to dye,

Now from yon black and fun'ral Yew,

That bathes the Charnel House with Dew,

Methinks I hear a Voice begin;

(Ye Ravens, cease your croaking Din,

Ye tolling Clocks, no Time resound

O'er the long Lake and midnight Ground)

It sends a Peal of hollow Groans,

Thus speaking from among the Bones.

When Men my Scythe and Darts supply,

How great a King of Fears am I!

They view me like the last of Things:

They make, and then they dread, my Stings.

Fools! if you less provok'd your Fears,

No more my Spectre-Form appears.

Death's but a Path that must be trod,

If Man wou'd ever pass to God:

A Port of Calms, a State of Ease

From the rough Rage of swelling Seas.

Why then thy flowing sable Stoles,

Deep pendent Cypress, mourning Poles,

Loose Scarfs to fall athwart thy Weeds,

Long Palls, drawn Herses, cover'd Steeds,

And Plumes of black, that as they tread,

Nod o'er the 'Scutcheons of the Dead?

Nor can the parted Body know,

Nor wants the Soul, these Forms of Woe:

As Men who long in Prison dwell,

With Lamps that glimmer round the Cell,

When c'er their suffering Years are run,

Spring forth to greet the glitt'ring Sun:

Such Joy, tho' far transcending Sense,

Have pious Souls at parting hence.

On Earth, and in the Body plac't,

A few, and evil Years, they wast:

But when their Chains are cast aside,

See the glad Scene unfolding wide,

Clap the glad Wing and tow'r away,

And mingle with the Blaze of Day.

A HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.

LOvely, lasting Peace of Mind!

Sweet Delight of human kind!

Heavenly born, and bred on high,

To crown the Fav'rites of the Sky

With more of Happiness below,

Than Victors in a Triumph know!

Whither, O whither art thou fled,

To lay thy meek, contented Head?

What happy Region dost thou please

To make the Seat of Calms and Ease?

Ambition searches all its Sphere

Of Pomp and State, to meet thee there.

Encreasing Avarice would find

Thy Presence in its Gold enshrin'd.

The bold Advent'rer ploughs his way,

Thro' Rocks amidst the foaming Sea,

To gain thy Love; and then perceives

Thou wert not in the Rocks and Waves.

The silent Heart which Grief assails,

Treads soft and lonesome o'er the Vales,

Sees Daisies open, Rivers run,

And seeks (as I have vainly done)

Amusing Thought; but learns to know

That Solitude's the Nurse of Woe.

No real Happiness is found

In trailing Purple o'er the Ground:

Or in a Soul exalted high,

To range the Circuit of the Sky,

Converse with Stars above, and know

All Nature in its Forms below;

The Rest it seeks, in seeking dies,

And Doubts at last for Knowledge rise.

Lovely, lasting Peace appear!

This World it self, if thou art here,

Is once again with Eden bless'd,

And Man contains it in his Breast.

'Twas thus, as under Shade I stood,

I sung my Wishes to the Wood,

And lost in Thought, no more perceiv'd

The Branches whisper as they wav'd:

It seem'd, as all the quiet Place

Confess'd the Presence of the Grace.

When thus she spoke— Go rule thy Will,

Bid thy wild Passions all be still,

Know God—and bring thy Heart to know,

The Joys which from Religion flow:

Then ev'ry Grace shall prove its Guest,

And I'll be there to crown the rest.

Oh! by yonder Mossy Seat,

In my Hours of sweet Retreat;

Might I thus my Soul employ,

With sense of Gratitude and Joy:

Rais'd as antient Prophets were,

In heavenly Vision, Praise, and Pray'r;

Pleasing all Men, hurting none,

Pleas'd and bless'd with God alone:

Then while the Gardens take my Sight,

With all the Colours of Delight;

While silver Waters glide along,

To please my Ear, and court my Song:

I'll lift my Voice, and tune my String,

And thee, great Source of Nature, sing.

The Sun that walks his airy Way,

To light the World, and give the Day;

The Moon that shines with borrow'd Light;

The Stars that gild the gloomy Night;

The Seas that roll unnumber'd Waves;

The Wood that spreads its shady Leaves;

The Field whose Ears conceal the Grain,

The yellow Treasure of the Plain;

All of these, and all I see,

Shou'd be sung, and sung by me:

They speak their Maker as they can,

But want and ask the Tongue of Man.

Go search among your idle Dreams,

Your busy, or your vain Extreams;

And find a Life of equal Bliss,

Or own the next begun in This.

The HERMIT.

FAR in a Wild, unknown to publick View,

From Youth to Age a rev'rend Hermit grew;

The Moss his Bed, the Cave his humble Cell,

His Food the Fruits, his Drink the chrystal Well:

Remote from Man, with God he pass'd the Days,

Pray'r all his Bus'ness, all his Pleasure Praise.

A Life so sacred, such serene Repose,

Seem'd Heav'n it self, 'till one Suggestion rose;

That Vice shou'd triumph, Virtue Vice obey,

This sprung some Doubt of Providence's Sway:

His Hopes no more a certain Prospect boast,

And all the Tenour of his Soul is lost:

So when a smooth Expanse receives imprest

Calm Nature's Image on its wat'ry Breast,

Down bend the Banks, the Trees depending grow,

And Skies beneath with answ'ring Colours glow:

But if a Stone the gentle Scene divide,

Swift ruffling Circles curl on ev'ry side,

And glimmering Fragments of a broken Sun,

Banks, Trees, and Skies, in thick Disorder run.

To clear this Doubt, to know the World by Sight,

To find if Books, or Swains, report it right;

(For yet by Swains alone the World he knew,

Whose Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew)

He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-Staff he bore,

And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before;

Then with the Sun a rising Journey went,

Sedate to think, and watching each Event.

The Morn was wasted in the pathless Grass,

And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass;

But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the Day,

A Youth came posting o'er a crossing Way;

His Rayment decent, his Complexion fair,

And soft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair.

Then near approaching, Father Hail! he cry'd,

And Hail, my Son, the rev'rend Sire reply'd;

Words followed Words, from Question Answer flow'd

And Talk of various kind deceiv'd the Road;

'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,

While in their Age they differ; joyn in Heart:

Thus stands an aged Elm in Ivy bound,

Thus youthful Ivy clasps an Elm around.

Now sunk the Sun; the closing Hour of Day

Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray;

Nature in silence bid the World repose:

When near the Road a stately Palace rose:

There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they pass,

Whose Verdure crown'd their sloping sides of Grass.

It chanc't the noble Master of the Dome,

Still made his House the wand'ring Stranger's home:

Yet still the Kindness, from a Thirst of Praise,

Prov'd the vain Flourish of expensive Ease.

The Pair arrive: the Liv'ry'd Servants wait;

Their Lord receives them at the pompous Gate.

The Table groans with costly Piles of Food,

And all is more than Hospitably good.

Then led to rest, the Day's long Toil they drown,

Deep sunk in Sleep, and Silk, and Heaps of Down.

