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Ne village is without, on either side,
All up the silver Thames, or all adown;
Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd
OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE.
AIR Charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize,
This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.
ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN, IN WHICH WAS PAINTED THE STORY OF CEPHALUS AND PROCRIS,
WITH THE MOTTO, AURA VENI.
OME gentle Air! th' Æolian shepherd said,
At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives:
1 [Edmund Waller, born in 1605, died in 1687. He has written innumerable pieces, in which the complimentary element overpowers the erotic, and which may have suggested these imitative
2 [I prefer placing the apostrophe as above, since Waller was in the habit of sounding the e in the pret. and part. ending.]
AIN would my Muse the flow'ry Treasures sing,
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,
There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play,
ILE Celia's Tears make sorrow bright,
Thus from the Ocean first did rise:
1[Abraham Cowley was born in 1618 and lived till 1667. His Pindaric Odes constitute his chief title to poetic fame; but his love of Botany to which The Garden alludes, is specially
exemplified in his Latin poem, in six books, of Plants. The conceits in the second of these parodies fall short of Cowley's ordinary manner in variety and vigour, as well as in extravagance.]
These silver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day:
So from one Cloud soft show'rs we view,
The Baby in that sunny Sphere
So like a Phaethon appears,
That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to spare,
E. OF ROCHESTER.
ILENCE! coeval with Eternity;
Thou wert, ere Nature's-self began to be,
'Twas one vast Nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee.
Thine was the sway, ere heav'n was form'd, or earth,
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 clam'rous race of busy Human-kind.
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 ;
1 John Wilmot Earl of Rochester, born at Ditchley near Woodstock in Oxfordshire, in 1647, came to court in his eighteenth year, and was soon admitted into the closest familiarity with the Merry Monarch. He behaved gallantly during a naval campaign in which he took part in 1665, and after his return to court became a kind of coarse Alcibiades of his age. His poems have little wit and much effrontery-perhaps the best specimen of either quality will be found in
his impudent Trial of the Poets for the Bays, imitated from Boileau. The verses on Nothing, parodied by Pope, are said to have been due in part to George Villiers Duke of Buckingham. See Horace Walpole's account of Rochester's writings, prefixed to the narrative in which bishop Burnet unctuously recounts his conversion of so unpromising a subject on the eve of death (1680).]
Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free,
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 confest;
And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest.
Silence the knave's repute, the whore's good name,
But could'st thou seize some tongues that now are free,
At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome would'st thou be! 30
Yet speech ev'n there, submissively withdraws,
From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause: Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy Laws.
Past services of friends, good deeds of foes, What Fav'rites 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 sophistry, Lord's quibble, critic's jest; all end in thee, All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally.
E. OF DORSET1.
HO' Artemisia talks, by fits,
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Are oddly join'd by fate:
On her large squab you find her spread,
That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
All white and black beside:
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
And masculine her stride.
So have I seen, in black and white
A stately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,
Popen she was, and unconfin'd,
HRYNE had talents for mankind,
Like some free port of trade:
Her learning and good breeding such,
Spaniards or French came to her:
'Twas S'il vous plaist, Monsieur.
[Charles Sackville Earl of Dorset was born in 1637, a lineal descendant of the illustrious author of the Miror for Magistrates and Gorboduc. He took part in the Dutch war under the Duke of York, and before the engagement which ended
in the blowing up of the Dutch admiral Opdam's vessel, composed his famous ballad To all you Ladies now at land. He afterwards became a favourite courtier of King William III. and died in 1706. See Epitaph, No. 1. infra.]