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Great was the cause ; our old solemnities

The Inachians view the slain with vast surprise, From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise ;

Her twisting volumes, and her rolling eyes, But, saved from death, our Argives yearly pay Her spotted breast, and gaping womb imbrued These grateful honours to the god of day.

With livid poison, and our children's blood. "When by a thousand darts the Python slain, The crowd in stupid wonder fix'd appear, With orbs unroll'd, lay covering all the plain, Pale e'en in joy, nor yet forget to fear. (Transfix'd as o'er Castalia's streams he hung, Some with vast beams the squalid corpse engage, And suck'd new poison with his triple tongue,) And weary all the wild efforts of rage. To Argo's realms the victor god resorts,

The birds obscene, that nightly flock'd to taste, And enters old Crotopus' humble courts.

With hollow screeches fed the dire repast; This rural prince one only daughter bless'd, And ravenous dogs, allured by scented blood, That all the charms of blooming youth possess'd : And starving wolves ran howling to the wood. Fair was her face, and spotless was her mind, * But, fired with rage, from cleft Parnassus' brow Where filial love with virgin sweetness join'd. Avenging Phæbus bent his deadly bow, Happy! and happy still she might have proved, And hissing flew the feather'd fates below: Were she less beautiful, or less beloved !

A night of sultry clouds involved around But Phæbus loved, and on the flowery side

The towers, the fields, and the devoted ground: Of Nemea's stream the yielding fair enjoy'd : And now a thousand lives together Aed, Now, ere ten moons their orb with light adorn, Death with his scythe cut off the fatal thread, The illustrious offspring of the god was born; And a whole province in his triumph led. The nymph, her father's anger to evade,

But Phæbus, ask'd why noxious fires appear, Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade;

And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year, To woods and wilds the pleasing burthen bears, Demands their lives by whom his monster fell, And trusts her infant to a shepherd's cares. And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to hell.

• How mean a fate, unhappy child is thine ! Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal fame Ah, how unworthy those of race divine !

Attend thy manes, and preserve thy name,
On flowery herbs in some green covert laid, Undaunted hero! who, divinely brave,
His bed the ground, his canopy the shade,

In such a cause disdain'd thy life to save;
lle mires with the bleating lambs his cries, But view'd the shrine with a superior look,
While the rude swain his rural music tries, And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke :
To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes.

With piety, the soul's securest guard, Yet e'en in those obscure abodes to live,

And conscious virtue, still its own reward, Was more, alas ! than cruel fate would give; Willing I come, unknowing how to fear; For on the grassy verdure as he lay,

Nor shalt thou, Phæbus, find a suppliant here.
And breathed the freshness of the early day, Thy monster's death to me was owed alone,
Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore,

And 'tis a deed too glorious to disown.
Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the gore. Behold him here, for whom, so many days,
The astonish'd mother, when the rumour came, Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen rays;
Forgets her father, and neglects her fame,

For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy care,
With loud complaints she fills the yielding air, Such numbers fell by pestilential air !
And beats her breast, and rends her flowing hair ; But if the abandon'd race of human kind
Then wild with anguish to her sire she flies, From gods above no more compassion find;
Demands the sentence, and contented dies. If such inclemency in heaven can dwell,

• But, touch'd with sorrow for the dead too late, Yet why must unoffending Argos feel The raging god prepares to avenge her fate. The vengeance due to this unlucky steel ? Ile sends a monster, horrible and fell,

On me, on me, let all thy fury fall, Begot by furies in the depths of hell.

Nor err from me, since I deserve it all: The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears ;

Unless our desert cities please thy sight, High on a crown a rising snake appears,

Or funeral flames reflect a grateful light, Guards her black front, and hisses in her hairs; Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom rend, About the realm she walks her dreadful round, And to the shades a ghost triumphant send; When night with sable wings o'erspreads the But for my country let my fate atone, ground,

Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my own.' Devours young babes before their parents' eyes, Merit distress'd, impartial Heaven relieves : And feeds and thrives on public miseries.