At length 'tis Morn, and at the Dawn of Day,

Along the wide Canals the Zephyrs play;

Fresh o'er the gay Parterres the Breezes creep,

And shake the neighb'ring Wood to banish Sleep.

Up rise the Guests, obedient to the Call,

'An early Banquet deck'd the splendid Hall;

Rich luscious Wine a golden Goblet grac't,

Which the kind Master forc'd the Guests to taste.

Then pleas'd and thankful, from the Porch they go,

And, but the Landlord, none had cause of Woe;

His Cup was vanish'd; for in secret Guise

The younger Guest purloin'd the glittering Prize.

As one who 'spys a Serpent in his Way,

Glistning and basking in the Summer Ray,

Disorder'd stops to shun the Danger near,

Then walks with Faintness on, and looks with Fear:

So seem'd the Sire; when far upon the Road,

The shining Spoil his wiley Partner show'd.

He stopp'd with Silence, walk'd with trembling Heart,

And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part:

Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard,

That generous Actions meet a base Reward.

While thus they pass, the Sun his Glory shrouds,

The changing Skies hang out their sable Clouds;

A Sound in Air presag'd approaching Rain,

And Beasts to covert scud a cross the Plain.

Warn'd by the Signs, the wand'ring Pair retreat,

To seek for Shelter at a neighb'ring Seat.

'Twas built with Turrets, on a rising Ground,

And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around;

Its Owner's Temper, tim'rous and severe,

Unkind and griping, caus'd a Desert there.

As near the Miser's heavy Doors they drew,

Fierce rising Gusts with sudden Fury blew;

The nimble Light'ning mix'd with Show'rs began,

And o'er their Heads loud-rolling Thunder ran.

Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain,

Driv'n by the Wind, and battered by the Rain.

At length some Pity warm'd the Master's Breast,

('Twas then, his Threshold first receiv'd a Guest)

Slow creaking turns the Door with jealous Care,

And half he welcomes in the shivering Pair;

One frugal Faggot lights the naked Walls,

And Nature's Fervor thro' their Limbs recals:

Bread of the coursest sort, with eager Wine,

(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine;

And when the Tempest first appear'd to cease,

A ready Warning bid them part in Peace.

With still Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd

In one so rich, a Life so poor and rude;

And why shou'd such, (within himself he cry'd,)

Lock the lost Wealth a thousand want beside?

But what new Marks of Wonder soon took place,

In ev'ry settling Feature of his Face!

When from his Vest the young Companion bore

That Cup, the gen'rous Landlord own'd before,

And paid profusely with the precious Bowl

The stinted Kindness of this churlish Soul.

But now the Clouds in airy Tumult fly,

The Sun emerging opes an azure Sky;

A fresher green the smelling Leaves display,

And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the Day:

The Weather courts them from the poor Retreat,

And the glad Master bolts the wary Gate.

While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's Bosom wrought,

With all the Travel of uncertain Thought;

His Partner's Acts without their Cause appear,

'Twas there a Vice, and seem'd a Madness here:

Detesting that, and pitying this he goes,

Lost and confounded with the various Shows.

Now Night's dim Shades again involve the Sky;

Again the Wand'rers want a Place to lye,

Again they search, and find a Lodging nigh.

The Soil improv'd around, the Mansion neat,

And neither poorly low, nor idly great:

It seem'd to speak its Master's turn of Mind,

Content, and not for Praise, but Virtue kind.

Hither the Walkers turn with weary Feet

Then bless the Mansion, and the Master greet:

Their greeting fair bestow'd, with modest Guise,

The courteous Master hears, and thus replies:

Without a vain, without a grudging Heart,

To Him who gives us all, I yield a part;

From Him you come, for Him accept it here,

A frank and sober, more than costly Cheer.

He spoke, and bid the welcome Table spread,

Then talk'd of Virtue till the time of Bed,

When the grave Houshold round his Hall repair,

Warn'd by a Bell, and close the Hours with Pray'r.

At length the World renew'd by calm Repose

Was strong for Toil, the dappled Morn arose;

Before the Pilgrims part, the Younger crept,

Near the clos'd Cradle where an Infant slept,

And writh'd his Neck: the Landlord's little Pride,

Ostrange Return! grew black, and gasp'd, and dy'd.

Horrour of Horrours! what! his only Son!

How look'd our Hermit when the Fact was done?

Not Hell, tho' Hell's black Jaws in sunder part,

And breathe blue Fire, cou'd more assault his Heart.

Confus'd, and struck with Silence at the Deed,

He flies, but trembling fails to fly with Speed.

His Steps the Youth pursues; the Country lay

Perplex'd with Roads, a Servant show'd the Way:

A River cross'd the Path; the Passage o'er

Was nice to find; the Servant trod before;

Long arms of Oaks an open Bridge supply'd,

And deep the Waves beneath the bending glide.

The Youth, who seem'd to watch a Time to sin,

Approach'd the careless Guide, and thrust him in;

Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his Head,

Then flashing turns, and sinks among the Dead.

Wild, sparkling Rage inflames the Father's Eyes,

He bursts the Bands of Fear, and madly cries,

Detested Wretch— But scarce his Speech began,

When the strange Partner seem'd no longer Man:

His youthful Face grew more serenely sweet;

His Robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his Feet;

Fair rounds of radiant Points invest his Hair;

Celestial Odours breathe thro' purpled Air;

And Wings, whose Colours glitter'd on the Day,

Wide at his Back their gradual Plumes display.

The Form Etherial bursts upon his Sight,

And moves in all the Majesty of Light.

Tho' loud at first the Pilgrim's Passion grew,

Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do;

Surprize in secret Chains his words suspends,

And in a Calm his settling Temper ends.

But Silence here the beauteous Angel broke,

(The Voice of Musick ravish'd as he spoke)

Thy Pray'r, thy Praise, thy Life to Vice unknown,

In sweet Memorial rise before the Throne:

These Charms, Success in our bright Region find,

And force an Angel down, to calm thy Mind;

For this commission'd, I forsook the Sky,

Nay, cease to kneel— Thy fellow Servant I.

Then know the Truth of Government Divine,

And let these Scruples be no longer thine.

The Maker justly claims that World he made,

In this the Right of Providence is laid;

Its sacred Majesty thro' all depends

On using second Means to work his Ends:

'Tis thus, withdrawn in State from human Eye,

The Pow'r exerts his Attributes on high,

Your Actions uses, not controuls your Will,

And bids the doubting Sons of Men be still.

What strange Events can strike with more Surprize,

Than those which latelystrook thy wond'ring Eyes?

Yet taught by these, confess th' Almighty Just,

And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!

The Great, Vain Man, who far'd on costly Food,

Whose Life was too luxurious to be good;

Who made his Iv'ry Stands with Goblets shine,

And forc'd his Guests to morning Draughts of Wine,

Has, with the Cup, the graceless Custom lost,

And still he welcomes, but with less of Cost.

The mean, suspicious Wretch, whose bolted Door,

Ne'er mov'd in Duty to the wand'ring Poor;

With him I left the Cup, to teach his Mind

That Heav'n can bless, if Mortals will be kind.

