Why bileous Juice a golden Light puts on,
And Floods of Chyle in Silver Currents run.
How the dim Speck of Entity began
To work its brittle Being up to Man.
To how minute an Origin we owe
Young Ammon, Cafar, and the Great Nassau.
Why paler Looks impetuous Rage proclaim,
And why chill Virgins redden into Flame.
Why Envy oft transforms with wan Disguise,
And why gay Mirth fits fimiling in the Eyes.
Hence 'tis we wait the wond'rous Cause to find,
How Body acts upon impassive Mind.
How Fumes of Wine the thinking Part can fire,
Paft Hopes revive, and present Joys inspire:
Why our Complexions oft our Soul declare,
And how the Paflions in the Features are.
How Touch'and Harmony arise between
Corporeal Substances, and Things unseen.
With mighty Truths, mysterious to descry,
Which in the Womb of diftant Caufes lie.
Sir Samuel Garth's Dispensary
To a fair Lady playing with a Snake.
STrange that fuch Horror and fuch Grace
Shou'd dwell together in one Place;
A Fury's Arm, an Angel's Face!
'Tis Innocence, and Youth which makes
In Chlori's Fancy fuch Mistakes,
To start at Love, and play with Snakes.
By this and by her Coldness barr'd,
Her Servants have a Task too hard,
The Tyrant has a double Guard.
Thrice happy Snake that in her Sleeve
May boldly creep, we dare not give
Our Thoughts so unconfin'd a Leave :
Contented in a Neft of Snow
He lies as he his Bliss did know,
And to the Wood no more wou'd go.
Take heed, fair Eve, you do not make
Another Tempter of this Snake,
A Marble one, fo warm'd, wou'd fpeak.
A Simile, or Comparison.
DEar Thomas, didft thou never pop
Thy Head into a Tinman's Shop
There, Thomas, didst thou never fee
('Tis but by way of Simile)
A Squirrel spend his little Rage,
In jumping round a rolling Cage?
The Cage, as either fide turn'd up,
Striking a ring of Bells a-top.
Mov'd in the Orb, pleas'd with the Chimes,
The foolish Creature thinks he climbs :
But here or there, turn Wood or Wire,
He never gets two Inches higher.
So fares it with those merry Blades,
That frisk it under Pindus's Shades
In noble Songs, and lofty Odes,
They tread on Stars, and talk with Gods;
Still dancing in an airy Round,
Still pleas'd with their own Verses found.
Brought back, how fast so e'er they go,
Always aspiring, always low.
HIS IS Shop the gazing Vulgar's Eyes employs With Foreign Trinkets, and Domeftick Toys.
Here Mummies lay most reverendly ftale,
And there, the Tortois hung her Coat o' Mail;
Not far from fome huge Shark's devouring Head
The Flying Fish their finny Pinions spread.
Aloft in rows large Poppy-Heads were strung,
And near, a scaly Aligator hung.
In this place, Drugs in musty heaps decay'd,
In that, dry'd Bladders, and drawn Teeth were laid.
An inner Room receives the num'rous Shoals,
Of fuch as pay to be reputed Fools.
Globes stand by
by Globes, Volumns by Volumns lie,
Aud Planetary Schemes amuse the Eye.
The Sage, in Velvet Chair, here lolls at Eafe,
To promife future Health for prefent Fees.
Then, as from Tripod, folemn Shams reveals,
And what the Stars know nothing of, foretels.
One asks, How foon Panthea may be won,
And longs to feel the Marriage-Fetters on.
Others, convinc'd by melancholy Proof,
Enquire, when courteous Fates will ftrike 'em off.
Some, by what Means they may redress the Wrong,
When Fathers the Poffeffion keep too long.
And fome would know the Iffue of their Cause,
And whether Gold can folder up its Flaws.
Poor pregnant Lais his Advice would have,
To lose by Art what fruitful Nature gave:
And Portia old in Expectation grown,
Laments her barren Curse, and begs a Son.
Whilst Iris, his Cofmetick Wash, wonld try,
To make her Bloom revive, and Lovers die.
Some ask for Charms, and others Philters chuse,
To gain Corinna, and their Quartans lose.
These following Verses were made upon a Lady's accidentally killing her favourite Lap-Dog.
TENDER Calia fat fighing
For a Crime she late had done : The Victime at her Feet lay dying, But Cælia made the greater moan.
Ah! cruel Fate, that e'er the Morning,
Which her brighter Eyes out-shin'd,
Should blacken at so short a Warning
Dark as the Thoughts of Calia's Mind;
But why fair Nymph this great Disorder.
For a little harmless Guilt?
This was unintended Murder,
And Speechless is the Blood you've spilt.
Thousand Slaughters you've committed,
Which fevere Repentance need;
The Wretch that loves you, dies unpitied,
And you glory in the Deed.
A crowd of Lovers that adore you
With relentless Frowns you View:
A Thousand Bleeding-Hearts before you
Say your Eyes can murder too.
The petty Crime your Feet have acted
Very well may plead furprize;
First Cancel then the Guilt contracted
By the Blood-shed from your Eyes.
A Dialogue between Two Ladies..
Lalocffa or Mrs. Talkative.
MAdam I thank you for this Visit now,
Why this is kind and neighbourly, I vow, Sit down pray Madam, and what News do you hear? Sophronia, or Mrs. Prudence..
Why none at all. I seldome're inquire
What other People do or say in Town,
For each ones Thoughts and Actions are their own.
talk strangely Cousin, is it true? ever mind what other People do? vou are no Enemy to that Fashion,
: fupport of gentile Conversation,
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