Unwelcome life relenting Phæbus gives : But generous rage the bold Choræbus warms, For not the vengeful power, that glow'd with rage, Chorebus, famed for virtue, as for arms;

With such amazing virtue durst engage. Some few like him, inspired with martial flame, The clouds dispersed, Apollo's wrath expired, Thought a short life well lost for endless fame. And from the wondering god the unwilling youth reThese, where two ways in equal parts divide,

tired. The direful monster from afar descried,

Thence we these altars in his temple raise, Two bleeding babes depending at her side, And offer annual honours, feasts, and praise ; ! Whose panting vitals, warm with life, she draws, Those solemn feasts propitious Phæbus please ;

And in their hearts imbrues her cruel claws. These honours still renew'd, his ancient wrath appease
The youths surround her with extended spears ; • But say, illustrious guest!' adjoin'd the king,
But brave Chorcbus in the front appears, "What name you bear, from what high race you spring
Deep in her breast he plunged his shining sword, The noble Tydeus stands consess'd, and known
And hell's dire monster back to bell restored. Tour neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon.

6

Relate your fortunes, while the friendly night Or Mithra, to whose beams the Persian bows,
And silent hours to various talk invite.'

And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows; The Theban bends on earth his gloomy eyes, Mithra, whose head the blaze of light adorns, Confused, and sadly thus at length replies : Who grasps the struggling heifer's lunar horns * Before these altars how shall I proclaim (Oh generous prince !) my nation or my name, Or through what veins our ancient blood has roll'd? THE FABLE OF DRYOPE. Let the sad tale for ever rest untold !

FROM
Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown,
You seek to share in sorrows not your own;

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES,
Know then, from Cadmus I derive my race,

Book 9. Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native place.'

To whom the king (who felt his generous breast She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs, Touch'd with concern for his unhappy guest) When the fair consort of her son replies : Replies : Ah, why forbears the son to name

Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan, His wretched father, known too well by fame?

And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own; Fame, that delights around the world to stray,

Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate Scorns not to take our Argos in her way.

A nearer woe, a sister's stranger fate. E'en those who dwell where suns al distance roll,

No nymph of all Echalia could compare In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the pole;

For beauteous form with Dryope the fair, And those who tread the burning Libyan lands,

Her tender mother's only hope and pride The faithless Syrtes, and the moving sands;

|(Myself the offspring of a second bride.) Who view the western sea's extremest bounds,

This nymph, compress’d by him who rules the day, Or drink of Ganges in their eastern grounds ;

Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey, All these the woes of Edipus have known,

Andræmon loved; and, bless'd in all those charms Your fates, your furies, and your haunted town

That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms.
If on the sons the parents' crimes descend,
What prince from those his lineage can defend ?

A lake there was, with shelving banks around,

Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd. Be this thy comfort, that 'tis thine to efface

These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought, With virtuous acts thy ancestor's disgrace,

And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought ; And be thyself the honour of thy race.

Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she press'd But see! the stars begin to steal away,

Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast. And shine more faintly at approaching day.

Not distant far, a watery lotos grows; Now pour the wine ; and in your tuneful lays

The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs Once more resound the great Apollo's praise/

Adorn'd with blossoms, promised fruits that vie Oh, father Phæbus! whether Lycia's coast

In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye:
And snowy mountains thy bright presence boast ;
Whether to sweet Castalia thou repair,

Of these she cropp'd to please her infant son; And bathe in silver dews thy yellow hair;

And I myself the same rash act had done :

But lo! I saw (as near her side I stood) Or, pleased to find fair Delos float no more,

The violated blossoms drop with blood.
Delight in Cynthus, and the shady shore;

Upon the tree I cast a frightful look;
Or choose thy seat in llion's proud abodes,
The shining structures raised by labouring gods ;

The trembling tree with sudden horror shook.

Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true,) By thee the bow and mortal shafts are borne ;

As from Priapus' lawless lust she few, Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn:

Forsook her form; and, fixing here, became Skill'd in the laws of secret fate above,

A flowery plant, which still preserves her name. And the dark counsels of almighty Jove, 'Tis thine the seeds of future war to know,

This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight,

My trembling sister strove to urge her flight :
The change of sceptres, and impending woe;
When direful meteors spread through glowing air

And first the pardon of the nymphs implored,

And those offended sylvan powers adored : Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair.