Conscious of wanting Worth, he views the Bowl,

And feels Compassion touch his grateful Soul.

Thus Artists melt the sullen Oar of Lead,

With heaping Coals of Fire upon its Head;

In the kind Warmth the Metal learns to glow,

And loose from Dross, the Silver runs below.

Long had our pious Friend in Virtue trod,

But now the Child half-wean'd his Heart from God;

(Child of his Age) for him he liv'd in Pain,

And measur'd back his Steps to Earth again.

To what Excesses had his Dotage run?

But God, to save the Father, took the Son.

To all but thee, in Fits he seem'd to go,

(And 'twas my Ministry to deal the Blow)

The poor fond Parent humbled in the Dust,

Now owns in Tears the Punishment was just.

But how had all his Fortune felt a Wrack,

Had that false Servant sped in Safety back?

This Night his treasur'd Heaps he meant to steal,

And what a Fund of Charity wou'd fail!

Thus Heav'n instructs thy Mind: This Tryal o'er,

Depart in Peace, resign, and sin no more.

On sounding Pinnions here the Youth withdrew,

The Sage stood wond'ring as the Seraph flew.

Thus look'd Elisha, when to mount on high,

His Master took the Chariot of the Sky;

The fiery Pomp ascending left the View;

The Prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too.

The bending Hermit here a Pray'r begun,

Lord! as in Heaven, on Earth thy Will be done.

Then gladly turning, sought his antient place,

And pass'd a Life of Piety and Peace.

FINIS.

VISIONS, Publish'd in the SPECTATORS, &c.

By the same Hand.

VISION I.
SPECTATOR. No. 460.

Decipimur Specie Recti—
Hor.

OUR Defects and Follies are too often unknown to us; nay, they are so far from being known to us, that they pass for Demonstrations of our Worth. This makes us easie in the midst of them, fond to shew them, fond to improve in them, and to be esteemed for them. Then it is that a thousand unaccountable Conceits, gay Inventions, and extravagant Actions must afford us Pleasures, and display us to others in the Colours which we our selves take a Fancy to glory in: And indeed there is something so amusing for the Time in this State of Vanity and ill-grounded Satisfaction, that even the wiser World has chosen an exalted Word to describe its Enchantments, and called it the Paradise of Fools.

Perhaps the latter Part of this Reflection may seem a false Thought to some, and bear another Turn than what I have given; but it is at present none of my Business to look after it, who am going to confess that I have been lately amongst them in a Vision.

Methought I was transported to a Hill, green, flowery, and of an easy Ascent. Upon the broad Top of it resided squint-eyed Errour, and popular Opinion with many Heads; two that dealt in Sorcery, and were famous for bewitching People with the Love of themselves. To these repaired a Multitude from every Side, by two different Paths which lead towards each of them. Some who had the most assuming Air went directly of themselves to Errour, without expecting a Conductor; others of a softer Nature went first to popular Opinion, from whence as she influenced and engaged them with their own Praises, she delivered them over to his Government.

When we had ascended to an open Part of the Summit where Opinion abode, we found her entertaining several who had arrived before us. Her Voice was pleasing; she breathed Odours as she spoke: She seemed to have a Tongue for every one; every one thought he heard of something that was valuable in himself, and expected a Paradise which she promised as the Reward of his Merit. Thus were we drawn to follow her, till she should bring us where it was to be bestowed: And it was observable, that all the Way we went, the Company was either praising themselves in their Qualifications, or one another for those Qualifications which they took to be conspicuous in their own Characters, or dispraising others for wanting theirs, or vying in the Degrees of them.

At last we approached a Bower, at the Entrance of which Errour was seated. The Trees were thick-woven, and the Place where he sat artfully contrived to darken him a little. He was disguised in a whitish Robe, which he had put on, that he might appear to us with a nearer Resemblance to Truth: And as she has a Light whereby she manifests the Beauties of Nature to the Eyes of her Adorers, so he had provided himself with a magical Wand, that he might do something in Imitation of it, and please with Delusions. This he lifted solemnly, and muttering to himself, bid the Glories which he kept under Enchantment to appear before us. Immediately we cast our Eyes on that part of the Sky to which he pointed, and observed a thin blue Prospect, which cleared as Mountains in a Summer Morning when the Mists go off, and the Palace of Vanity appeared to Sight.

The Foundation hardly seemed a Foundation, but a Set of curling Clouds, which it stood upon by magical Contrivance. The Way by which we ascended was painted like a Rainbow; and as we went the Breeze that played about us bewitched the Senses. The Walls were gilded all for Show; the lowest Set of Pillars were of the slight Fine Corinthian Order, and the Top of the Building being rounded, bore so far the Resemblance of a Bubble.

At the Gate the Travellers neither met with a Porter, nor waited till one should appear; every one thought his Merits a sufficient Passport, and pressed forward. In the Hall we met with several Phantoms, that rov'd amongst us, and rang'd the Company according to their Sentiments. There was decreasing Honour, that had nothing to shew in but an old Coat of his Ancestors Atchievements: There was Ostentation, that made himself his own constant Subject, and Gallantry strutting upon his Tip-toes. At the upper end of the Hall stood a Throne, whose Canopy glitter'd with all the Riches that Gayety could contrive to lavish on it; and between the gilded Arms sat Vanity deck'd in the Peacock's Feathers, and acknowledged for another Venus by her Votaries. The Boy who stood beside her for a Cupid, and who made the World to bow before her, was called Self-Conceit. His Eyes had every now and then a Cast in wards, to the Neglect of all Objects about him; and the Arms which he made use of for Conquest, were borrowed from those against whom he had a Design. The Arrow which he shot at the Soldier, was fledg'd from his own Plume of Feathers; the Dart he directed against the Man of Wit, was winged from the Quills he writ with; and that which he sent against those who presumed upon their Riches, was headed with Gold out of their Treasuries: He made Nets for Statesmen from their own Contrivances; he took Fire from the Eyes of Ladies, with which he melted their Hearts; and Lightning from the Tongues of the Eloquent, to enflame them with their own Glories. At the Foot of the Throne sat three false Graces. Flattery with a Shell of Paint, Affectation with a Mirrour to practise at, and Fashion ever changing the Posture of her Cloaths. These applied themselves to secure the Conquests which Self-Conceit had gotten, and had each of them their particular Polities. Flattery gave new Colours and Complexions to all Things, Affectation new Airs and Appearances, which, as she said, were not vulgar, and Fashion both concealed some home Defects, and added some foreign external Beauties.

As I was reflecting upon what I saw, I heard a Voice in the Crowd, bemoaning the Condition of Mankind, which is thus managed by the Breath of Opinion, deluded by Errour, fir'd by Self-Conceit, and given up to be trained in all the Courses of Vanity, till Scorn or Poverty come upon us. These Expressions were no sooner handed about, but I immediately saw a general Disorder, till at last there was a Parting in one Place, and a grave old Man decent and resolute, was led forward to be punished for the Words he had uttered. He appeared inclined to have spoken in his own Defence, but I could not observe that any one was willing to hear him. Vanity cast a scornful Smile at him; Self Conceit was angry; Flattery, who knew him for Plain-dealing, put on a Vizard, and turned away; Affectation tossed her Fan, made Mouths, and called him Envy or Slander; and Fashion would have it, that at least he must be Ill-Manners. Thus slighted and despised by all, he was driven out for abusing People of Merit and Figure; and I heard it firmly resolved, that he should be used no better where-ever they met with him hereafter.

