Page images

Each might have stood perhaps, but each alone;
Two Wrestlers help to pull each other down.
Not that my Verse would 'blemish all the Fair,
But yet, if some be bad, 'tis Wisdom to beware;
And better shun the Bait, than struggle in the Snare. Dryd.

I would not wed her:
No! were she all Desire could wish, as fair
As would the vainest of her Sex be thought,
With Wealth beyond what Woman's Pride could waste,
She should not cheat me of my Freedom. Marry!
When I am old, and weary of the World,
I may grow desperate,
And take a Wife to mortify withal.

Orx, Orple.
Marriage to Maids is like a War to Men,
The Battle causes Fear, but the sweet Hopes
Of winning at the laft ftill draw's them in. Ler Mithrid.

M A'R s.
The God of War, whose unresifted Sway
The Labours and Events of Arms obey.

Dryd. Virg.
Thus on the Banks of Hebrius freezing Flood,
The God of Battels, in his angry Mood,

Clashing his Sword against his brazen Shield,
. Lets loose che Reins, and scours along the Field:

Before the Wind his fiery Coursers fly,
Groans the fad Earth, resounds the rattling Sky.
Wrath, Terrour, Treason, Tumult, and Despair,
Dire Faces and deform'd, surround the Car,
Friends of the God, and Follow'rs of the War. Dryd. Virg.)

Strong God of Arms! whose Iron Sceptre sways
The freezing North, and Hyperborean Seas,
And Scythian Colds, and Thracia's wintry Coast,
Where stand thy Steeds, and thou art honour'd most :
There most; but'ev'ry where thy Pow'r is known,
The Fortune of the Fight is all thy own:
Terrour is thine, and wild Amazement Aung •
From our thy Chariot, withers ev'n the Strong:
And Disarray, and shameful Rout ensue,
And Force is added to the fainting Crew.
Venus, the publick Care of all above,
Thy stubborn Heart has softend into Love:
Now by her Blandishments and pow'rful Charms,
When yielded, she lay curling in thy Arms;
Ev'n by thy shame, if Shame it may be call'd,
When Vulcan had thee in his Net inthrallid;
(Oh envied Ignominy! Sweet Disgrace!
When ev'ry God that saw thee, wilh'd thy Place !)
By chose dear Pleasures, aid my Arms in Fight,


[ocr errors]

And make me conguer in my Patron's Right.
For I am young, a Novice in the Trade,
The Fool of Love, unpractis'd to perswade ;
And want the foothing Arts that catch the Fair;
But caught my self, lie ftruggling in the Snare.
Noughe can my Strength avail, unlers by, thee
Endu'd with Force, I gain the Vi&ory.
Acknowledg'd as thou art, accept my Pray'r,
If ought I have atchiev'd deserve thy Care ;
If to my utmoft Pow's, with Sword and Shield,
I dar'd the Death, unknowing how to yield i
And falling in my Rank, still kept the Field.
So be the Morrow's Sweat and Labour mine,
The Palm and Honour of the Conquest chine.
Then shall the War, and stern Debate, and Strife
Immortal, be the Bus'ness of my Life;
And in thy Fane, the dusty Spoil among,
High on the burnish'd Roof, my Banner shall be hung.
Rank'd with my Champions Bucklers; and below,
With Arms revers'd, th'Achievements of my Foe.
And while these Limbs the vital Spirit feeds,
While Day to Night, and Night to Day fucceeds,
Thy smoking Altar shall be fat with Food
Of Incense, and the grateful Stream of Blood :
Burnt-Off'rings Morn and Ev'ning shall be thine,
And Fires eternal in thy Temple Thine :
This Bush of yellow Beard, this Length of Hair
Which from my Birth inviolate I bear,
Guiltless of Steel, and from the Razor free,
Shall fall a plenteous Crop, reserv'd for thee. Dryd. Pal. Atl,

Temple of MARS.
In the Dome of mighty Mars the Red,
With diff'rent Figures all the Sides were spread:
This Temple, less in Form, with equal Grace,
Was imitative of the first in Thrace.
For that cold Region was the lov'd Abode,
And Sov'raign Manfion of the Warriour-God.
The Landscape was a Forest wide and bare,
Where neither Beast nor Human-kind repair.
The Fowl that scent afar, the Borders fly,
And shun the bitter Blast, and wheel about the Sky.
A Cake of Scurf lies baking on the Ground,
And prickly Stubs instead of Trees are found;
Or Woods with Knors and Knares, deform'd and old;
Headless the most; and hideous to bebold.
A ratt'ling Tempest thro' the Branches went,
That stript them bare, and one fole Way they beat,


Heav'q froze above severe; the Clouds congeal,
And through the chryftal Vault appear'd the standing Hail.
Such was the Face without, a Mountain stood,
Threat'ning from high, and overlook'd the Wood:
Beneath the lowring Brow, and on a Bent

