Her drefs neglected, and unbound her hair,
She feem'd the dying image of defpair.
How lately did this celebrated thing
Blaze in the box, and fparkle in the ring;
Till the green-fickness and love's force betray'd
To Death's remorfeless arms th' unhappy maid!
All o'er confus'd the guilty lover stood,
The light forfook his eyes, his cheeks the blood;
An icy horror fhiver'd in his look,
As to the cold-complexion'd nymph he spoke :
Tell me, dear fhade, from whence such anxious care, Your looks diforder'd, and your bosom bare? Why thus you languifh like a drooping flower, Crush'd by the weight of fome relentless shower? Your languid looks, your late ill-conduct tell ; Oh that, instead of trash, you 'd taken steel!
Stabb'd with th' unkind reproach, the conscious maid Thus to her late infulting lover faid : When ladies liften not to loose defire, You ftile our modefty, our want of fire: Smile or forbid, encourage or reprove, You ftill find reasons to believe we love : Vainly you think a liking we betray, And never mean the peevish things we say. Few are the fair-ones of Rufilla's make, Unafk'd the grants, uninjur'd fhe 'll forfake: But feveral Cælia's, feveral ages boast,
That like, where reafon recommends the moft.
Where heavenly truth and tenderness conspire,
Chafte paffion may perfuade us to defire.
Your fex, he cry'd, as cuftom bids, behaves; In forms the tyrant ties fuch haughty flaves.
To do nice conduct right, you nature wrong;
Impulses are but weak, where reason's strong.
Some want the courage; but how few the flame!
They like the thing, that startle at the name;
The lonely Phoenix, though profefs'd a nun,
Warms into love, and kindles at the fun;
Thofe tales of fpicy urns and fragrant fires
Are but the emblems of her fcorch'd defires.
Then, as he ftrove to clafp the fleeting fair,
His empty arms confess'd th' impaffive air.
From his embrace th' unbody'd spectre flies,
And, as the mov'd, she chid him with her eyes.
They haften now to that delightful plain,
Where the glad manes of the blefs'd remain :
Where Harvey gathers fimples, to bestow
Immortal youth on heroes' fhades below.
Soon as the bright Hygeia was in view,
The venerable fage her prefence knew:
Hail, blooming goddefs! thou propitious power, 305
Whose bleffings mortals more than life implore!
With fo much luftre your bright looks endear,
That cottages are courts where thofe appear.
Mankind, as you vouchfafe to smile or frown,
Finds ease in chains, or anguish in a crown.
With juft refentments and contempt you fee
The foul diffenfions of the Faculty;
How your fad fickening art now hangs her head,
And, once a fcience, is become a trade.
Her fons ne'er riffe her myfterious store,
But study nature lefs, and lucre more.
Not fo when Rome to th' Epidaurian rais'd
A temple, where devoted incenfe blaz'd.
Oft' father Tiber views the lofty fire,
As the learn'd fon is worship'd like the fire;
The fage with Romulus like honours claim;
The gift of life and laws were then the fame.
I how'd of old, how vital currents glide,
And the meanders of the refluent tide.
Then, Willis, why fpontaneous actions here,
And whence involuntary motions there:
And how the fpirits, by mechanic laws,
In wild careers tumultuous riots cause.
Nor would our Wharton, Bates, and Gliffon, lie
From Heaven and great Naffau he has the mace.
Th' opprefs'd to his afylum ftill repair ;
Arts he fupports, and learning is his care..
He foftens the harsh rigour of the laws,
Blunts their keen edge, and grinds their harpy claws;
And graciously he cafts a pitying eye
On the fad ftate of virtuous poverty.
Whene'er he speaks, Heaven! how the liftening throng Dwells on the melting mufic of his tongue!
His arguments are emblems of his mien,
Mild, but not faint, and forcing, though ferene;
And, when the power of eloquence he 'd try,
Here lightning ftrikes you; there foft breezes figh.
To him you must your fickly state refer,
Your charter claims him as your vifiter.
Your wounds he'll close, and fovereignly restore
Your science to the height it had before.
Then Naffau's health fhall be your glorious aim;
His life fhould be as lafting as his fame.
Some princes' claims from devaftations fpring;
He condefcends in pity to be king:
And, when amidst his olives plac'd he stands,
And governs more by candour than commands;
Ev'n then not lefs a hero he
appears,
Than when his laurel-diadem he wears.
Would Phoebus, or his Granville, but inspire
Their facred vehemence of poetic fire;
To celebrate in fong that god-like power,
Which did the labouring universe restore :
Fair Albion's cliffs would echo to the ftrain,.
And praife the arm that conquer'd, to regain
The earth's repose, and empire o'er the main.
Still may th' immortal man his cares repeat,
To make his bleffings endless as they 're great:
Whilft malice and ingratitude confess
They 've ftrove for ruin long without fuccefe.
When, late, Jove's eagle from the pile shall rife
To bear the victor to the boundless skies,
Awhile the god puts off paternal care,
Neglects the earth, to give the heavens a star.
Near thee, Alcides, fhall the hero fhine;
His rays refembling, as his labours, thine.
Had fome fam'd patriot, of the Latian blood,
Like Julius great, and like Octavius good,
But thus preferv'd the Latian liberties,
Afpiring columns foon had reach'd the skies :
Loud Io's the proud capitol had shook,
And all the statues of the gods had spoke.
No more the Sage his raptures could pursue:
He paus'd;
and Celfus with his Guide withdrew. 385
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