I had already seen the meaning of most part of that Warning which he had given, and was considering how the latter Words should be fulfilled, when a mighty Noise was heard without, and the Door was blackned by a numerous Train of Harpies crowding in upon us. Folly and Broken Credit were seen in the House before they entered. Trouble, Shame, Infamy, Scorn and Poverty brought up the Rear. Vanity, with her Cupid and Graces, disappeared; her Subjects ran into Holes and Corners; but many of them were found and carried off (as I was told by one who stood near me) either to Prisons or Cellars, Solitude, or little Company, the mean Arts or the viler Crafts, of Life. But these, added he with a disdainful Air, are such who would fondly live here, when their Merits neither matched the Lustre of the Place, nor their Riches its Expences. We have seen such Scenes as these before now; the Glory you saw will all return when the Hurry is over. I thank'd him for his Information, and believing him so incorrigible as that he would stay till it was his Turn to be taken, I made off to the Door, and overtook some few, who, though they would not hearken to Plain-dealing, were now terrified to good purpose by the Example of others: But when they had touched the Threshold, it was a strange shock to them to find that the Delusion of Errour was gone, and they plainly discerned the Building to hang a little up in the Air without any real Foundation. At first we saw nothing but a desperate Leap remained for us, and I a thousand times blamed my unmeaning Curiosity that had brought me into so much Danger. But as they began to sink lower in their own Minds, methought the Palace sunk along with us, till they were arrived at the due Point of Esteem which they ought to have for themselves; then the Part of the Building in which they stood touched the Earth, and we departing out, it retired from our Eyes. Now, whether they who stayed in the Palace were sensible of this Descent, I cannot tell; it was then my Opinion that they were not. However it be, my Dream broke up at it, and has given me Occasion all my Life to reflect upon the fatal Consequences of following the Suggestions of Vanity.

VISION II.
SPECTATOR. No. 501.

HOW are we tortured with the Absence of what we covet to possess, when it appears to be lost to us! What Excursions does the Soul make in Imagination after it! and how does it turn into it self again, more foolishly fond and dejected, at the Disappointment! Our Grief, instead of having Recourse to Reason, which might restrain it, searches to find a further Nourishment. It calls upon Memory to relate the several Passages and Circumstances of Satisfactions which we formerly enjoyed; the Pleasures we purchased by those Riches that are taken from us; or the Power and Splendour of our departed Honours; or the Voice, the Words, the Looks, the Temper, and Affections of our Friends that are deceased. It needs must happen from hence, that the Passion should often swell to such a Size as to burst the Heart which contains it, if Time did not make these Circumstances less strong and lively, so that Reason should become a more equal Match for the Passion, or if another Desire which becomes more present did not overpower them with a livelier Representation. These are Thoughts which I had, when I fell into a kind of Vision upon this Subject, and may therefore stand for a proper Introduction to a Relation of it.

I found my self upon a naked Shore, with Company whose afflicted Countenances witnessed their Conditions. Before us flowed a Water deep, silent, and called the River of Tears, which issuing from two Fountains on an upper Ground, encompassed an Island that lay before us. The Boat which plied in it was old and shattered, having been sometimes overset by the Impatience and Haste of single Passengers to arrive at the other side. This immediately was brought to us by Misfortune who steers it, and we were all preparing to take our Places, when there appeared a Woman of a mild and composed Behaviour, who began to deter us from it, by representing the Dangers which would attend our Voyage. Hereupon some who knew her for Patience, and some of those too who till then cry'd the loudest, were persuaded by her, and return'd back. The rest of us went in, and she (whose Good-nature would not suffer her to forsake Persons in Trouble) desired Leave to accompany us, that she might at least administer some small Comfort or Advice while we sailed. We were no sooner embarked but the Boat, was pushed off, the Sheet was spread; and being filled with Sighs, which are the Winds of that Country, we made a Passage to the farther Bank thro' several Difficulties of which the most of us seem'd utterly regardless.

When we landed, we perceived the Island to be strangely over-cast with Fogs, which no Brightness could pierce, so that a kind of gloomy Horror sat always brooding over it. This had something in it very shocking to easy Tempers, insomuch that some others, whom Patience had by this time gain'd over, left us here, and privily convey'd themselves round the Verge of the Island to find a Ford by which she told them they might escape.

For my part, I still went along with those who were for piercing into the Centre of the Place; and joining our selves to others whom we found upon the same Journey, we marched solemnly as at a Funeral, thro' bordering Hedges of Rosemary, and thro' a Grove of Yew-Trees, which love to over-shadow Tombs and flourish in Church-Yards. Here we heard on every side the Wailings and Complaints of several of the Inhabitants, who had cast themselves disconsolately at the Feet of Trees; and as we chanc'd to approach any of these, we might perceive them wringing their Hands, beating their Breasts, tearing their Hair, or after some other manner visibly agitated with Vexation. Our Sorrows were heightned by the Influence of what we heard and saw, and one of our Number was wrought up to such a Pitch of Wildness, as to talk of hanging himself upon a Bough which shot temptingly across the Path we travelled in; but he was restrain'd from it by the kind Endeavours of our abovementioned Companion.

We had now gotten into the most dusky silent Part of the Island, and by the redoubled Sounds of Sighs, which made a doleful whistling in the Branches, the Thickness of Air which occasioned faintish Respiration, and the violent Throbbings of Heart which more and more affected us, we found that we approach'd the Grotto of Grief. It was a wide, hollow, and melancholy Cave, sunk deep in a Dale, and watered by Rivulets that had a Colour between Red and Black. These crept slow, and half congealed amongst its Windings, and mixed their heavy Murmur with the Echo of Groans that rolled thro' all the Passages. In the most retired part of it sat the doleful Being her self; the Path to her was strewed with Goads, Stings, and Thorns; and the Throne on which she sat was broken into a Rock with ragged Pieces pointing upwards for her to lean upon. A heavy Mist hung above her, her Head oppressed with it reclined upon her Arm: Thus did she reign over her disconsolate Subjects, full of her self to Stupidity, in eternal Pensiveness, and the profoundest Silence. On one side of her stood Dejection just dropping into a Swoon, and Paleness wasting to a Skeleton; on the other side were Care inwardly tormented with Imaginations, and Anguish suffering outward Troubles to suck the Blood from her Heart in the Shape of Vultures. The whole Vault had a genuine Dismalness in it, which a few scattered Lamps, whose blueish Flames arose and sunk in their Urns, discovered to our Eyes with Encrease. Some of us fell down, overcome and spent with what they suffered in the way, and were given over to those Tormentors that stood on either Hand of the Presence; others, galled and mortified with Pain, recover'd the Entrance, where Patience, whom we had left behind, was still waiting to receive us.

