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Here aged trees cathedral walks compofe,
Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam, 25 a
WHILE Celia's tears make forrow bright,
Thus from the ocean firft did rife:
These filver drops, like morning dew,
And blafting light'nings burft away. The ftars that fall from Celia's eye, Declare, our doom is drawing nigh.
The baby in that funny sphere
That heav'n, the threaten'd world to spare,
Elfe might th' ambitious nymph aspire,
E. of ROCHESTER.
LENCE! coeval with eternity; Thou wert, 'ere nature's felf began to be, "Twas one vaft nothing, all, and all flept faft in thee.
Thine was the fway, 'ere heav'n was form'd, or earth, 'Ere fruitful thought conceiv'd creation's birth, 5 Or midwife word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.
Then various elements, against thee join'd,
And fram'd the clam'rous race of bufy human-kind.
The tongue mov'd gently firft, and speech was low, 10 'Till wrangling science taught it noise and show, And wicked wit arose, thy moft abusive foe.
But rebel wit deferts thee oft' in vain ;
Loft in the maze of words, he turns again,
And feeks a furer ftate, and courts thy gentler reign. 15
Afflicted fenfe thou kindly doft fet free,
Opprefs'd with argumental tyranny,
And routed reason finds a safe retreat in thee.
With thee in private modeft dulnefs lies,
Yet thy indulgence is by both confeft;
Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name, 25 The only honour of the wifhing dame;
Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame.
But could'ft thou feize fome tongues that now are free, How church and ftate would be oblig❜d to thee? At fenate, and at bar, how welcome would't thou be? 30
Yet speech ev'n there, fubmiffively withdraws From rights of fubjects, and the poor man's caufe: Then pompous filence reigns, and ftills the noify laws.
Paft fervices of friends, good deeds of foes,
What fav'rites gain, and what the nation owes, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repofe.
The country wit, religion of the town,
The courtier's learning, policy o'th' gown,
The parfon's cant, the lawyer's fophiftry, Lord's quibble, critic's jeft; all end in thee, All reft in peace at laft, and fleep eternally.
E. of DORSET.
ARTIME SI A.
HO' Artimefia talks, by fits,
And wear a cleaner fmock.
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Are oddly join'd by fate :
On her large fquab you find her fpread,
That lies and ftinks in ftate.
She wears no colours (fign of grace)
All white and black befide :
So have I feen, in black and white
A ftately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
PHRYNE had talents for mankind,
Her learning and good breeding fuch,
Spaniard or French came to her;
Obfcure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
So have I known thofe infects fair,
Still vary fhapes and dyes;
The Happy Life of a COUNTRY PARSON,
ARSON, these things in thy poffeffing