Imatges de pÓgina

Nor oft can the receiver know,
Whether he has the gift or no.

On airy wings you take your flight,
And fly unfeen both day and night;
Conceal your form with various tricks;
And few know how or where you fix.
Yet fome, who ne'er beftow'd thee, boast
That they to others give thee moft.
Mean time, the wife a queftion ftart,
If thou a real being art;

Or, but a creature of the brain,
That gives imaginary pain:

But the fly giver better knows thee;
Who feels true joys when he beftows thee.



THOUGH I, alas! a pris'ner be,
My trade is pris'ners to fet free.

No flave his lord's commands obeys
With fuch infinuating ways.
My genius piercing, sharp and bright,
Wherein the men of wit delight.
The clergy keep me for their ease,
And turn and wind me as they please.

A new

Here lie depofited the fpoils
Of bufy mortals endless toils :
Here, with an eafy fearch we find
The foul corruptions of mankind.
The wretched purchase here behold
Of traitors, who their country fold.

This gulph infatiable imbibes The lawyer's fees, the statesman's bribes. Here, in their proper fhape and mien, Fraud, perjury, and guilt are seen.

Neceffity, the tyrant's law,
All human race muft hither draw;
All prompted by the fame defire,
The vig'rous youth, and aged fire.
Behold, the coward and the brave,
The haughty prince, the humble flave,
Phyfician, lawyer, and divine,
All make oblations at this fhrine.
Some enter boldly, fome by stealth,
And leave behind their fruitless wealth.
For while the bashful fylvan maid,
As half afham'd, and half afraid,
Approaching finds it hard to part

With that which dwelt fo near her heart;


The courtly dame, unmov'd by fear,
Profufely pours her offerings here.

A treasure here of learning lurks,
Huge heaps of never-dying works;
Labours of many an antient fage,
And millions of the prefent age.

In at this gulph all off'rings pafs,
And lie an undistinguish'd mass.
Deucalion, to reftore mankind,
Was bid to throw the ftones behind;
So thofe, who here their gifts convey,
Are forc'd to look another way;
For few, a chofen few, muft know
The mysteries that lie below.

Sad charnel-houfe! a difmal dome, For which all mortals leave their home; The young, the beautiful, and brave, Here bury'd in one common grave; Where each fupply of dead renews Unwholefome damps, offerfive dews : And lo! the writing on the walls Points out where each new victim falls; The food of worms, and beafts obfcene, Who round the vault luxuriant reign.




See where those mangled corpfes lie,
Condemn'd by female hands to die;
A comely dame, once clad in white,
Lies there confign'd to endless night;
By cruel hands her blood was fpilt,
And yet her wealth was all her guilt.

And here fix virgins in a tomb,
All-beauteous offspring of one womb,
Oft in the train of Venus feen,
As fair and lovely as their queen :
In royal garments each was dreft,
Each with a gold and purple veft;
I faw them of their garments ftript,
Their throats were cut, their bellies ript,
Twice were they bury'd, twice were born,
Twice from their fepulchres were torn;
But now difmember'd here are caft,
And find a refting-place at last.

Here oft the curious trav'ler finds The combat of oppofing winds: And feeks to learn the fecret cause, Which alien feems from nature's laws; Why at this cave's tremendous mouth, He feels at once both North and South: Whether

Whether the winds, in caverns pent,
Through clefts oppugnant force a vent:
Or whether, op'ning all his flores,
Fierce Eolus in tempeft roars.

Yet, from this mingled mass of things, In time a new creation fprings. Thefe crude materials once fhall rife To fill the earth, and air, and fkies: In various forms appear again, Of vegetables, brutes, and men. So Jove pronounc'd among the gods, Olympus trembling as he nods.




Tranflated in the Year 1724.

AH, Strephon, how can you despise

Her, who without thy pity dies?

To Strephon I have ftill been true,
And of as noble blood as you;
Fair iffue of the genial bed,

A virgin in thy bofom bred;
Embrac'd thee clofer than a wife;
When thee I leave, I leave

G 2

my life.


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