A fhining Synod of majestic Gods
Gilds with new Lufter the divine Abodes, Heav'n feems improv'd with a fuperior Ray And the bright Arch reflects a double Day. Th' Almighty then his folemn Silence broke, The still Creation liften'd while he spoke, Each facred Accent bears eternal Weight, And each irrevocable Word is Fate.--
Behold the Earth, the gliding Streams, or Flood,
Faults are on all Sides, Bad is mixt with Good. Thus barren Seasons midst the best appear, And a fmall Turn blafts all the blooming Year. A Port turns Shelf, and the inglorious Sand Forfeits that Praise which once its Safety gain'd. Now Streams thro' Plains in fmooth Meanders play, Now force thro' Rocks, and roaring roll away.
How short, how trifling are the Joys of Life, If with the Evils that it brings compar'd! This is the Fate of Man, by Heav'n decreed That all his Pleafure fhall be mix'd with Pain, And lafting Woe fucceed each fhort Delight!
Ould'ft Thou to Honours and Preferments climb? Be bold in Mischief, dare fome mighty Crime, Which Dungeons, Death, or Banishment deferves ; For Virtue is but dryly prais'd, and starves.
Great Men, to great Crimes, owe their Plate embofs'd, Their Palaces, their Furniture of Coft,
And high Commands ;-a fneaking Sin is loft.-Dryd, What had he done, had he beheld, on high
Our Prætor feated, in mock Majefty: His Chariot rolling o'er the dufty Place, While with dumb Pride, and a fet formal Face,
In tunicâ Jovis, & pictæ Sarrana ferentem Ex humeris aulæa togæ, magnæque coronæ Tantum orbem, quanto cervix non fufficit ulla? Quippe tenet fudans hanc publicus, & (fibi Conful Ne placeat) curru fervus portatur eodem. Da nunc & volucrem, fceptro quæ furgit eburno, Illinc Cornicines, hinc præcedentia longi Agminis officia, & niveos ad fræna Quirites, Defoffa in loculis quos fportula fecit amicos.-
Si non aurea funt juvenum fimulacra per ædeis Lampadas igniferas manibus retinentia dextris, Lumina nocturnis epulis ut fuppeditentur,
Nec domus argento fulget, auróque renidet: Nec citharis reboant laqueata aurataque templa. Quin tamen inter fe proftrati in gramine molli, Propter aquæ rivum, fub ramis arboris altæ, Non magnis opibus jucundè corpora curant : Præfertim cùm tempeftas arridet, & anni Tempora confpergunt viridanteis floribus herbas, Nec calidæ citiùs decedunt corpora febres, Textilibus fi in picturis, oftróque rubenti Jactaris, quam fi plebeia in vefte cubandum 'st.
Quapropter, quoniam nil noftro in corpore gazæ Proficiunt, neque nobilitas, neque gloria regni: Quod fupereft, animo quoque nil prodeffe putandum; Sic nam forte tuas legiones per loca campi Fervere cum videas belli fimulacra cienteis; His tibi tum rebus timefacta relligiones Effugiunt animo pavidæ, mortifque timores: Tum vacuum pectus linquunt, curaque folutum. Quòd fi ridicula hæc, ludibrîaque effe videmus, Re veraque metus hominum, curæque fequaces,
He moves in the dull ceremonial Track, With Jove's embroider'd Coat upon his Back? A Suit of Hangings had not more opprefs'd His Shoulders, than that long laborious Veft. A heavy Gewgaw, (call'd a Crown,) that spread About his Temples, drown'd his narrow Head, And would have crufh'd it with the maffy Freight, But that a fweating Slave fuftain'd the Weight: A Slave in the fame Chariot seen to ride, To mortify the mighty Madman's Pride. Add now th' Imperial Eagle rais'd on high, With golden Beak, the Mark of Majefty: Trumpets before, and on the Left and Right, A Cavalcade of Nobles, all in white : In their own Nature falfe and flatt'ring Tribes, But made his Friends, by Places and by Bribes.- If golden Sconces hang not on the Walls, To light the coftly Suppers, and the Balls: If the proud Palace shines not with the State Of burnish'd Bowls, and of reflected Plate : If well-tun'd Harps, nor the more pleasing Sound Of Voices, from the vaulted Roofs rebound: Yet, on the Grafs, beneath a Poplar Shade, By the cool Stream, our careless Limbs are laid: With cheaper Pleasures innocently blefs'd, When the warm Spring with gawdy Flow'rs is drefs'd. Nor will the raging Fever's Fire abate,
