Come, gentle Air! the fairer Delia cries, Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives, At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives: She views the story with attentive eyes, And pities Procris, while her lover dies. IV. COWLEY. The Garden. FAIN would my Muse the flow'ry treasure sing, 14 ΤΟ There the green infants in their beds are laid, There in bright drops the crystal fountains play, Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam, Weeping. WHILE Celia's tears make sorrow bright, Thus from the ocean first did rise; These silver drops, like morning dew, So from one cloud soft show'rs we view, 20 25 30 5 10 The stars that fall from Celia's eye Declare our doom in drawing nigh. The baby in that sunny sphere So like a Phaeton appears, That Heav'n, the threaten'd world to spare, V. E. OF ROCHESTER. On Silence. I. SILENCE! Coeval with eternity; Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be; 15 'Twas one vast nothing all, and all slept fast in thee. II. Thine was the sway, ere heav'n was form'd, or earth, III. Then various elements against thee join'd, In one more various animal combin'd, And fram'd the clam'rous race of busy human-kind. IV. 5 The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low, Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show, Q And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe. V. 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. VI. Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free, Oppress'd with argumental tyranny, And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee. VII. With thee in private modest Dulness lies, And in thy bosom lurks in Thought's disguise; VIII. Yet thy indulgence is by both confest; Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest. IX. 16 20 Silence! the knave's repute, the whore's good name, X. 26 But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are free, XI. Yet speech, ev'n there, submissively withdraws 31 From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause; Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy laws. XII. Past services of friends, good deeds of foes, The country wit, religion of the town, The courtier's learning, policy o' th' gown, The parson's cant, the lawyer's sophistry, VI. E. of DORSET. Artemisia. THO' Artemisia talks by fits, Of counsels, classics, fathers, wits; And wear a cleaner smock. Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, Are oddly join'd by Fate: On her large squab you find her spread, That lies and stinks in state. 35 40 5 |