With her (whose Company was now become more grateful to us by the want we had found of her) we winded round the Grotto, and ascended at the Back of it, out of the mournful Dale in whose Bottom it lay. On this Eminence we halted, by her Advice, to pant for Breath; and lifting our Eyes, which till then were fixed downwards, felt a sullen sort of Satisfaction, in observing thro' the Shades what Numbers had entred the Island. This Satisfaction, which appears to have Ill-nature in it, was excusable, because it happened at a time when we were too much taken up with our own Concern, to have Respect to that of others; and therefore we did not consider them as suffering, but our selves as not suffering in the most forlorn Estate. It had also the Groundwork of Humanity and Compassion in it, though the Mind was then too deeply engaged to perceive it; but as we proceeded onwards it began to discover it self, and from observing that others were unhappy, we came to question one another, when it was that we met, and what were the sad Occasions that brought us together. Then we heard our Stories, we compared them, we mutually gave and received Pity, and so by degrees became tolerable Company.

A considerable Part of the troublesome Road was thus deceived; at length the Openings among the Trees grew larger, the Air seemed thinner, it lay with less Oppression upon us, and we could now and then discern Tracts in it of a lighter Greyness, like the Breakings of Day, short in Duration, much enlivening, and called in that Country Gleams of Amusement. Within a short while these Gleams began to appear more frequent, and then brighter and of a longer Continuance; the Sighs that hitherto filled the Air with so much Dolefulness, altered to the Sound of common Breezes, and in general the Horrors of the Island were abated.

When we had arrived at last at the Ford by which we were to pass out, we met with those fashionable Mourners who had been ferried over along with us, and who being unwilling to go as far as we, had coasted by the Shore to find the Place, where they waited our coming; that by shewing themselves to the World only at that time when we did, they might seem also to have been among the troubles of the Grotto. Here the Waters, that rolled on the other side so deep and silent, were much dried up, and it was an easier Matter for us to wade over.

The River being crossed, we were received upon the further Bank by our Friends and Acquaintance, whom Comfort had brought out to congratulate our Appearance in the World again. Some of these blamed us for staying so long away from them, others advised us against all Temptations of going back again; every one was cautious not to renew our Trouble, by asking any Particulars of the Journey; and all concluded, that in a Case of so much Affliction, we could not have made choice of a fitter Companion than Patience. Here Patience, appearing serene at her Praises, delivered us over to Comfort. Comfort smiled at his receiving the Charge; immediately the Sky purpled on that side to which he turned, and double Day at once broke in upon me.

VISION III.
GUARDIAN. No. 56.

Quid mentem traxisse polo, quid profuit altum

Erexisse caput? pecudum simore pererrant.

Claud.

I Was considering last Night, when I could not sleep, how noble a Part of the Creation Man was design'd to be, and how distinguished in all his Actions above other Earthly Creatures. From whence I fell to take a view of the Change and Corruption which he has introduced into his own Condition, the groveling Appetites, the mean Characters of Sense, and wild Courses of Passions, that cast him from the Degree in which Providence had placed him, the debasing himself with Qualifications not his own, and his degenerating into a lower Sphere of Action. This inspired me with a mixture of Contempt and Anger; which however, was not so violent as to hinder the Return of Sleep, but grew confused as that came upon me, and made me end my Reflections with giving Mankind the opprobrious Names of Inconsiderate, Mad and Foolish.

Here methought, where my waking Reason left the Subject, my Fancy pursued it in a Dream; and I imagined my self in a loud Soliloquy of Passion, railing at my Species, and walking hard to get rid of the Company I despised; when two Men who had over-heard me made up on either hand. These I observed had many Features in common, which might occasion the Mistake of the one for the other in those to whom they appear single, but I, who saw them together, could easily perceive, that tho' there was an Air of Severity in each, it was tempered with a natural Sweetness in the one, and by turns constrained or ruffled by the Designs of Malice in the other.

I was at a loss to know the Reason of their joining me so briskly, when he whose Appearance displeased me most, thus addressed his Companion. Pray, Brother, let him alone, and we shall immediately see him transformed into a Tyger. This struck me with Horror, which the other perceived, and pitying my Disorder, bid me be of good Courage, for tho' I had been Savage in my Treatment of Mankind, (whom I should rather reform than rail against) he would, however, endeavour to rescue me from my Danger. At this I looked a little more chearful, and while I testified my Resignation to him, we saw the angry Brother fling away from us in a Passion for his Disappointment. Being now left to my Friend, I went back with him at his Desire, that I might know the Meaning of those Words which so affrighted me.

As we went along, To inform you, says he, with whom you have this Adventure, my Name is Reproof and his Reproach, both born of the same Mother, but of different Fathers. Truth is our common Parent. Friendship, who saw her, fell in Love with her, and she being pleased with him, he begat me upon her; but a while after Enmity lying in Ambush for her, became the Father of him whom you saw along with me. The Temper of our Mother enclines us to the same sort of Business, the informing Mankind of their Faults; but the differing Complexions of our Fathers make us differ in our Designs and Company. I have a natural Benevolence in my Mind which engages me with Friends, and he a natural Impetuosity in his, which casts him among Enemies.

As he thus discoursed we came to a Place where there were three Entrances into as many several Walks, which lay beside one another. We passed into the middlemost, a plain, strait, regular Walk, set with Trees, which added to the Beauty of the Place, but did not so close their Boughs over head as to exclude the Light from it. Here as we walked I was made to observe, how the Road on one hand was full of Rocks and Precipices, over which Reproach (who had already gotten thither) was furiously driving unhappy Wretches; the other side was all laid out in Gardens of gaudy Tulips, amongst whose Leaves the Serpents wreath'd, and at the end of every grassy Walk the Enchantress Flattery was weaving Bowers to lull Souls asleep in. We continued still walking on the middle way, 'till we arrived in a Building in which it terminated. This was formerly erected by Truth for a Watch Tower, from whence she took a View of the Earth, and, as she saw occasion, sent out Reproof, or even Reproach, for our Reformation. Over the Door I took notice that a Face was carved with a Heart upon the Lips of it, and presently call'd to Mind that this was the Antients Emblem of Sincerity. In the Entrance I met with Freedom of Speech and Complaisance, who had for a long time looked upon one another as Enemies; but Reproof has so happily brought them together, that they now act as Friends and Fellow-Agents in the same Family. Before I ascended up the Stairs, I had my Eyes purified by a Water which made me see extremely clear, and I think they said it sprung in a Pit, from whence (as Democritus had reported) they formerly brought up Truth, who had hid her self in it. I was then admitted to the upper Chamber of Prospect, which was called the Knowledge of Mankind; here the Window was no sooner opened but I perceived the Clouds to roll off and part before me, and a Scene of all the Variety of the World presented it self.

