So black the Shade, fo thick the stagnant Air,
That no reviving Sun-beams enter'd there :
Nothing but here and there a ftraggling Ray,
That loft itself in wand'ring from the Day:
Which ferv'd not to refresh, but to affright,
Not to difpel, but to disclose the Night.
A Green-wood Shade, for long Religion known,
Incompafs'd round with gloomy Hills above,
Which added holy Horrour to the Grove.
SHIP. See Deluge. Serpent.
Guyomar. As far as I could caft my Eyes Upon the Sea, fomething methought did rise, Like bluish Mifts, which ftill appearing more,
Took dreadful Shapes, and thus mov'd tow'rds the Shore: The Object I could first distinctly view,
Was tall ftraight Trees, which on the Waters flew :
Wings on their Sides inftead of Leaves did grow,
Which gather'd all the Breath the Winds could blow;
And at their Roots grew floating Palaces,
Whose out-blown Bellies cut the yielding Seas.
Montezuma. What divine Monsters, O ye Gods! are thefe, That float in Air, and fly upon the Seas!
Came they alive or dead upon the Shore?
Guyom. Alas! they liv'd too fure, I heard 'em roar :
All turn'd their Sides, and to each other spoke,
I faw their Words break out in Fire and Smoke.
Sure 'tis their Voice that thunders from on high,
And these the younger Brothers of the Sky.
Deaf with the Noife, I took my hafty Flight,
No mortal Courage can fupport the Fright. Dryd. Ind. Emp.
Behold a itately Ship
Proud of her gawdy Trim, comes this Way failing,
With all her Brav'ry on, and Tackle trim,
Sails fill'd, and Streamers waving,
Courted by all the Winds that hold them Play.
This floating Ram, did bear his Horns above,
All ty'd with Ribbands, ruffling in the Wind:
Sometimes he nodded down his Head a while,
And then the Waves did heave him to the Moon:
He clamb'ring to the Top of all the Billows;
And then again he curt'fy'd down fo low,
I could not fee him; till at laft, all Sidelong:
With a great Crack, his Belly burft in pieces.
Thus as a Ship, which Winds and Waves affail,
Now with the Current drives, now with the Gale,
Both oppofite, and neither long prevail :
She feels a double Force; by turns obeys
Th'imperious Tempeft and impetuous Seas. Dryd. Ovid.
SICKNESS. See Difeafes.
Mean while the Health of Arcite still impairs, From bad proceeds to worfe, and mocks the Leeches Cares: Swol'n is his Breast, his inward Pains increase; All Means are us'd, and all without Succefs. The clotted Blood lies heavy on his Heart, Corrupts, and there remains in fpite of Art: Nor breathing Veins, nor Cupping will prevail, All outward Remedies and inward fail: The Mould of Nature's Fabrick is deftroy'd, Her Veffels difcompos'd, her Virtue void: The Bellows of his Lungs begin to fwell, All out of Frame is ev'ry fecret Cell; Nor can the good receive, nor bad expel. Those breathing Organs, thus within opprefs'd, With Venom foon diftend the Sinews of his Breaft; Nought profits him to fave abandon'd Life,
Nor vomits upward Aid, nor downward Laxative.
The midmoft Region batter'd and destroy'd, (Arc.
When Nature cannot work, th' Effect of Art is void. Dryd. Pla.
Phyficians had forfaken his Cure:
All fcorch'd without, and all parch'd up within,
The Moisture that maintain'd confuming Nature
Lick'd up, and in a Fever fry'd away.
He had a Fever when he was in Spain,
And when the Fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'Tis true, this God did shake!
His Coward Lips did from their Colour fly,
And that fame Eye, whofe Bend does awe the World,
Did lofe his Luftre. I did hear him groan;
I, and that Tongue of his that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his Speeches in their Books,
Alas! it cry'd, give me fome Drink, Titinius;
As a fick Girl.
Shak. Jul. Caf. Spoken of Cæfar. And thus the Wretch, whofe Fever-weaken'd Joints,.. Like ftrengthlefs Hinges, buckle under Life,
Impatient of his Fit, breaks like a Fire,
Out of his Keeper's Arms.
As he who in a Fever burning lies,
First of his Friends does for a Drop implore,
Which tafted once, unable to give o'er,
Knows 'tis his Bane, yet still thirfts after more. Otw. Don.
Her wafted Spirits now begin to faint,
Yet Patience ties her Tongue from all Complaint,
And in her Heart, as in a Fort remains ;
But yields at laft to her refiftless Pains.
Thus while the Fever, am'rous of his Prey,
Thro' all her Veins makes his delightful Way;
Her Fate's like Semele's: The Flames deftroy
That Beauty they too eagerly enjoy.
Her charming Face is in its Spring decay'd,
Pale grow the Rofes, and the Lillies fade;
Her Skin has loft that Luftre, which furpafs'd
The Sun's, and did deserve as long to last.
