Imatges de pÓgina

Nor oft can the receiver know,
Whether he has the gift or no.
On airy wings you take your Aight,
And Ay unseen both day and night;
Conceal your form with various tricks;
And few know how or where


fix. Yet some, who ne'er bestow'd thee, boast That they to others give thee moft. Mean time, the wise a question start, 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 bestows thee.



THOUGH I, alas! a pris’ner be,

My trade is pris’ners to set free.
No flave his lord's commands obeys
With such 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 deposited the spoils
Of busy mortals endless toils :
Here, with an easy search we find
The foul corruptions of mankind.
The wretched purchase here behold
Of traitors, who their country fold.

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

Necessity, the tyrant's law, All human race must hither draw; All prompted by the same desire, The vig’rous youth, and aged fire. Behold, the coward and the brave, The haughty prince, the humble flave, Physician, lawyer, and divine, All make chlations at this shrine. Some enter boldly, fome by stealth, And leave behind their fruitless wealth. For while the bashful sylvan maid, As half asham’d, and half afraid, Approaching finds it hard to part With that which dwelt so near her heart;


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

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

In at this gulph all off’rings pass,
And lie an undistinguish'd mass.
Deucalion, to restore mankind,
Was bid to throw the stones behind;
So those, who here their gifts convey,
Are forc'd to look another way;
For few, a chosen few, must know
The mysteries that lie below.

Sad charnel-house! a disinal dome,
For which all mortals leave their home;
The young, the beautiful, and brave,
Here bury'd in one common grave ;
Where each supply of dead renews
Unwholesome damps, offer five ders:
And lo! the writing on the walls
Points out where cach new victim falls;
The food of worms, and beasts obscene,
Who round the vault luxuriant reign.
Vol. VII.


See where those mangled corpses lie,
Condemn’d by female hands to die;
A comely dame, once clad in white,
Lies there consign’d to endless night;
By cruel hands her blood was spilt,

her wealth was all her guilt.

And here six virgins in a tomb, All-beauteous offspring of one womb, Oft in the train of Venus seen, As fair and lovely as their queen : In royal garments each was drest, Each with a gold and purple vest; I saw them of their garments stript, Their throats were cut, their bellies ript, Twice were they bury'd, twice were born, Twice from their sepulchres were torn; But now dismember'd here are caft, And find a resting-place at last.

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


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

Yet, from this mingled mass of things,
In time a new creation springs.
These crude materials once shall rise
To fill the earth, and air, and skies:
İn various forms appear again,
Of vegetables, brutes, and men.
So fove pronounc'd among the gods,
Olympus trembling as he nods.



Translated in the Year 1724. A

H, Strephon, how can you despise

Her, who without thy pity dies?
To Strephon I have still been true,
And of as noble blood as you;
Fair issue of the genial bed,
A virgin in thy bosom bred;
Embrac'd thee closer than a wife;
When thee I leave, I leave my life.


G 2

« AnteriorContinua »