With golden Canopies and Beds of State: But the poor Patient will as foon be found, On the hard Mattress, or the Mother-Ground. Then, fince our Bodies are not eas'd the more By Birth, or Pow'r, or Fortune's wealthy Store, 'Tis plain these useless Toys of ev'ry kind As little can relieve the lab'ring Mind: Unless we could fuppofe the dreadful Sight Of marshall'd Legions moving to the Fight, Could, with their Sound and terrible Array,
Expel our Fears, and drive the Thoughts of Death away. But, fince the Suppofition vain appears; Since clinging Cares, and Trains of inbred Fears,
Nec metuunt fonitus armorum, nec fera tela: Audacterque inter Reges, rerumque potenteis Verfantur: neque fulgorem reverentur ab auro, Nec clarum veftis fplendorem purpureaï :
Quid dubitas, quin omne fit hoc rationis egeftas?
Ofi pateant pectora Ditum: Quantos intus fublimis agit Fortuna metus! Brutia Coro Pulfante fretum mitior unda eft.-
Felix alius, magnúsque volet : Me nulla vocet turba potentem. Stringat tenuis littora puppis. Nec magna meos aura phafelos Jubeat medium fcindere pontum.-
Qui cadit in plano, (vix hoc tamen evenit ipfum ) Si cadit, ut tacta furgere poffit humo. At mifer Elpenor tecto delapfus ab alto, Occurrit Regi flebilis umbra fuo.
Ovid. Lib. III. Trift. 4.
Vive fine invidia, molléfque inglorius annos Exige, amicitias & tibi junge pares.————
DOLOR. Vide Lamentatio. In Morte lucta.
INterea pavidam volitans pennata per urbem Nuncia Fama ruit, matrífque adlabitur aures
Euryali at fubitus miferæ calor offa reliquit : Excuffi manibus radii, revolutáque penfa : Evolat infelix, & foemineo ululatu,
Sciffa comam, muros amens atque agmina curfu Prima petit non illa virûm, non illa pericli,
Telorúmque memor: cœlum dehinc queftibus implet.
Are not with Sounds to be affrighted thence, But in the midst of Pomp pursue the Prince : Not aw'd by Arms, but in the Prefence bold, Without Refpect to Purple, or to Gold: Why should not we these Pageantries defpife, Whofe Worth but in our want of Reafon lies? Oh! were the Minds of Courtiers feen; What Cares tempeftuous rage within, And scourge their Souls! the Brutian Sea Tofs'd by wild Storms more calm than They. Let Others, infolent, and great, Enjoy the treach'rous Smiles of Fate: To Courts, Ah! never let me roam! Bleft with Content, and Peace at Home. May my small Bark in Safety Sail, Ne'er tempted by a profp'rous Gale, Roving to leave the Sight of Shore,
And dang❜rous, diftant Deeps explore. Ward. Let him who would be Good from Courts retire.-.
On level Ground whoever haps to fall, (Tho' that's a Thing which rarely haps at all, ) The Hurt fo gentle, and fo flight the Pain, No fooner is he down than up again : But when Elpenor from the Turret fell,
His Soul went weeping to the Gates of Hell.
Thoughtlefs of Glory pafs thy downy Hours, Unknown, unenvy'd, in Obscurity:
And chufe Companions of thy own Degree.
GRIEF. See Lamentation. Mourning for the Dead.
OON hafty Fame, thro' the fad City bears
The mournful Tidings, to the Mother's Ears: An icy Cold benumbs her Limbs: She shakes: Her Cheeks the Blood, her Hand the Web forfakes. She runs the Rampires round amidst the War, Nor fears the flying Darts: fhe rends her Hair, And with her Lamentations fills the Air.-
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