But how different was Mankind in this View, from what it used to appear! Methought the very Shape of most of them was lost; some had the Heads of Dogs, others of Apes or Parrots, and in short, where-ever any one took upon him the inferior and unworthy Qualities of other Creatures, the Change of his Soul became visible in his Countenance. The strutting Pride of him who is endued with Brutality instead of Courage, made his Face shoot out in the Form of a Horse's; his Eyes became prominent, his Nostrils widened, and his Wig untying flowed down on one side of his Neck in a waving Mane. The Talkativeness of those who love the ill Nature of Conversation made them turn into Assemblies of Geese, their Lips hardened into Bills by eternal using, they gabbled for Diversion, they hiss'd in Scandal, and their Ruffles falling back on their Arms, a Succession of little Feathers appeared, which formed Wings for them to flutter with from one Visit to another. The Envious and Malicious lay on the Ground with the Heads of different sorts of Serpents, and not endeavouring to erect themselves, but meditating Mischief to others, they suck'd the Poison of the Earth, sharpened their Tongues to Stings upon the Stones, and rolled their Trains unperceivably beneath their Habits. The Hypocritical Oppressors wore the Faces of Crocodiles, their Mouths were Instruments of Cruelty, their Eyes of Deceit; they committed Wickedness, and bemoaned that there should be so much of it in the World; they devoured the Unwary, and wept over the Remains of them. The Covetous had so hook'd and worn their Fingers by counting Interest upon Interest, that they converted to the Claws of Harpies, and these they still were stretching out for more, yet seem'd unsatisfied with their Acquisitions. The Sharpers had the Looks of Camelions; they every Minute changed their Appearance, and fed on Swarms of Flies which fell as so many Cullies amongst them. The Bully seem'd a Dunghil Cock, he crested well, and bore his Comb aloft; he was beaten by almost every one, yet still sung for Triumph; and only the mean Coward prick'd up the Ears of a Hare to fly before him. Criticks were turned into Cats, whose Pleasure and Grumbling go together. Fops were Apes in embroider'd Jackets. Flatterers were curl'd Spaniels, fawning and crouching. The Crafty had the Face of a Fox, the Slothful of an Ass, the Cruel of a Wolf, the Ill-bred of a Bear, the Leachers were Goats, and the Gluttons Swine. Drunkenness was the only Vice that did not change the Face of its Professors into that of another Creature; but this I took to be far from a Privilege, for these two Reasons; because it sufficiently deforms them of it self, and because none of the lower Ranks of Beings is guilty of so foolish an Intemperance.

As I was taking a View of these Representations of Things, without any more Order than is usual in a Dream, or in the Confusion of the World it self, I perceived a Concern within me for what I saw; my Eyes began to moisten, and as if the Virtue of that Water with which they were purified was lost for a time, by their being touched with that which arose from a Passion, the Clouds immediately began to gather again, and close from either hand upon the Prospect. I then turned towards my Guide, who addressed himself to me after this manner. You have seen the Condition of Mankind when it descends from its Dignity; now therefore guard your self from that Degeneracy by a modest Greatness of Spirit on one side, and a conscious Shame on the other. Endeavour also with a Generosity of Goodness to make your Friends aware of it; let them know what Defects you perceive are growing upon them; handle the Matter as you see Reason, either with the Airs of severe or humorous Affection; sometimes plainly describing the Degeneracy in its full proper Colours, or at other times letting them know that if they proceed as they have begun, you give them to such a Day or so many Months to turn Bears, Wolves, or Foxes, &c. Neither neglect your more remote Acquaintance, where you see any worthy and susceptible of Admonition; expose the Beasts whose Qualities you see them putting on, where you have no mind to engage with their Persons. The Possibility of their applying this is very obvious: The Egyptians saw it so clearly, that they made the Pictures of Animals explain their Minds to one another instead of Writing; and indeed it is hardly to be missed, since Aesop took them out of their Mute Condition, and taught them to speak for themselves with relation to the Actions of Mankind.

VISION IV.
GUARDIAN. No. 66.

THERE is a Sett of Mankind, who are wholly employed in the Ill-natured Office of gathering up a Collection of Stories that lessen the Reputation of others, and spreading them Abroad with a certain Air of Satisfaction. Perhaps, indeed, an innocent and unmeaning Curiosity, a Desire of being informed concerning those we live with, or a Willingness to profit by Reflection upon the Actions of others, may sometimes afford an Excuse, or sometimes a Defence, for Inquisitiveness; but certainly it is beyond all Excuse, a Transgression against Humanity, to carry the Matter further, to tear off the Dressings, as I may say, from the Wounds of a Friend, and expose them to the Air in cruel Fits of Diversion; and yet we have something more to bemoan, an Outrage of an higher Nature, which mankind is guilty of when they are not content to spread the Stories of Folly, Frailty and Vice, but even enlarge them, or invent new ones, and blacken Characters that we may appear ridiculous or hateful to one another. From such Practices as these it happens, that some feel a Sorrow, and others are agitated with a Spirit of Revenge; that Scandals or Lies are told, because another has told such before; that Resentments and Quarrels arise, and Injuries are given, received, and multiplied, in a Scene of Vengeance.

All this I have often observed with abundance of Concern; and having a perfect Desire to further the Happiness of Mankind; I lately set my self to consider the Causes from whence such Evils arise, and the Remedies which may be applied. Whereupon I shut my Eyes to prevent Distraction from outward Objects, and a while after shot away, upon an Impulse of Thought, into the World of Ideas, where abstracted Qualities became visible in such Appearances as were agreeable to each of their Natures.

That part of the Country, where I happened to light, was the most noisy that I had ever known. The Winds whistled, the Leaves rustled, the Brooks rumbled, the Birds chatter'd, the Tongues of Men were heard, and the Echo mingled something of every Sound in its Repetition, so that there was a strange Confusion and Uproar of Sounds about me. At length, as the Noise still encreased, I could discern a Man habited like a Herald (and as I afterwards understood) called Novelty, that came forward proclaiming a Solemn Day to be kept at the House of Common Fame. Immediately behind him advanced three Nymphs, who had monstrous Appearances. The first of these was Curiosity, habited like a Virgin, and having an hundred Ears upon her Head to serve in her Enquiries. The Second of these was Talkativeness, a little better grown, she seemed to be like a young Wife, and had an hundred Tongues to spread her Stories. The Third was Censoriousness, habited like a Widow, and surrounded with an hundred Squinting Eyes of a malignant Influence, which so obliquely darted on all around, that it was impossible to say which of them had brought in the Informations she boasted of. These, as I was informed, had been very instrumental in preserving and rearing Common Fame, when upon her Birth-day she was shuffled into a Crowd, to escape the search which Truth might have made after her and her Parents. Curiosity found her there, Talkativeness convey'd her away, and Censoriousness so nursed her up, that in a short time she grew to a prodigious Size, and obtained an Empire over the Universe; wherefore the Power, in Gratitude for these Services, has since advanced them to her highest Employments. The next who came forward in this Procession was a light Damsel, called Credulity, who carried behind them the Lamp, the Silver Vessel with a Spout, and other Instruments proper for this Solemn Occasion. She had formerly seen these three together, and conjecturing from the number of their Ears, Tongues and Eyes, that they might be the proper Genii of Attention, Familiar Converse, and Ocular Demonstration, she from that time gave her self up to attend them. The last who followed were some who had closely muffled themselves in upper Garments, so that I could not discern who they were; but just as the foremost of them was come up, I am glad, says she, calling me by my Name, to meet you at this time, stay close by me, and take a strict Observation of all that passes. Her Voice was sweet and commanding, I thought I had somewhere heard it; and from her, as I went along, I learned the Meaning of every thing which offered.