But when she backward would have fled, she found Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst aspire

Her stiffening feet were rooted in the ground:
To excel the music of thy heavenly lyre ;

In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove,
Thy shafts avenged lewd Tityus' guilty flame,
The immortal victim of thy mother's fame;

And, as she struggles, only moves above;

She feels the encroaching bark around her grow Thy hand slew Python, and the dame who lost

By quick degrees, and cover all below:
Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast.
In Phlegyas' doom thy just revenge appears,

Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heaves

To rend her hair : her hand is fill'd with leaves : Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears :

Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye,

To rise, and shade her with a sudden green. The mouldering rock, that trembles from on high.

The child Amphissus, to her bosom press'd,

Perceived a colder and a harder breast, Propitious hear our prayer, O power divine ! And found the springs, that ne'er till then denied And on thy hospitable Argos shine,

Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried. Whether the style of Titan please thee more, I saw, unhappy! what I now relate, Whose purple rays the Achæmenes adore;

And stood the helpless witness of thy fate, Or great Osiris, who first taught the swain

Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd, · Pharian field to sow the golden grain;

There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade

Behold Adramon and the unhappy sire

Now the cleft rind inserted graffs receives, Appear, and for their Dryope inquire ;

And yields an offspring more than nature gives ; A springing tree for Dryope they find,

Now sliding streams the thirsty plants renew,
And print warm kisses on the panting rind; And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew, These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
And close embrace as to the roots they grew. Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
The face was all that now remain'd of thee, Her private orchards, wall’d on every side,
No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree;

To lawless sylvans all access denied.
Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear, How oft the satyrs and the wanton fauns,
From every leaf distils a trickling tear,

Who haunt the forests, or frequent the lawns,
And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains, The god whose ensigns scares the birds of prey,
Thus through the trembling boughs in sighs complains : And old Silenus, youthful in decay,
'If to the wretched any faith be given,

Employ'd their wiles and unavailing care, I swear by all the unpitying powers of heaven, To

pass

the fences, and surprise the fair! No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred; Like these, Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame, In mutual innocence our lives we led :

Like these, rejected by the scornful dame. If this be false, let these new greens decay, To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears ; Let sounding axes lop my limbs away,

And first a reaper from the field appears, And crackling flames on all my honours prey! Sweating he walks, while loads of golden grain But from my branching arms this infant bear, O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming swain. Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care : Oft o'er bis back a crooked scythe is laid, And to his mother let him oft be led,

And wreaths of hay his sun-burnt temples shade ; Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed ; Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears, 'Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame Like one who late unyoked the sweating steers. Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name, Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the vines, To hail this tree; and say with weeping eyes, And the loose stragglers to their ranks confines. Within this plant my hapless parent lies :

Now gathering what the bounteous year allows, And when in youth he seeks the shady woods He pulls ripe apples from the bending boughs. Oh, let him ily the crystal lakes and floods,

A soldier now, he with his sword appears ; Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, warn'd by me, A fisher next, his trembling angle bears. Believe a goddess shrined in every tree.

Each shape he varies, and each art he tries, My sire, my sister, and my spouse farewell! On her bright charms to feast his longing eyes. If in your breast or love or pity dwell,

A female form at last Vertumnus wears, Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel With all the marks of reverend age appears, The browsing cattle, or the piercing steel.

His temples thinly spread with silver hairs : Farewell! and since I cannot bend to join

Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he goes, My lips to yours, advance at least to mine.

A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows. My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive,

The god, in this decrepit form array'd, While yet thy mother has a kiss to give.

The gardens entered, and the fruit survey'd; I can no more; the creeping rind invades

And • Happy you !' he thus address'd the maid, My closing lips, and hides my head in shades : *Whose charms as far all other nymphs out-shine, Remove your hands; the bark shall soon suffice As other gardens are excell'd by thine!' Without their aid to seal these dying eyes.' Then kiss'd the fair (his kisses warmer grow

She ceased at once to speak, and ceased to be; Than such as women on their sex bestow ;) And all the nymph was lost within the tree; Then, placed beside her on the flowery ground, Yet latent life through her new branches reign'd, Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty crown'd. And long the plant a human heat retain'd.

An elm was near, to whose embraces led,
The curling vine her swelling clusters spread:

He view'd her twining branches with delight, VERTUMNUS AND POMONA. And praised the beauty of the pleasing sight.

