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Vain is his Force, and vainer is his Skill,
With fuch a Concourfe comes the Flood of Ill:
The Cries of Men are mix'd with rattling Shrowds;
Seas dash on Seas, and Clouds encounter Clouds.
At once from East to West, from Pole to Pole,
The forky Lightnings flash, the roaring Thunders roul.
Now Waves on Waves afcending fcale the Skies,
And in the Fires above the Water fries.

When yellow Sands are fifted from below,
The glitt'ring Billows give a golden Show;
And when the fouler Bottom fpews the Black,
The Stygian Die the tainted Waters take:
Then frothy white appear the flatted Seas,
And change their Colour, changing their Disease.
Like various Fits the beaten Veffel finds,
And now, fublime, fhe rides upon the Winds;
As from a lofty Summet looks from high,
And from the Clouds beholds the nether Sky;
Now from the Depth of Hell they lift their Sight,
And at a Distance fee fuperiour Light:
The dafhing Billows make a loud Report,
And beat her Sides, as batt'ring Rams a Fort;
Or as a Lyon, bounding in his Way,

With Force augmented, bears against his Prey,
Sidelong to fieze; or, unappall'd with Fear,
Springs on the Toils, and rufhes on the Spear:
So Seas, impell'd by Winds, with added Pow'r,
Affault the Sides, and o'er the Hatches tow'r.
The Planks, their pitchy Cov'ring wash'd away,
Now yield; and now a yawning Breach display.
The roaring Waters with a hoftile Tide,
Rufh thro' the Ruins of her gaping Side.
Mean time in Sheets of Rain the Sky defcends,
And Ocean, fwell'd with Waters, upward tends.
One rifing, falling one, the Heav'ns and Sea
Meet at their Confines in the middle Way.

The Sails are drunk with Show'rs, and drop with Rain,
Sweet Waters mingle with the briny Main.
No Star appears to lend his friendly Light:
Darkness and Tempeft make a double Night.
But flashing Fires difclose the Deep by turns ;
And while the Lightnings blaze, the Waters burns.
Now all the Waves their scatter'd Force unite;
And as a Soldier foremost in the Fight,
Makes Way for others; and, an Hoft alone,
Still preffes on, and urging gains the Town:

Sa

So while th'invading Billows come a-breaft,
The Hero tenth advanc'd before the reft,
Sweeps all before him with impetuous Sway,
And from the Walls defcends upon the Prey;
Part foll'wing enter, Part remain without,
With Envy hear their Fellows conqu'ring fhout,
And mount on others Backs, in Hope to hare
The City, thus become the Seat of War.
An univerfal Cry refounds aloud,

"The Sailors run in Heaps, a helpless Crowd:
Art fails, and Courage falls; no Succour near;
As many Waves, as many Deaths appear.
One weeps, and yet defpairs of late Relief;
One cannot weep, his Fears congeal his Grief;
But, ftupid, with dry Eyes expects his Fate:
One with loud Shrieks laments his loft Eftate,
And calls thofe happy who their Fun'rals wait.
This Wretch with Pray'rs and Vows the Gods implores,
And ev❜n the Skies he cannot fee, adores;
That other, on his Friends his Thoughts beftows,
His careful Father, and his faithful Spouse.
The covetous Worldling, in his anxious Mind,
Thinks only on the Wealth he left behind.
All Ceyx his Alcyone imploys;

For her he grieves, yet in her Abfence joys.
His Wife he wishes, and would ftill be near,
Not her with him, but wishes him with her.
Now with laft Looks he feeks his native Shore,
Which Fate has destin'd him to fee no more;
He fought, but in the dark tempeftuous Night,
He knew not whither to direct his Sight.
So whirl the Seas, fuch Blacknefs blinds the Sky,
That the black Night receives a deeper Die.
The giddy Ship ran round; the Tempeft tore
Her Maft, and over-board the Rudder bore.
One Billow mounts, and with a scornful Brow,
Proud of her Conqueft gain'd, infults the Waves below;
Nor lighter falls than if fome Giant tore
Pindus and Athos with the Freight they bore,

And tofs'd on Seas; prefs'd with the pond'rous Blow,
Down finks the Ship, within th'Abyss below:
Down with the Veffel fink into the Main
The Many never more to rife again.

Some few on fcatter'd Planks with fruitless Care,
Lay hold, and fwim, but while they fwim, defpair.
Ev'n he, who late a Scepter did command,,
Now grafps a floating Fragment in his Hand;

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And while he struggles on the ftormy Main,
Invokes his Father, and his Wife in vain ;
But yet his Confort is his greatest Care,
Alcyone he names amidft his Pray's:

Names as a Charm against the Waves and Wind
Moft in his Mouth, and ever in his Mind.
Tir'd with his Toil, all Hopes of Safety paft,
From Prayers to Wishes he defcends at laft;
That his dead Body, wafted to the Sands,
Might have its Burial from her friendly Hands.
As oft as he can catch a Gulp of Air,*
And peep above the Seas, he names the Fair;
And even when plung'd beneath on her he raves,
Murm'ring Alcyone below the Waves.

At laft a falling Billow ftops his Breath,

Breaks o'er his Head, and whelms him underneath. Dryd. Ovid. STREAM. See Brooks, Bufinefs, Country Life.

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The Stream is fo tranfparent, pure and clear,

That had the felf-enamour'd Youth gaz'd here,

So fatally deceiv'd he had not been,

While he the Bottom, not his Face had feen.

Hard by a Stream did with that Softness creep, As't were by its own Murmurs hufh'd afleep.