Her Eyes, which us'd to pierce the firmeft Hearts,
Are now difarm'd of all their Flames and Darts.
Those Stars now heavily and flowly move,
And Sickness triumphs in the Throne of Love.
Ah! lovely Amoret, the Care.
Of all that know what's good or fair!
Is Heav'n become our Rival too?
With fuch a Grace you entertain,
And look with fuch Contempt on Pain,
That languifhing you conquer more,
And wound us deeper than before.
So Lightnings, which in Storms appear,
Scorch more than when the Skies are clear ;
And as pale Sickness does invade
Your frailer Part, the Breaches made
In that fair Lodging, ftill more clear
Make the bright Gueft, your Soul, appear.
So Nymphs o'er pathlefs Mountains borne,
Their light Robes by the Brambles torn,
From their fair Limbs expofing new
And unknown Beauties to the View
Of following Gods, increase their Flame,
And hafte to catch the flying Game.
He rais'd a Sigh fo hideous and profound, That it did feem to fhatter all his Bulk,
She drew a Length of Sighs.
Sigh'd from her inward Soul.
All around
A gen'ral Sigh diffus'd a mournful Sound.
Sighs following Sighs, his inward Fears confefs'd. Pope Hom. Then fuch deep Sighs heav'd from his woeful Heart,
Had crack'd the Strings of Life, and burft away. Lee Oedip.
He knock'd his aged Breaft, and inward groan'd,
Like fome fad Prophet, who forefaw the Doom (Seb.
Of those whom beft he lov'd, and could not fave. Dryd. Don
All the vital Air that Life draws in,
Is render'd back in Sighs.
Nor Womens Sighs, nor Tears are true,
Thofe idly blow, thefe idly fall;
Nothing like to ours at all;
But Sighs and Tears have Sexes too.
Keep down, ye rifing Sighs!
And murmur in the Hollow of my Breaft;
Run to my Heart, and gather more fad Wind;
That when the Voice of Fate fhall call you forth,
You may at once rufh from the Seat of Life,
Blow the Blood out, and burst me like a Bladder. Lee Alex.
SILENCE.
Silence, the Midnight God appears :
In all its downy Pomp array'd,
Behold the rev'rend Shade.
An ancient Sigh he fits upon,
Whofe Memory of Sound is long fince gone,
And purposely annihilated for his Throne.
Beneath, two foft tranfparent Clouds do meet,
In which he seems to fink his fofter Feet:
A melancholy Thought, condens'd to Air,
Stol'n from a Lover in Despair,
Like a thin Mantle, ferves to wrap
In fluid Folds his vifionary Shape;
A Wreath of Darknefs round his Head he wears,
Where curling Mifts fupply the Want of Hairs.
While the still Vapours, which from Poppies rife,
Bedew his hoary Head, and lull his Eyes.
Silence, more dreadful than fevereft Sounds!
Would the but speak, tho' Death, eternal Exile,
Hung at her Lips, yet while her Tongue pronounces,
There would be Mufick ev'n in my Undoing.
Far from my Lips, within my Breast I'll keep it,
Nor breathe it foftly to myself alone,
Left fome officious murm'ring Wind should tell it,
And babbling Echoes catch the feeble Sound. Rowe Ulyff.
No, to what Purpose should I fpeak?
No, wretched Heart, fwell 'till you break!
No, to the Grave thy Sorrows bear,
As filent as they will be there:
I will not ask her, 'tis a milder Fate
To fall by her not Loving, than her Hate Cowl.
Mean while the Knight had no small Task,
To compass what he durft not afk:
He loves, but dares not make the Motion:
Her Ignorance is his Devotion.
Like Čaitiff vile, that for Misdeed,
Rides with his Face to Rump of Steed;
Or rowing Scull, he's fain to love,
Look one Way, and another move;
Or as a Tumbler that does play
His Game, and look another Way,
Until he feize upon the Coney;
Juft fo does he by Matrimony.
Silent as the ecftatick Blifs Of Souls, that by Intelligence converse. Still as the Bofom of the defart Night; As fatal Planets, or deep-plotting Friends. Still as the peaceful Walks of ancient Night; Silent as are the Lamps that burn in Tombs. Shak. K. Lear. Silent as Dews that fall in dead of Night. Dryd. Ind. Emp.
SILENUS.
Two Satyrs on the Ground,
Stretch'd at his Eafe, their Sire Silenus found:
Doz'd with his Fumes, and heavy with his Load,
They found him fnoring in his dark Abode;
And feiz'd with youthful Arms the drunken God.
His rofy Wreath was dropp'd not long before,
Borne by the Tide of Wine, and floating on the Floor.
His empty Can, with Ears half worn away,
Was hung on high, to boast the Triumph of the Day. Dryd.
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