Yet this tall elm, but for his vine,' he said,

Had stood neglected, and a barren shade ;
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES,

And this fair vine, but that her arms surround

Her married elm, had crept along the ground. Book 4.

Ah beauteous maid ! let this example move

Your mind, averse from all the joys of love. THE fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign:

Deign to be loved, and every heart subdue : Of all the virgins of the sylvan train,

What nymph could e'er attract such crowds as you None caught the trees a nobler race to bear, Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur's arms, Or more improved the vegetable care.

Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms. ro her the shady grove, the flowery field, E'en now, when silent scorn is all they gain, The streams and fountains, no delights could yield; A thousand court you, though they court in vain

T'was all her joy the ripening fruits to tend, A thousand sylvans, demigods, and gods,
Ind see the boughs with happy burthens bend. That haunt our mountains, and our Alban woods.
The hook she bore instead of Cynthia's spear, But il' you'll prosper, mark what I advise,
r'o lop the growth of the luxuriant year,

Whom age and long experience render wise, l'o decent for the lawless shoots to bring, And one whose tender care is far above And teach the obedient branches where to spring. All that these lovers ever felt for love;

N

FROM

(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd ;) But as he glozeth with speeches soote, Fix on Vertumnus and reject the rest.

The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote; For his firm faith I dare engage my own;

Fore-piece and buttons all to-brest, Scarce to himself, himself is better known.

Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest.
To distant lands Vertumnus never roves ;

|* Te-he,' cried ladies; clerke nought spake ;
Like you, contented with his native groves ; Miss stared, and gray ducke cryeth, 'Quaake.
Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair; | O moder, moder,' quoth the daughter,
For you he lives : and you alone shall share Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
His last affection, as his early care.

Bette is to pine on coals and chalke,
Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,

Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke.
With youth immortal, and with beauty bless'd.
Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
And tries all forms that may Pomona please.

SPENSER.
But what should most excite a mutual flame,

THE ALLEY.
Your rural cares and pleasures are the same :
To him your orchard's early fruit are due,

In every town where Thamis rolls his tyde, (A pleasing offering when 'tis made by you) A narrow pass there is with houses low; Ile values these: but yet, alas ! complains,

Where, ever and anon, the stream is eyed, That still the best and dearest gift remains.

And many a boat, soft sliding to and fro. Vot the fair fruit that on yon branches glows

There oft are heard the notes of infant woe, With that ripe red the autumnal sun bestows;

The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,

How can ye, mothers, vex your children so ? Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies :

Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall, You, only you, can move the god's desire :

And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call. Oh, crown so constant and so pure a fire!

And on the broken pavement, here and there, Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;

Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie; Think, 'tis Vertumnus begg you to be kind :

A brandy and tobacco shop is near, So may no frost, when early buds appear,

And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by ; Destroy the promise of the youthful year;

And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry. Nor winds, when first your fiorid orchard blows,

At every door are sun-burnt matrons seen, Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs. Mending old nels to catch the scaly fry, This when the various god had urged in vain,

Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between ; He straight assumed his native form again; Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbour. Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,

hood I ween. As when through clouds the emerging sun appears, And, thence exerting his refulgent ray,

The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy)

Close at my heel with yelping treble flies; Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.

The whimpering girl, and hoarser screaming box, Force he prepared, but check'd the rash design;

Join to the yelping treble, shrilling crics;
For when, appearing in a form divine,
The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace

The scolding quean to louder notes doth rise,
Of charming features, and a youthful face;

And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound; In her soft breast consenting passions move,

To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.

The grunting hoge alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base are

drown'd.
IMITATIONS

Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,

Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
OF ENGLISH POETS. Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,

Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice :
Done by the Author in his Youth.

There learn'd she speech from tongues that sever

cease.

Slander beside her, like a magpie, chatters,
With Envy (spitting cat,) dread foe to peace;
Like a cursed cur, Malice before her clatters,
And, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to

tatters.

CHAUCER.
Women ben full of ragerie,
Yet gwinken nat sans secresie.
Thilka moral shall ye understond,
From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the fennes hath him betake,
To filch the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowsers hath he hent,
Not to be spied of ladies gent.
• But ho! our nephew,' crieth one,
‘Ho! quoth another, 'cozen John ;'
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,-
This silly clerke full low doth lout :
They asken that, and talken this,
.Lo! here is coz, and here is miss.'

Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand,

Her mouth was black as bull dog's at the stall;
She scratch'd, bit, and spared ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to al ;
Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call;
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall,
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
!Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch:

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Such Lambeth, envy of each band and gown; There in bright drops the crystal fountains play,
And Twickenham such, which fairer scenes enrich, By laurels shielded from the piercing day;
Grots, statues, urns, and Jo-n's dog and bitch, Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
Ne village is without, on either side,

Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
All up the silver Thames, or all adown;

Still turns her beauties from the invading beam, Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are eyed Nor seeks in vain for succour to the stream; Vales, spires, meandering streams, and Windsor's The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves, towery pride.

At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
Where summer's beauty midst of winter staye,

And winter's coolness spite of summer's rays.
WALLER.
OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE.
Foir charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize,

WEEPING
A heart resign'd, the conquest of your eyes :
Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail,

WHILE Celia's tears make sorrow bright,
Which winds and lightning both at once assail.

Proud grief sits swelling in her eyes : We were too bless'd with these enchanting lays,

The sun, next those the fairest light, Which must be heavenly when an angel plays :

Thus from the ocean first did rise; But killing charms your lover's death contrive,'

And thus through mists we see the sun,
Lest heavenly music should be heard alive.

Which else we durst not gaze upon.
Orpheus could charm the trees: but thus a tree, These silver drops, like morning dew,
Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he: Foretell the fervor of the day:
A poet made the silent wood

pursue,

So from one cloud soft showers we view,
This vocal wood had drawn the poet too.

And blasting lightnings burst away.
The stars that fall from Celia's eye,

Declare our doom is drawing nigh.
ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN.
In which was painted the Story of Cephalus and Pro-

The baby in that sunny sphere
cris, with the Motto, Aura veni.'

So like a Phaëton appears, COME, gentle air!' the Æolian shepherd said,

That heaven, the threaten'd world to spare, • While Procris panted in the secret shade ;

Thought fit to drown him in her tears :

Else might the ambitious nymph aspire
Come, gentle air,' the fairer Delia cries,
While at her feet her swain expiring lies.

To set, like him, heaven too on fire.
Lo, the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,
Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play!
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found,

EARL OF ROCHESTER.
Nor could that fatal dart more surely wound:

ON SILENCE.
Both gifts destructive to the givers prove;
Alike both lovers fall by those they love.

SILENCE! coeval with eternity,
Yet guiltless too the bright destroyer lives,

Thou wert, ere nature's self began to be; At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives ; 'Twas one vast nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee. She views the story with attentive eyes,

Thine was the sway, ere heav'n was formed, or earth: And pities Procris, while her lover dies.

Ere fruitful thought conceived creation's birth,

Or midwife word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth. COWLEY.

The various elements against thee join'd

In one more various animal combined,
THE GARDEN.

And framed the clamorous race of busy human-kind.
Fain would my muse the flowery treasure sing,
And humble glories of the youthful spring :

The tongue moved gently first, and speech was low, Where opening roses breathing sweets diffuse,

Till wrangling science taught it noise and show, And soft carnations shower their balmy dews;

And wicked wit arose, thy most abusive foe. Where lilies smile in virgin robes of white,

But rebel wit deserts thee oft in vain ; The thin undress of superficial light,

Lost in the maze of words he turns again, And varied tulips show so dazzling gay,

And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign. Blushing in bright diversities of day.

Afflicted sense thou kindly dost set free, Fach painted foweret in the lake below

Oppress'd with argumental tyranny, Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow ; And routed reason finds a safe retreat in thee. And pale Narcissus, on the bank, in vain

With thee in private modest dulness lies, Transformed, gazes on himself again.

And in thy bosom lurks in thought's disguise ; Here aged trees cathedral walks compose, And mount the hill in venerable rows;

Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise! 'There the green infants in their beds are laid,

Yet thy indulgence is by both confess'd ; The garden's hope, and its expected shade.

Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, Jlere orange trees with blooms and pendants shinc, And 'tis in thee at last that wisdom seeks for rest. And vernal honours to their autumn join;

Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good namne, Exceed their promise in their ripeo'd store,

The only honour of the wishing dame; Yet in the rising blossom promise more.

Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame.

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