Puslapio vaizdai
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The duftman lafhes on with fpiteful rage,
His ponderous fpokes thy painted wheel engage,
Cruth'd is thy pride, down falls the fhrieking beau,
The flabby pavement cryftal fragments ftrow,
Black floods of mire th' embroider'd coat difgrace,
And mud enwraps the honours of his face.
So when dread Jove the fon of Phoebus hurl'd,
Scar'd with dark thunder, to the nether world;
The headftrong courfers tore the filver reins,
And the fun's beamy ruin gilds the plains.

PANA CE A.

OR, THE GRAND RESTORATIVE.

[GRAVES.]

ELCOME to Baia's ftreams, ye fons of fpleen,
Who rove from fpa to spa-to fhift the fcene.
While round the ftreaming fount you idly throng,
Come, learn a wholefome fecret from my fong.

Ye fair, whofe rofes feel th' approaching froft,
And drops fupply the place of spirits loft:
Ye 'fquires, who rack'd with gouts, at heav'n repine,
Condemn'd to water for excefs in wine:

Ye portly cits, fo corpulent and full,

Who eat and drink 'till appetite grows dull:

For whets and bitters then unftring the purfe,
Whilft nature more oppreft grows worfe and worse:
Dupes to the craft of pill-prefcribing leaches:
You nod or laugh at what the parfon preaches:
Hear then a rhiming-quack, who fpurns your wealth,
And gratis gives a fure receipt for health.
No more thus vainly rove o'er fea and land,
When lo! a fovereign remedy's at hand;
'Tis temperance-ftale cant!-'Tis fafting then;
Heav'n's antidote against the fins of men.
Foul luxury's the caufe of all your pain:
To fcour th' obftructed glands, abitain! abftain!
Faft and take reft, ye candidates for fleep,
Who from high food tormenting vigils keep:
Faft and be fat-thou ftarveling in a gown;
Ye bloated, faft-'twill surely bring you down.

Ye

Ye nymphs that pine o'er chocolate and rolls,
Hence take fresh bloom, fresh vigour to your fouls.
Faft and fear not-you'll need no drop nor pill:
Hunger may ftarve, excels is fure to kill.

CLAUDIAN's OLD MAN OF VERONA.
[COWLEY.]

HAR

"APPY the man, who his whole time doth bound Within th' inclosure of his little ground.

Happy the man, whom the fame humble place
(Th' hereditary cottage of his race)

From his first rifing infancy has known,
And by degrees fees gently bending down,
With natural propenfion, to that earth

Which both preferv'd his life, and gave him birth.
Him no falfe diftant lights, by fortune fet,
Could ever into foolish wand'rings get.
He never dangers either faw or fear'd:
The dreadful ftorms at fea he never heard.
He never heard the fhrill alarms of war,
Or the worse noifes of the lawyers bar.
No change of confuls marks to him the year,
The change of feafons is his calendar.

The cold and heat, winter and fummer fhows;
Autumn by fruits, fpring by flowers he knows.
He measures time by land-marks, and has found
For the whole day the dial of his ground.

A neighbouring wood, born with himself, he sees,
And loves his own contemporary trees.
He has only heard of near Verona's name,
And knows it, like the Indies, but by fame.
Does with a like concernment notice take
Of the Red-fea, and of Benacus' lakes
Thus health and ftrength he to a third age enjoys,
And fees a long pofterity of boys.

About the fpacious world let others roam,
The voyage, life, is longeft made at home.

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TAIL, old patrician trees, fo great and good!
Hail, ye plebeian underwood!

H

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Where

Where the poetic birds rejoice,

And for their quiet nefts and plenteous food
Pay with their grateful voice.

II.

Hail, the poor muses richest manor feat!
Ye country houfes and retreat,
Which all the happy gods fo love,

That for you oft they quit their bright and great
Metropolis above.

III.

Here nature does a houfe for me erect;

Nature the wifeft architect,

Who those fond artifts does defpife That can the fair and living trees neglect, Yet the dead timber prize.

IV.

