Gold alone does Paffion move,
Gold monopolises Love!
A Curse on her and on the Man
Who this Traffick first began!
A Curse on him who found the Oar!
A Curse on him who digg'd the Store !
A Curse on him who did refine it!
A Curfe on him who first did coyn it!
A Curse all Curses else above
On him, who us'd it first in Love!
Gold begets in Brethren Hate,
Gold in Families Debate;
Gold does Friendship separate,
Gold does Civil Wars create,
These the smallest Harms of it!
Gold, alass, does Love beget.
OF DEATH.
DEATH thou haft feen
In his first Shape on Man; but many Shapes
Of Death, and many are the Ways that lead
To his grim Cave, all dismal; yet to Sense
More terrible at th' entrance than within.
Some, as thou faw'st, by violent Stroke shall die,
By Fire, Flood, Famine, by Intemperance more
In Meats and Drinks, which on the Earth shall bring
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous Crew
Before thee shall appear; that thou may'st know
What Misery th' Inabstinence of Eve
Shall bring on Men. Immediately a Place
Before his Eyes appear'd, fad, noysom, dark,
A Lazar-house it feem'd, wherein were laid.
Numbers of all diseas'd, all Maladies
Of ghaftly Spafm, or racking Torture, Qualms
Of Heart-fick Agony, all feverous kinds,
Convulfions, Epilepfies, fierce Catarrhs,
Inteftine Stone and Ulcer, Cholick Pangs,
Demoniack Phrenzie, moaping Melancholy,
And Moon-ftruck Madness, pining Atrophy,
Marasmus, and wide-wafting Peftilence,
Dropsies, and Afthma's, and Joint-racking Rheums
Dire was the tofling, deep the Groans, Despair
Tended the Sick bufieft from Couch to Couch;
And over them triumphant Death his Dart
Shook, but delay'd to strike, tho' oft invok'd
With Vows, as their chief Good, and final Hope.
Milton Paradise Lost. 1.XI.
THen from the Mountain hewing Timber tall,
Began to build a Veffel of huge Bulk,
Measur'd by Cubit, length and breadth, and height,
Smear'd round with Pitch, and in the Side a Door
Contriv'd, and of Provisions laid in large
For Man and Beast: When lo a Wonder strange!
Of every Beast and Bird, and Infect small
Came Sevens, and Pairs, and enter'd in, as taught
Their Order: Last the Sire, and his three Sons
With their four Wives, and God made fast the Door.
The Deluge; or, Noah's Flood.
Ean while the South Wind rose, and with black
Wide hovering, all the Clouds together drove
From under Heav'n; the Hills to their fupply
Vapour, and Exhalation dusk and moist,
Sent up amain; and now the thicken'd Sky
Like a dark Ceiling stood; down rush'd the Rain
Impetuous, and continu'd till the Earth
No more was seen; the floating Veffel fwum
Up-lifted; and secure with beaked Prow
Rode tilting o'er the Waves, all Dwellings else
Flood overwhelm'd, and them with all their Pomp
Deep under Water rowl'd; Sea cover'd Sea,
Sea without Shoar; and in their Palaces
Where Luxury late reign'd: Sea-Monsters whelp'd
And stabl'd; of Mankind, so numerous late,
All left, in one small Bottom fwum imbark'd.
Milton Paradise Lost, 1. XI.
as Authors tell, in Days of yore,
A Widow fomewhat Old, and very Poor:
Deep in a Cell her Cottage lonely stood,
Well thatch'd, and under covert of a Wood.
This Dowager, on whom my Tale I found,
Since last she laid her Husband in the Ground,
A fimple fober Life, in Patience led,
And had but just enough to buy her Bread :
Put Huswifing the little Heaven had lent,
She duly paid a Groat for Quarter-Rent;
And pinch'd her Belly with her Daughters two,
To bring the Year about with much ado.
The Cattle in her Homestead were three Sows,
An Ewe call'd Mally, and three brinded Cows.
Her Parlor-Windows stuck with Herbs around,
Of fav'ry Smell, and Rushes strew'd the Ground.
A Maple-Dreffer in her Hall she had,
On which full many a flender Meal she made :
For no delicious Morsel pass'd her Throat;
According to her Cloth the cut her Coat:
No poinant Sauce she knew, no costly Treat,
Her Hunger gave a Relish to her Meat:
A fparing Diet did her Health affure;
Or Sick, a Pepper-Poffet was her Cure.
Before the Day was done her Work she sped,
And never went by Candle-light to Bed;
With Exercise she sweat ill Humors out,
Her Dancing was not hinder'd by the Gout.
Her Poverty was glad, her Heart content,
Nor knew the what the Spleen or Vapors meant.
Of Wine she never tafted through the Year,
But White and Black was all her homely Chear;
Brown Bread, and Milk, (but first she skim'd her
And Rafhers of fing'd Bacon, on the Coals. (Bowls
On Holy Days, an Egg or two at most,
But her Ambition never reach'd to roaft.
A Yard the had with Pales enclos'd about,
Some high, fome low, and a dry Ditch without;
Within this Homestead, liv'd without a Peer,
FOR Crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer:
So high't her Cock, who Singing did furpass
The merry Notes of Organs at the Mass.
More certain was the crowing of this Cock
To number Hours, than is an Abbey Clock;
And fooner than the Mattin Bell was rung,
He clap'd his Wings upon his Rooft, and fung:
For when Degrees fifteen afcended right,
By fure Instinct he knew 'twas One at Night.
High was his Comb, and Coral-red withall,
In dents embattl'd like a Castle Wall;
His Bill was Raven-black, and shone like Jet,
Blue were his Legs, and Orient were his Feet:
White were his Nails, like Silver to behold,
His Body glitt'ring like the burnish'd Gold.
Dryden from Chaucer's Cock and the Fox.
The Combate of David and Goliah.
THus, and with trembling Hopes of strange Succefs,
In his own Arms Saul the bold Youth does drefs. On's Head an Helmet of well-wrought Brass is plac'd, The top with Warlike Plumes feverely grac'd. His Breaft a Plate cut with rare Figures bore, A Sword much practis'd in Death's Art he wore. Yet David us'd so long to no Defence, But those light Arms of Spirit and Innocence,
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