We now marched forward thro' the Rookery of Rumours, which flew thick and with a terrible din all around us. At length we arrived at the House of Common Fame, where a Hecatomb of Reputations was that Day to fall for her Pleasure. The House stood upon an Eminence, having a thousand Passages to it, and a thousand whispering Holes for the Conveyance of Sound. The Hall we entered was formed with the Art of a Musick-Chamber for the Improvement of Noises. Rest and Silence are banished the Place. Stories of different Natures wander in light Flocks all about, sometimes Truths and Lies, or sometimes Lies themselves clashing against one another. In the middle stood a Table painted after the manner of the remotest Asiatick Countries, upon which the Lamp, the Silver Vessel, and Cups of a white Earth, were planted in order. Then dried Herbs were brought, collected for the Solemnity in Moonshine, and Water being put to them, there was a greenish Liquor made, to which they added the Flower of Milk, and an Extraction from the Canes of America, for performing a Libation to the infernal Powers of Mischief. After this, Curiosity, retiring to a withdrawing-Room, brought forth the Victims, being to Appearance a Sett of small waxen Images, which she laid upon the Table one after another. Immediately Talkativeness gave each of them the Name of some one, whom for the Time they were to represent; and Censoriousness stuck them all about with black Pins, still pronouncing at every one she stuck, something to the Prejudice of the Persons represented. No sooner were these Rites performed, and Incantations uttered, but the Sound of a Speaking Trumpet was heard in the Air, by which they knew the Deity of the Place was propitiated and assisting. Upon this the Sky grew darker, a Storm arose, and Murmurs, Sighs, Groans, Cries, and the Words of Grief or Resentment were heard within it. Thus the three Sorceresses discovered, that they, whose Names they had given to the Images, were already affected with what was done to them in Effigie. The Knowledge of this was received with loudest the Laughter, and in many Congratulatory Words they applauded one another's Wit and Power.

As Matters were at this high Point of Disorder, the muffled Lady, whom I attended on, being no longer able to endure such barbarous Proceedings, threw off her upper Garment of Reserve, and appeared to be Truth. As soon as she had confessed her self present, the Speaking-Trumpet ceas'd to Sound, the Sky cleared up, the Storm abated, the Noises which were heard in it ended, the Laughter of the Company was over, and a serene Light, till then unknown to the Place, was diffused around it. At this the detected Sorceresses endeavoured to escape in a Cloud which I saw began to thicken about them, but it was soon dispersed, their Charms being controled and prevailed over by the superior Divinity. For my Part I was exceedingly glad to see it so, and began to consider what Punishments she would inflict upon them. I fancied it would be proper to cut off Curiosity's Ears, and fix them to the Eaves of Houses, to nail the Tongue of Talkativeness to Indian Tables, and to put out the Eyes of Censoriousness with a Flash of her Light. In respect of Credulity I had indeed some little Pity, and had I been Judge she might, perhaps, have escaped with a hearty Reproof.

But I soon found that the discerning Judge had other Designs, she knew them for such as will not be destroyed intirely while Mankind is in Being, and yet ought to have a Brand and Punishment affixed to them that they may be avoided. Wherefore she took a Seat for Judgment, and had the Criminals brought forward by Shame ever blushing, and Trouble with a Whip of many Lashes, two Phantoms who had dogged the Procession in Disguise, and waited 'till they had an Authority from Truth to lay Hands upon them. Immediately then she ordered Curiosity and Talkativeness to be fettered together, that the one should never suffer the other to rest, nor the other ever let her remain undiscovered. Light Credulity she linkt to Shame at the Tormenter's own Request, who was pleased to be thus secure that her Prisoner could not escape; and this was done partly for her Punishment, and partly for her Amendment. Censoriousness was also in like manner begged by Trouble, and had her assign'd for an eternal Companion. After they were thus chain'd with one another, by the Judge's Order, she drove them from the Presence to wander for ever thro' the World, with Novelty stalking before them.

The Cause being now over, she retreated from sight within the Splendor of her own Glory, which leaving the House it had brightned, the Sounds that were proper to the Place began to be as loud and confused as when we entered, and there being no longer a clear distinguished Appearance of any Objects represented to me, I returned from the Excursion I had made in Fancy.

VISION V.

WHatever Industry and Eagerness the modern Discoverers have shewn for the Knowledge of new Countries, there yet remains an ample Field in the Creation to which they are utter Strangers, and which all the Methods of Travelling hitherto invented, will never bring them acquainted with. Of this I can give a very particular Instance in an Accident which lately happened to me.

As I was on the 6th of this Instant, being Febr. 1715, walking with my Eyes cast upward, I fell into a Reflection on the vast Tracts of Air which appear'd before me as uninhabited. And wherefore, said I to my self, shou'd all this Space be created? Can it only be for an odd Bird to fly through, as now and then a Man may pass a Desart? Or are there also Kingdoms with their particular Polities, and People of a Species which we know nothing of, ordain'd to live in it.

It was in this Manner I continued my Thought, when my Feet forsook the Level, and I was insensibly mounted in the Air, till I arriv'd at a footing as firm and level as what I had left. But with what Surprise did I find my self among Creatures distinct from us in Shape and Customs?

The Inhabitants are of a small Stature, below those which History describes for Pigmies. The tallest of them exceed not fourteen or fifteen Inches, and the least are hardly three. This difference proceeds only from their Growth before they are brought to Light; for after we never observe them to grow, unless it please their Parents, who have this uncommon Method of enabling them: They recall them to the Womb, where having been for some Time, they receive an Addition to their Bulk, then go back to their Houses, and continue at a Stand as they did before. The Experiment has been often try'd with Success, but some have suffered extremely by undergoing it.

Their Skins are like the antient Britains, all drawn over with a Variety of Figures. The Colour made use of for this end, is generally Black. I have indeed observ'd in some of the Religious, and Lawyers of the Country, Red here and there intermingl'd, tho' not so commonly of late. They tell me too, they often us'd to paint with all Colours; and I visited two or three of the old Inhabitants, who were adorn'd in that Fashion: But this is now disused, since the new Inventions, by which the use of a black Fountain that belongs to that Country, is render'd more useful and serviceable.

The Cloaths in which they go clad, are the Skins of Beasts, worn by some Plain, by others with Figures wrought upon them. Gold is also made use of by some, to beautify their Apparel; but very seldom Silver, unless, as Buckles are by us, for fastening the Garment before. I have seen some of them go like Seamen in thin blue Shirts, others like Indians in a party-colour'd loose kind of Apparel, and others who they told me were the Politicians of the Country, go about stark naked.

