ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN. In which was painted the Story of Cephalus and Procris, with the Motto, Aura veni.' 'COME, gentle air!' the Eolian shepherd said, At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives And pities Procris while her lover dies. COWLEY. THE GARDEN. FAIN would my muse the flowery treasure sing, Here orange trees with blooms and pendants shine There m bright drops the crystal fountains play, WEEPING. WHILE Celia's tears make sorrow bright, ese silver drops, like morning dew, The baby in that sunny sphere So like a Phaeton appears, That heaven, the threaten'd world to spare EARL OF ROCHESTER ON SILENCE. SILENCE! coeval with eternity, Thou wert, ere nature's self began to be; Twas one vast nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee. Thine was the sway, ere heav'n was formed, of earth: Fre fruitful thought conceived creation's birth, r midwife word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth. The various elements against thee jin'd In one inore various animal combined, And framed the clamorous race of busy human-kind. The tongue moved gently first and speech was low, Till wrangling science taught it noise and show, And wicked wit arose, thy most abusive foe. But rebel wit deserts thee oft in vain ; Lost in the maze of words he turns again, And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign. Afflicted sense thou kindly dost set free, Oppress'd with argumental tyranny, And routed reason finds a safe retreat in thee. With thee in private modest dulness lies, And in thy bosom lurks in thought's disguise; Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise! Yet thy indulgence is by both confess'd; Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, And 'tis in thee at last that wisdom seeks for rest. Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name, The only honour of the wishing dame; Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame. But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are free, How church and state should be obliged to thee; At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou bel 15 Yet speech e'en there submissively withdraws, From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy laws. Past services of friends, good deeds of foes, What favourites gain, and what the nation owes, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose. The country wit, religion of the town, The courtier's learning, policy of the gown, Are best by thee express'd; and shine in thee alone The parson's cant, the lawyer's sophistry, Lord's quibble, critic's jest, all end in thee, All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally. EARL OF DORSET ARTEMISIA. THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits, Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke; Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, On her large squab you find her spread That lies and stinks in state. She wears no colours (sign of grace) All white and black beside: Dauntless her look, her gesture proud. And masculine her strida. So have I seen, in black and white, A stately, worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail PHRYNE. PHRYNE had talents for mankind, Her learning and good-breeding suck Spaniards or French came to her; 'Twas 'Si Signor,' 'twas 'Yaw Mynheer,' 'Twas S'il vous plait, Monsieur.' Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes, In dir monds, pearls, and rich brocades, So have I known those insects fair Still gain new titles with new forms; First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms DR. SWIFT. THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON PARSON, these things in thy possessing, |