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And vary'd Tulips show so dazling gay,
Blusing in bright diversities of day.
Each painted flowret in the lake below
Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narcissus on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compose,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;
There the green Infants in their beds are laid,
The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade.
Here Orange trees with blooms and pendants shine,
And vernal honours to their autumn join;
Exceed their promise in their ripen’d store,
Yet in the rising blossom promise more.
There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play,
By Laurels shielded from the piercing day:
Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Nor seeks in vain for succour to the stream,
The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves,
At once a shelter from her boughs receives.
Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
And Winter's Coolness spite of Summer's rays.
WHILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright,
Proud grief sits swelling in her eyes : The Sun, next those the fairelt light,
Thus from the Ocean first did rise :
And thus thro’ Mists we see the Sun,
Which else we durft not gaze upon.
These filver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day :
So from one cloud soft showers we view,
And blasting lightnings burft away.
The stars that fall from Celia's eye,
Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.
The Baby in that sunny Sphere
So like a Phaëton appears,
That Heav'n, the threaten’d World to spare,
Thought fit to drown him in her Tears :
Else might th' ambitious Nymph aspire,
To set, like him, Heaven too on fire,
ILENCE! coeval with Eternity ;
Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be, 'Twas one vast Nothing, all, and all flept fast in thee.
II. Thine was the sway, ere heaven was form’d, or earth,
Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth,
Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.
Then various elements, against thee join'd,
In one more various animal combin’d,
And fram'd the clamorous race of busy Human-kind.
IV. The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low,
Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show,
And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.
But rebel Wit deserts thee oft in vain;
Lost in the maze of Words he turns again,
And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign.
Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free,
Oppress’d with argumental tyranny,
And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee.
With thee in private modest Dulness lies,
And in thy bosom lurks in Thought's disguise;
Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wise !
Yet thy indulgence is by both confeft;
Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast,
And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest.
Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name,
The only honour of the wishing dame;
Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of Fame.
But couldst thou seize fome tongues that now are free,
How Church and State should be oblig'd to thee !
At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome wouldst thou be!
Yet speech ev’n there, subraislively withdraws,
From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause:
pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy Laws.
Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,
What Favourites gain, and what the Nation owes,
Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.
The country wit, religion of the town,
The courtier's learning, policy o'th' gown,
Are best by thee express’d; and shine in thee alone,
The parson's cant, the lawyer's fophiftry,
Lord's quibble, critic's jest; all end in thee,
All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally,
HOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke:
Yet in some things methinks she fails,
'Twere well if she would pair her nails,
And wear a cleaner smock.
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Such nastiness, and so much pride,
Are oddly join’d by fate:
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpfe upon a bed,
That lies and stinks in frate.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;
All white and black beside :
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,
And masculine her stride.
So have I seen, in black and white
A prating thing, a Magpye hight,
A ftately, worthlefs animal,
That plies the tongue,