Here, let me, carelefs and unthoughtful lying,
Hear the foft winds, above me flying,
With all their wanton boughs difpute,
And the more tuneful birds to both replying,
Nor be myself, too, mute.

N..

A filver ftream fhall roul his waters near,
Gilt with the fun-beams here and there,
On whose enamell'd bank I'll walk,
And fee how prettily they fmile, and hear
How prettily they talk.

VI.

Ah wretched and too folitary he,
Who loves not his own company!
He'll feel the weight of't many a day,
Unless he call in fin or vanity

To help to bear't away.

VII.

Oh folitude, firft ftate of human-kind!
Which bleft remain'd, till man did find
Ev'n his own helper's company.
As foon as two (alas!) together join'd,
The ferpent made up three.

VIIL

Tho' God himself, through countless ages, thee

His le companion chofe to be,

Thee, facred folitude, alone,

Before the branchy head of number's tree

Sprang from the trunk of one.

Thou

IX.

Thou (tho' men think thine an unactive part)
Doft break and tame th' unruly heart,
Which elfe would know no fettled pace,
Making it move well manag'd by thy art,
With fwiftnefs and with grace.

X.

Thou the faint beams of reafon's fcatter'd light
Doft, like a burning glafs, unite,

Daft multiply the feeble heat,

And fortify the ftrength, till thou dost bright
And noble fires beget...

XI.

Whilft this hard truth I teach, methinks, I fee
The monfter London laugh at me;

I fhould at thee too, foolish city;
If it were fit to laugh at mifery;
But thy eftate I pity..

XII.

go,

Let but thy wicked men from out thee
And all the fools that crowd thee fo,
Even thou, who doft thy millions boaft,
A village lefs than Iflington will grow,
A folitude almost.

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FA

[PARNELL.]

AR in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a rev'rend Hermit grew;
The mofs his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:
Remote from Man, with God he pais'd the days,
Pray'r all his bufinefs, all his pleasure praise.

A life fo facred, fuch ferene repose,

Seem'd heav'n itfelf, 'till one fuggeftion rofe;
That vice fhould triumph, virtue vice obey,
This fprung fome doubt of providence's fway :
His hopes no more a certain profpect boaft,
And all the tenour of his foul is loft:
So when a smooth expanfe receives impreft
Calm nature's image on its wat'ry breaft,

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Down

Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,
And skies beneath with anfwering colours glow:
But if a ftone the gentle fea divide,

Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry fide,

And glimm'ring fragments of a broken fun,
Banks, trees, and fkies, in thick diforder run.

To clear this doubt, to know the world by fight,
To find if books, or fwains, report it right;
(For yet by fwains alone the world he knew,
Whofe feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew)
He quits his cell; the pilgrim-ftaff he bore,
And fix'd the fcallop in his hat before;
Then with the fun a rifing journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.

The morn was wafted in the pathless grafs,
And long and lonefome was the wild to pafs;
But when the Southern fun had warm'd the day,
A youth came pofting o'er a croffing way;
His rayment decent, his complexion fair,
And foft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair.
Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cry'd;
And hail, my fon! the rev'rend fire reply'd;
Words follow'd words, from queftion anfwer flow'd,
And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road;
'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their age they differ, join in heart:
Thus ftands an aged elm in ivy bound,
Thus youthful ivy clafps an elm around.
Now funk the fun; the clofing hour of day
Came onward, mantled o'er with fober grey;
Nature in filence bid the world repose:
When near the road a stately palace rofe:

There by the moon through ranks of trees they pass,
Whofe verdure crown'd their floping fides of grafs.
It chanc'd the noble master of the dome

Still made his houfe the wand'ring ftranger's home:
Yet ftill the kindnefs, from the thirft of praife,
Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease.
The pair arrive: the liv'ry'd fervants wait;
Their lord receives them at the pompous gate.
The table groans with coftly piles of food,
And all is more than hofpitably good.
Then led to reft, the day's long toil they drown,
Deep funk in fleep, and filk, and heaps of down.

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