Clofe by a foftly murm'ring Stream, Where Lover's us'd to loll and dream. Sometimes, mifguided by the tuneful Throng,

Deah.

Old.

Hud.

I look for Streams immortaliz'd in Song,
That loft in Silence and Oblivion lie,

(Dumb are their Fountains, and their Channels dry,) Yet run for ever by the Mufes Skill,

And in the smooth Description murmur ftill.

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Thus a tame Stream does wild and dang'rous grow

By unjuft Force: He now with wanton Play
Kiffes the fmiling Banks, and glides away:
But his known Channel ftopp'd, begins to roar,
And fwell with Rage;

His mutinous Waters hurry to the War,

And Troops of Waves come rowling from afar :

Then fcorns he fuch weak Stops to his free Source,

And over-runs the neighb'ring Fields with violent Force. Col.
Th'innocent Stream, as it in Silence goes,

Fresh Honours, and a fuddain Spring beftows,
On both its Banks, to ev'ry Flow'r and Tree.

STRENGTH.

Compos'd of mighty Bones and Brawn, he ftands

goodly tow'ring Object on the Sands.

Cowl.

Dryd. Virg.

His brawny Back, and ample Breaft he shows, His lifted Arms around his Head he throws, And deals in whistling Air his empty Blows.

Dryd. Virg.

We met in Fight; I know him to my Coft,
With what a whirling Force his Lance he tofs'd!
Heav'ns! what a Spring was in his Arm to throw !
How high he held his Shield, and rofe at ev'ry Blow!
Had Troy produc'd two more his Match in Might,
They would have chang'd the Fortune of the Fight:
Th'Invasion of the Greeks had been return'd,
Our Empire wasted and our Cities_burn'd.

Dryd. Virg [Diomedes fays it of Eneas.]

But what is Strength without a double Share
Of Wisdom? Vaft, unweildy, burthenfom:
Proudly fecure, yet liable to fall

By weakest Subtilties; Strength's not made to rule,
But to fubferve, where Wisdom bears Command.

STYLE. See Eloquence, Poet, River, Verse.
His candid Style like a clear Stream does flide,
And his bright Fancy all the Way
Does like the Sun-fhine on it play,
It does like Thames, the beft of Rivers, glide;
Where the God does not rudely overturn,
But gently pour the chrystal Urn,

Milt.

And with judicious Hands does the whole Torrent guide; 'T has all Beauties Nature can impart,

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And all the comely Drefs, without the Paint of Art. Cowl.

Thy even Thoughts with fo much Plainness flow,

Their Senfe untutor'd Infancy may know:

Yet to fuch Height in all that Plainnefs wrought,
Wit may admire, and letter'd Pride be taught.
Eafy in Words thy Style, in Senfe fublime,
On its bleft Steps each Age and Sex may rife
'Tis like the Ladder in the Patriarch's Dream,
Its Foot on Earth, its Height beyond the Skies.
STTX. See Hell.

The Thund'rer faid:
And shook the facred Honours of his Head,
Attefting Styx, th'inviolable Flood,

And the black Regions of his Brother God:

;

Prior.

(Dryd. Virg.

Trembled the Poles of Heaven, and Earth confefs'd the Nod.

To feal his facred Vow, by Styx he swore,

The Lake of liquid Pitch, the dreary Shore;

And Phlegeton's unnavigable Flood:

He faid; and fhook the Skies with his imperial Nod. Dryd.Virg.

SUBJECT.

SUBJECT:

See King.

We are but Subje&s, Maximus ; Obedience
To what is done, and Grief for what's ill done,
Is all we can call ours. The Hearts of Princes
Are like the Temples of the Gods; pure Incense,
Till fome unhallow'd Hands defile their Off'rings,
Burns ever there: We must not puc it out,

Because the Priests who touch those Sweets, are wicked:
We dare not, deareft Friend; nay more, we cannot,
While we confider whose we are, and how,

To what Laws bound, much more to what Lawgiver:
While Majefty is made to be obey'd,

And not inquir'd into.

Was it for me to prop
The Ruins of a falling Majefty?

To place my felf beneath the mighty Flaw,
Thus to be crufh'd and pounded into Atoms
By its o'erwhelming Weight? 'Tis too prefuming
For Subjects to preferve that wilful Pow'r,
Which courts its own Destruction.

Roch. Valent.

Dryd. All for Love.

The Elephant is never won with Anger,
Ner must that Man who would reclaim a Lyon,
Take him by the Teeth.

Our honeft Actions, and the Truth, that breaks,
Like Morning, from our Service, chafte and blushing,
Is that which pulls a Prince back: Then he sees,
And not till then truly repents his Errours.

Subjects are stiff-neck'd Animals, they foon

Roch. Valent.

Feel fläcken'd Reins, and throw the Rider down. Dryd. Aur.
Subjects like these are feldom seen,

Who not forfook me at my greatest Need,
Nor for bafe Lucre fold their Loyalty ;
But fhar'd my Dangers to the laft Event,
And fenc'd them with their own.

He who his Prince too blindly does obey,
To keep his Faith, his Virtue throws away.

SUCCESS.

Dryd. Don Seb.

Dryd. Ind. Emp.

Succefs, the Mark no mortal Wit,
Or fureft Hand can always hit :
For whatfoe'er we perpetrate,
We do but row, we're fteer'd by Fate.
Which in Success oft difinherits,
For fpurious Caufes, nobleft Merits:
Great Actions are not always true Sons,
Of great and mighty Refolutions:
Nor do the bold' Attempts bring forth
Events, ftill equal to their Worth.

But

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