Nor let my homely Death embroider'd be
With Scutcheon or with Elegy.
An old Piebeian let me die.
Alas! all then are fuch as well as I.
I now begin to loath all human Greatness:
I'll fly all Courts, and Love fhall be my Guide ;
Love, that's more worth than all the World befide.
Princes are barr'd the Liberty to roam;
The fetter'd Mind ftill languishes at home;
In golden Bands the treads the thoughtful Round,
Bus'nefs and Cares eternally abound;
And when for Air the Goddess would unbind,
She's clogg'd with Sceptres, and to Crowns confin'd. Lee Theods From publick Noife and factious Strife,
From all the bufy Ills of Life,
Take me, my Cloe, to thy Breast,
And lull my weary'd Soul to Reft:
For ever in this humble Cell,
Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell.
To painted Roofs and fhining Spires,
Th'uneafy Seats of high Defires,
Let the unthinking Many crowd,
Who dare be covetous and proud.
In golden Bondage let them wait,
And barter Happiness for State:
But oh! my Cloe, when thy Swain
Defires to fee a Court again;
May Heav'n around this deftin'd Head,
The Choiceft of its Curfes fhed.
To fum up all the Rage of Fate,
In the two things I dread and hate,
May'st thou be Falfe, and I be Great.
For I difdain
All Pomp when thou art by: Far be the Noife
Of Kings and Courts from us, whofe gentle Souls
Our kinder Stars have fteer'd another Way.
Free as the Foreft Birds we'll pair together,
Without remembring who our Fathers were;
Fly to the Arbours, Grots, and flow'ry Meads,
And in foft Murmurs interchange our Souls;
Together drink the Chrystal of the Stream,
Or tafte the yellow Fruit which Autumn yields:
And when the golden Evening calls us home,
Wing to our downy Beds, and fleep till Morn,
Thus Ifrom tedious Toils of Empire free,
The fervile Pomp of Government defpife;
Find Peace, and Joy, and Love, and Heav'n in thee,
And feek for all my Glory in thofe Eyes.
Poor are the brutal Conquefts we obtain
O'er barb'rous Nations by the Force of Arms:
But when with humble Love a Heart we gain,
And plant our Trophies on our Conqu'ror's Charms,
Such Triumphs ev'n to us may Honour bring:
No Glory's vain, which does from Pleafure fpring. Roch. Valent.
Curfe then thy Birthright,
Thy glorious Titles and ill-fuited Greatnefs,
Since Athenais fcorns thee. Take again
Your ill-tim'd Honours; take 'em, take 'em, Gods!
And change me to fome humble Villager:
If fo at leaft for Toils at fcorching Noon,
In mowing Meadows, or in reaping Fields;
At Night The will but crown me with a Smile,
Or reach the Bounty of her Hand to bless me.
State grows uneafy when it hinders Love ;
A glorious Burthen, which the Wife remove.
Whom Heav'n would blefs, from Pomps it will remove,
And make their Wealth in Privacy and Love.
Dryd, Auren. GRIEF. See Defpair, Funeral, Melancholy, Sorrow, Tears, Weeping.
'Tis not alone my inky Cloak,
Nor cuftomary Suits of folemn Black,
Nor windy Sufpiration of forc'd Breath,
No, nor the fruitful River in the Eye,
Together with all Forms, Moods, Shews of Grief,
That can denote me truly. These indeed feem,
For they are A&ions that a Man might play;
But I have that within which paffes Show,
These but the Trappings and the Suits of Woe.
My Grief lies all within ;
And thofe external Manners of Laments
Are meerly Shadows to the unfeen Grief,
That fwells wirh Silence in my tortur'd Soul:
There lies the Subftance.
Alas! I have no Words to tell my Grief;
To vent my Sorrow would be fome Relief:
Light Suff'rings give us Leisure to complain;
We groan, but cannot speak in greater Pain. Dryd. Pal. & Art. Give Sorrow Words: The Grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught Heart, and bids it break Shak.Mack. I'm dumb, as folemn Sorrow ought to be:
Could my Griefs fpeak, the Tale would have no End.Otw.C.Mar. Horrour in all his Pomp was there :
Mute and magnificent without a Tear.
It is the Wretches Comfort ftill to have
Some fmall Reverse of near and inward Wee.^
Some unfufpected Hoard of darling Grief,
Which they unfeen may wail, and weep, and mourn,
And Glutton-like devour alone.
Time gives Increase to my Affli&tions.
The circling Hours that gather all the Woes,
Which are diffus'd thro' the revolving Year,
Come heavy-laden with th'oppreffing Weight
To me; with me fucceffively they leave
The Sighs, the Tears, the Groans, the reftlefs Cares,
And all the Damps of Grief that did retard their Flight;
They shake their downy Wings, and scatter all
Their dire collected Dews on my poor Head:
Then fly with Joy and Swiftnefs from me.
Of Comfort no Man fpeak;
Let's talk of Graves, and Worms, and Epitaphs!
Make Duft our Paper, and with rainy Eyes,
Write Sorrow in the Bofom of the Earth.
Oh let no other Accents fill the Air,
But Strains of raging Grief, and Yellings of Defpair.
I have been in fuch a dismal Place,
Where Joy ne'er enters, which the Sun ne'er chears ;
Bound in with Darknefs, over-fpread with Damps:
Where I have seen, (if I could fay I faw)
The good old King, Majestick in his Bonds,
And midft his Griefs moft venerably great,
By a dim winking Lamp, which feebly broke
The gloomy Vapours: He lay ftretch'd along
Upon th'unwholfom Earth, his Eyes fix'd upward,
And ever and anon a filent Tear
Stole down, and trickled from his hoary Beard:
My Heart is wither'd at that piteous Sight,
As early Bloffoms are with Eastern Blafts.