The Temple stood of Märs Armipotent.
The Frame of burnish'd Steel, that cast a Glare
From far, and seem'd to thaw the freezing Air.
A streight long Entry to the Temple led,
Blind with high Walls, and Horrour over-head;
Thence iflu'd such a Bsaft, and hollow Roar,
As threaten'd from the Hinge to heave the Door.
In, thro' that Door a northern Light there Ibone,
Twas all it had, for Windows there were none.
The Gate was Adamant ; eternal Frame !
Which hew'd by Mars himself from Indian Quarries came,
The Labour of a God! and all along
Tough Iron Plates were clench'd to make it strong.
A Tun about was every Pillar there,
A polith'd Mirrour shone not half so clear.
There saw I how the secret Fellon wrought,
And Treason lab'ring in the Traitor's Thought,
And Midwife-Time the ripen'd Plot to Murder brought.
There the red Anger dar'd the pallid Fear;
Next stood-Hyyocrisy; with holy Leer,
Soft-smiling, and demurely looking down;
But hid the Dagger underneath the Gown.
Th'affaffinating Wife, the Houshold-Fiend,
And, far the blackest there, the Traitor-Friend.
On th other Side there ftood Destruction bare,
Unpunish'd Rapine, and a Waste of War.
Conteft, with sharpen'd Knives in Cloysters drawn,
And all with Blood besmear'd the holy Lawa.
Loud Menaces were heard, and foul Disgrace,
And bawling Infamy in Language base,
Till Sense was loft in Sound, and Silence fled the Place.
The Slayer of himself yet saw I there,
The Gore congeal'd was clotter'd in his Hair ;
With Eyes half clos'd, and gaping Mouth he lay,
And grim, as when he breath'd his fullen Soul away.
In midst of all the Dome, Misfortune fate,
And gloomy Discontent, and fell Debate:
And Madness laughing in his ireful Mood ;
And arm'd Complaint on Theft, and Cries of Blood.
There was the murder'd Corps in Covert laid,
And vi'lent Death in thousand Shapes display'd.
The City to the Soldiers Rage refign'd;



Successless Wars, and Poverty behind.
Ships burnt in Fight, or forc'd on rocky Shores,
And the rash Hunter strangled by the Boars.
The new-born Babe by Nurses over-laid,
And the Cook caught within the raging Fire he made.
All Ills of Mars's Nature, Flame, and Steel;
The gasping Charioteer beneath the Wheel
Of his own Car ; the ruin'd House chat falls
And intercepts her Lord betwixt the Walls.
The whole Division that to Mars pertains,
All Trades of Death chac deal in Steel for Gains
Were there; the Butcher, Armourer, and Smith
Who forges Jaarpen'd Fauchions or the Scythe:
The scarlet Conquest on a Tow'r was plac'd,
With Shouts and Soldiers Acclamations grac'd.
There faw I Mars's Ides, the Capitol,
The Seer in vain foretelling Cæsar's Fall;
The last Triumvirs, and the Wars they move,
And Anthony who lost the World for Love.
These, and a thousand more the Fane adorn,
Their Fates were painted e'er the Men were born.
All copy'd from the Heav'ns, and ruling Force
Of the red Star, in his revolving Course.
The Form of Mars high on a Chariot stood,

(Arr. All sheath'd in Arms, and gruffly look'd the God. Dryd.

M A r. For thee, sweet Month, the Groves green Liv'ries wear, If not the first, the fairest of the Year. For thee the Grøces lead the dancing Hours ; And Nature's ready Pencil paints the Flow'rs: When thy short Reign is past, the feav'rish Sun (Pal.b Arc. The sultry Tropick fears, and moves more slowly on. Dryd,

Sprightly May commands our Youth to keep, The Vigils of her Night, and breaks their sluggard Sleep: Each gentle Breast with kindly Warmth she moves, (Arc. Inspires new Flames, revives extinguish'd Loves. Dryd. Pal.

Golden M E A N. See Greatness. Superfluous Pomp and Wealth I not desire, But what Content and Decency require.

Har. Juv. Pleasures abroad the Sport of Nature yields : Her living Fountains and her smiling Fields: And then at home what Pleasure is't to see A little, cleanly, chearful Family! Which if a chaste Wife crown, no less in her, Than Fortune, I the golden Mean prefer. Too noble, nor too wise she should, No nor too rich, too fair, too fond of me.


Cowl. Virg.

Cowl. Virg.

[ocr errors]

Thus let my Life flide filently away,
With Sleep all Night, and Quiet all the Day. Cowl. Mart.

Let Woods and Rivers be
My quiet, tho' inglorious Destiny:
In Life's cool Vale let my low Scene be laid.

Much will always wanting be
To him who much desires :

Thrice happy he,
To whom the wife Indulgency of Heav'n
With sparing Hand but just enough has giv'n! Cowl. Hor.

He does not Palaces nor Mannors' crave,
Would be no Lord, but less a Lord would have:
The Ground he owns, if he his own can call,
He quarrels not with Heay'n because 'cis small.
Let gay and toilfom Greatness others please,
He loves of homely Littleness the Ease.

Cowl. Mart.
Plain was his Couch, and only rich his Mind;
Contentedly he flept as cheaply as he din'd. Cong. Juv.

His calm and harmless Life,
Free from th’Alarms of Fear and Storms of Strife,
Does with substantial Blessedness abound,
And the soft Wings of Peace cover him round.
Their Wealth was the Contempt

of it; which more
They valu'd, than rich Fools the shining Ore.

A silent Life he led ;
Nor pompous Cares, nor Palaces he knew,
But wisely from th'infectious World withdrew, Dryd, Virg.

He's no small Prince, who every Day,

Thus to himself can say:
Now will I sleep, now eat, now fit, now walk,
Now meditate alone, now with Acquaintance talk ;

This will I do, here will I ftay ;
Or if my Fancy calleth me away,
My Man and I will presently go ride,

For we have nothing to provide:
If thou but a short Journey cake,

As if thy last thou wert to make,
Bus'ness must be dispatch'd e'er thou must go ;

Nor canst thou stir unless there be
A hundred Horse and Men to wait on chee,

And many a Mule, and many a Cart,
What an unwieldly Man thou art!
The Ribodian Colossus fo
A Journey too might go.

If thou be wise, no glorious Fortune chuse,
Which 'tis but vain to keep, yet Grief to lose ;
- For when we place ev'n Trifles in the Heart,

With Trifles too unwillingly we part.

[ocr errors]


« PreviousContinue »