A fpiteful noife his downy chains unties,
Haftes forward, and increases as it flies.
First, fome to cleave the stubborn * flint engage, 95 Till, urg'd by blows, it sparkles into rage:
Some temper lute, fome fpacious veffels move;
These furnaces erect, and those approve ;
Here phials in nice difcipline are fet,
There gallipots are rang'd in alphabet.
In this place, magazines of pills you spy;
In that, like forage, herbs in bundles lie;
While lifted pestles, brandifh'd in the air,
Defcend in peals, and civil wars declare.
Loud ftrokes, with pounding fpice, the fabric rend, 105
And aromatic clouds in fpires afcend.
So when the Cyclops o'er their anvils fweat,
And fwelling finews echoing blows repeat;
From the volcanos grofs eruptions rife,
And curling sheets of smoke obfcure the skies.
The flumbering God, amaz'd at this new din,
Thrice ftrove to rife, and thrice funk down again.
Liftless he ftretch'd and gaping rubb'd his eyes,
Then falter'd thus betwixt half words and fighs:
How impotent a deity am I !
With Godhead born, but curs'd, that cannot die !
Through my indulgence, mortals hourly fhare
A grateful negligence, and cafe from care.
Lull'd in my arms, how long have I with-held
The northern monarchs from the dufty field!
The building of the Difpenfary.
C 4
How have I kept the British fleet at eafe,
From tempting the rough dangers of the seas !
Hibernia owns the mildnefs of my reign,
And my divinity 's ador'd in Spain.
I fwains to fylvan folitudes convey,
Where, ftretch'd on moffy beds, they waste away
In gentle joys the night, in vows the day.
What marks of wondrous clemency I've shown,
Some reverend worthies of the gown can own:
Triumphant plenty, with a cheerful grace,
Basks in their eyes, and fparkles in their face.
How fleek their looks, how goodly is their mien,
When big thy ftrut behind a double chin!
Each faculty in blandifhments they lull,
Afpiring to be venerably dull;
No learn'd debates moleft their downy trance,
Or difcompofe their pompous ignorance;
But, undisturb'd, they loiter life away,
So wither green, and bloffom in decay ;
Deep funk in down, they, by my gentle care,
Avoid th' inclemencies of morning air,
of morning airgery of prayer.}
Urim was civil, and not void of fenfe, Had humour, and a courteous confidence: So fpruce he moves, fo gracefully he cocks, The hallow'd rofe declares him orthodox: He pafs'd his eafy hours, instead of prayer, In madrigals, and phyllifing the fair;
*Sec Boil. Lut. † Dr. Atterbury.
Conftant at feasts, and each decorum knew,
And, foon as the defert appear'd, withdrew;
Always obliging, and without offence,
And fancy'd, for his gay impertinence.
But fee how ill-mistaken parts fucceed;
He threw off my dominion, and would read;
Engag'd in controverfy, wrangled well;
In convocation-language could excel;
In volumes prov'd the church without defence,
By nothing guarded but by Providence ;
How grace and moderation difagree;
And violence advances charity.
Thus writ till none would read, becoming foon
A wretched fcribbler, of a rare buffoon.
Mankind my fond propitious power has try'd,
Too oft' to own, too much to be deny❜d.
And all I ask are fhades and filent bowers,
To pafs in foft forgetfulness my hours.
Oft' have my fears fome diftant villa chofe,
O'er their quietus where fat judges dose,
And lull their cough and confcience to repose:
Or, if fome cloister's refuge I implore,
Where holy drones o'er dying tapers fnore,
Sometimes among the Cafpian cliffs I creep,
Where folitary bats and fwallows fleep;
Or, if some cloifter's refuge I implore,
Where holy drones o'er dying tapers fnore,
Still Naifau's arms a foft repose deny,
Keep me awake, and follow where I fly.
The peals of Naffau's arms thefe eyes unclose,
Mine he molefts, to give the world repose.
That ease I offer with contempt he flies,
His couch a trench, his canopy the skies.
Nor climes nor feasons his refolves control,
Th' equator has no heat, no ice the pole.
With arms refistless o'er the globe he flies,
And leaves to Jove the empire of the skies.
But, as the flothful God to yawn begun,
He fhook off the dull mift, and thus went on :
'Twas in this reverend dome I fought repose,
Thefe walls were that asylum I had chofe.
Here have I rul'd long undisturb'd with broils,
And laugh'd at heroes, and their glorious toils.
My annals are in mouldy mildews wrought,
With eafy infignificance of thought.
Since he has blefs'd the weary world with peace,
And with a nod has bid Bellona ceafe;
I fought the covert of fome peaceful cell,
Where filent fhades in harmless raptures dwell;
That reft might past tranquillity restore,
And mortal never interrupt me more.
Ver. 183.
Nought underneath this roof but damps are found,
Nought heard but drowfy beetles buzzing round.
Spread cobwebs hide the walls, and duft the floors,
And midnight filence guards the noiseless doors.
But now fome busy, enterprizing brain
Invents new fancies to renew my pain,
And labours to diffolve my easy reign.
With that, the God his darling Phantom calls,
And from his faltering lips this message falls:
Since mortals will difpute my power, I'll try
Who has the greatest empire, they or I.
Find Envy out, fome prince's court attend,
Most likely there you'll meet the famish'd fiend;
Or where dull critics authors' fate foretell;
Or where stale maids, or meagre eunuchs, dwell;
Tell the bleak fury what new projects reign,
Among the homicides of Warwick-lane;
And what th' event, unless the strait inclines
To blaft their hopes, and baffle their defigns.
More he had fpoke, but fudden vapours rife,
And with their filken cords tie down his eyes.
Or in cabals, or camps, or at the bar,
Or where ill poets pennylefs confer,
Or in the fenate-house at Weftminster.
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