He fent for me, and while I rais'd his Head,
He threw his aged Arms about my Neck;
And feeing that I wept, he prefs'd me close :
So leaning Cheek to Cheek, and Eyes to Eyes,
We mingled Tears in a dumb Scene of Sorrow. Dryd. Span. Fry. His Griefs have rent my aged Heart afunder
Stretch'd on the damp unwholfom Earth he lies,
Nor had my Pray'rs or Tears the Pow'r to raise him.
Now motionless as Death his Eyes are fixt,¦
And then anon he ftarts, and cafts 'em upwards,
And groaning cries, I am th'accurs'd of Heaven. Row. Fair Pen.
O take me in a Fellow-Mourner with thee:
I'll number Groan for Groan, and Tear for Tear;
And when the Fountains of thy Eyes are dry,
Mine fhall fupply the Stream, and weep for both. Row.Fair Pen.
No further Voice her mighty Grief affords;
For Sighs came rufhing in betwixt her Words,
And ftopt her Tongue; but what her Tongue deny'd,
Soft Tears, and Groans, and dumb Complaints fupply'd. Dr. Ov.
In Sorrow drown'd,
Betwixt their Arms he finks upon the Ground;
Where, grov'ling while he lies, in deep Defpair,
He beats his Breaft, and rends his hoary Hair.
Forgetful of his State, he runs along
With a distracted Pace, and cleaves the Throng;
Falls on the Corps, and groaning there he lies,
With filent Grief that fpeaks but at his Eyes.
Short Sighs and Sobs fucceed, till Sorrow breaks
A Paffage, and at once he weeps and speaks.
Thus long my Grief has kept me dumb:
Sure there's a Lethargy in mighty Woe;
Tears ftand congeal'd, and cannot flow:
Tears for a Stroke forefeen afford Relief;
But unprovided for a fuddain Blow,
Like Niobe, we Marble grow,
And petrify with Grief.
His drooping Head was refted on his Hand
His griefly Beard his penfive Bofom fought;
And all on Laufus ran his reftlefs Thought.
He fat upon his Rump,
His Head, like one in doleful Dump,
Betwixt his Knees, his Hands apply'd
Unto his Cheeks, on either Side;
And by him in another Hole,
Afflicted Ralpho, Cheek by Joul.
Grief, tho' not cur'd, is eas'd by Company.
That eating Canker, Grief, with wafteful Spite,
Preys on the rofy Bloom of Youth and Beauty. Row. Amb. Step.
GROVE. See Paradife.
And now my Mufe what moft delights her fees,
A living Gallery of aged Trees:
Bold Sons of Earth! that thrust their Arms fo high,
As if once more they would invade the Sky.
In fuch green Palaces the firft Kings reign'd,
Slept in their Shades, and Angels entertain'd:
With fuch wife Councellors they did advise,
And by frequenting facred Groves grew wife.
Strait as a Line, in beauteous Order food,
Of Oaks unfhorn a venerable Wood :
Fresh was the Grafs beneath, and ev'ry Tree
At Distance planted in a due Degree.
Their branching Arms in Air, with equal Space,
Stretch'd to their Neighbours with a long Embrace.
And the new Leaves on ev'ry Bough were feen,
Some ruddy-colour'd, fome of lighter Green.
The painted Birds, Companions of the Spring,
Hopping from Spray to Spray, were heard to fing.
Both Ears and Eyes receiv'd a like Delight,
Enchanting Mufick, and a charming Sight.
This fhadowing Defart, unfrequented Woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled Towns.
Here I can fit alone, unfeen of any,
And to the Nightingale's complaining Notes
(and the Leaf. Dryd. The Flower
Tune my Diftreffes, and record my Woes. Shak. The two Gent.
Ah happy Grove! dark and fecure Retreat
Of facred Silence; Reft's eternal Seat:
How well your cool and unfrequented Shade
Suits with the chafte Retirement of a Maid.
Oh if kind Heav'n had been fo much my Friend,
To make my Fate upon my Choice depend;
All my Ambition I would here confine,
And only this Elizium fhould be mine."
Dear folitary Groves! where Peace does dwell!
Sweet Harbours of pure Love and Innocence!
How willingly could I for ever stay
Beneath the Shade of your embracing Greens,
Lift'ning to th Harmony of warbling Birds,
Tun'd with the gentle Murmur of the Streams;
Upon whofe Banks, in various Livery,
The fragrant Offspring of the early Year,
Their Heads, like graceful Swans, bent proudly down,
Sée their own Beauties in the chrystal Flood,
A Gypfy Jewefs whifpers in your Ear,
And begs an Alms: A High-Prieft's Daughter fhe,
Vers'd in their Talmud and Divinity;
And prophefies beneath a fhady Tree.
Her Goods a Basket, and old Hay her Bed;
She ftrouls, and telling Fortunes, gains her Bread.
Farthings, and fome fmall Monies, are her Fees;
Yet the interprets all your Dreams for thefe;
Foretells th'Eftate, when the rich Uncle dies,
And fees a Sweet-heart in the Sacrifice.
She claps the pretty Palm to make the Lines more fair.
The poorest of the Sex have ftill an Itch
To know their Fortunes, equal to the Rich:
The Dairy-Maid enquires if the fhall take
The trufty Tailor, and the Cook forfake.
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