The Manner of dressing them is this: At first when they come into the World, they have a Suit given them, which if it do not fit exactly, is not, as with us, fitted up again, but the Children are in a cruel Manner cut and squeez'd to bring them to its Proportion. Yet this they seem not much to regard, provided their principal Parts are not affected. When the Dress is thus settled on them, they are clad for Life, it being seldom their Custom to alter it, or put it off: In short, they live in it Night and Day, and wear it to Rags rather than part with it, being sure of the same Torture, and a greater Danger if they shou'd be dress'd a second Time. I have further taken Notice, that they delight to go open Breasted, most of them shewing their Bosoms speckled. Some Lawyers indeed wear them quite White, perhaps for Distinction sake, or to be known at a Distance. But the finest Shew, is among the Beaux and Ladies, who mightily affect something of Gold, both before and behind them.

Food I never saw them eat; they being a People, who, as I observed, live in Air: Their Houses are all single and high, having no back Rooms, but frequently seven or eight Stories, which are all separate Houses above one another. They have one Gate to their City, and generally no Doors to their Houses; tho' I have sometimes seen them have particular Doors, and even made of Glass, where the Inhabitants have been observ'd to stand many Days, that their fine Apparel may be seen thro' them. If at any time they lye down, which they do when they come from their Habitations (as if coming Abroad were their greatest Fatigue) they will lie together in Heaps without receiving Hurt: Though the soundest Sleep they get, is when they can have Dust enough to cover them over.

The Females amongst them are but few, nothing being there produced by a Marriage of Sexes. The Males are of a different Strength or Endowment of Parts, some having Knowledge in an extream Degree, and others none at all; yet at the same Time, they are mighty Pretenders to instruct others. Their Names, (for as many as wou'd discover them to me) I observ'd to be the very same as ours are upon Earth; I met a few who made theirs a Mystery, but why, I am yet to learn. They are so communicative, that they will tell all the Knowledge they boast, if a Stranger apply himself to their Conversation: And this may be worth his while, if he considers that all Languages, Arts, and Sciences, are profest amongst them. I think I may say it without Vanity, that I knew a certain Talisman, with proper Figures and Characters inscrib'd, whereby their greatest People may be charm'd, brought to reside with a Man, and serve him like a Familiar in the Conduct of Life.

There is no such thing as fighting amongst them, but their Controversies are determin'd by Words, wherein they seldom own themselves conquer'd, yet proceed no further than two or three Replies: Perhaps indeed two others take up their Neighbour's Quarrel, but then they desist too after the same Manner; sometimes however, Blows have ensu'd upon their Account, though not amongst them: In such a Case they have descended to inspire Mankind with their Sentiments, and chosen Champions from among us, in order to decide it.

The Time of their Life is very different, some dye as soon as born, and others in their Youth; some get a new Lease of Life by their entring into the Womb again, and if any weather it out to a hundred Years, they generally live on to an extreme Age. After which it is remarkable, that instead of growing weaker as we do, by Time, they increase in Strength, and become at last so confirm'd in Health, that it is the Opinion of their Country, they never can perish while the World remains.

The Sicknesses which may take them off, besides what happens from their natural Weakness of Body, are of different Sorts. One is over-moisture, which affecting their Mansions, makes them lose their Complexions, become deform'd, and rot away insensibly: This is often obviated by their not keeping too much within Doors. Another is the Worms, which prey upon their Bowels: If they be maim'd by Accidents, they become, like us, so far useless; and that Maim will some time or other be the Occasion of their Ruin. However, they perish by these Means only in Appearance, and like Spirits, who vanish in one Place, to be seen in another. But as Men dye of Passions, so Disesteem is what the most nearly touches them; then they withdraw into, Holes and Corners, and consume away in Darkness. Or if they are kept alive a few Days by the force of Spices, it is but a short Reprieve from their perishing to Eternity; without any Honour, but that instead of a Burial, a small Pyre of Past shou'd be erected over them, while they, like the antient Romans, are reduc'd to Ashes.

N. B. This Vision is to be understood of a Library of Books.

FINIS.

ERRATA, In Pervigilio Veneris.

Pag. 48. vers. 2. pro spameo, lege spumeo. p. 50. v. 10. muae, lege mane. p. 56. v. 3. Detinent, & tota nox, lege Decinent—p. 64 .v. 4. Explicat acnii latus, lege Explicant tauri latus. p. 64. v. 9. Adsonant Terei puella, lege Adsonat Terei puella.

INDEX.

- HESIOD, or the Rise of Woman. Page 1

- Song. Page 18, 19, 21

- Anacreontick. Page 23, 28

- A Fairy Tale, in the ancient English Style. Page 32

- Pervigilium Veneris. Page 47

- The Vigil of Venus. Page 47

- Battle of the Frogs and Mice. Page 71

- To Mr. Pope. Page 105

- Part of the first Canto of the Rape of the Lock Translated. Page 112

- Health; an Eclogue. Page 116

- The Flies; an Eclogue. Page 122

- An Elegy. To an old Beauty. Page 128

- The Book-Worm. Page 134

- An Allegory on Man. Page 141

- In Imitation of some French Verses. Page 148

- A Night-piece on Death. Page 152

- A Hymn to Contentment. Page 158

- The Hermit. Page 164

VISIONS.

- VISIONS I. Page 183

- Vision II. Page 191

- Vision III. Page 199

- Vision IV. Page 207

- Vision V. Page 215

BOOKS printed for BERNARD LINTOT.

- MR. Pope's Homer in 6 Vol. 4to Royal, fol. and 12mo.

- — His Miscellaneous Poems.—

- Miscellany Poems, by his Grace of Buckingham, &c.

- Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany Poems.

- Mr. Fenton's Miscellaneous Poems.

- Dr. King's Miscellanies, 2 Vol.

- — His Art of Cookery, in Imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry.

- — His Art of Love, in Imitation of Ovid.

- Dryden's Art of Painting, Corrected by Mr. Pope, and Mr. Jervas.

- Wiqueforts complete Ambassador.

- Dr. Fiddes's Body of Divinity, 2 Vol.

- Dr. Keill's Astronomy, Corrected by Dr. Halley.

- The Works of Chaucer, in large and small Paper fol. with Cutts.

- Coke's Comment on Littleton The 11th Edition.

- Laurence of Gardening, with Cuts.

- James of Gardening, with Cuts.

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Title statement

Poems on several occasions: Written by Dr. Thomas Parnell, ... and published by Mr. Pope.

Parnell, Thomas, 1679-1718.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4106

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1106011058

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9781106011053

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K041605.000

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cw3310621431

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0187500300

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— Poems on several occasions: Written by Dr. Thomas Parnell, ... and published by Mr. Pope., Parnell, Thomas, 1679-1718.. [8],221,[3]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for B. Lintot,. 1722 [1721]. [With an index.] [Titlepage in red and black.] [Publication date from Foxon.] [Leaf D8 (pp. 47-48) is a cancel.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [Griffith, 130] [Foxon, p.554] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT42652.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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