FAIN IV. COWLEY. THE GARDEN. 'AIN would my Muse the flow'ry Treasures fing, And humble glories of the youthful Spring; Where opening Roses breathing sweets diffuse, And foft Carnations show'r their balmy dews; Where Lilies fmile in virgin robes of white, The thin undress of fuperficial Light, And vary'd Tulips show so dazzling gay, Blushing in bright diverfities of day. Each painted flowret in the lake below Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow; And pale Narciffus on the bank, in vain Transformed, gazes on himself again. Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compofe, 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 promife in their ripen'd store, Yet in the rifing bloffom promife more. S 15 There in bright drops the crystal Fountains play, Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam, 25 30 WEEPING. WHILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright, The Sun, next those the fairest light, Thefe filver drops, like morning dew, So from one cloud foft fhow'rs we view, And blafting lightnings burft away. The Stars that fall from Celia's eye, Declare our Doom in drawing nigh. The Baby in that funny Sphere So like a Phaeton appears, That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to fpare, v. E. of ROCHESTER. ON SILENCE. I. SILENCE! Coeval with Eternity; Thou wert, ere Nature's felf began to be, 'Twas one vaft Nothing, all, and all slept faft in thee. H. Thine was the fway, ere heav'n was form'd, or earth, Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth, Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth, III. Then various elements against thee join'd, In one more various animal combin'd, And fram'd the clam'rous race of bufy Human-kind. IV. The tongue mov'd gently firft, and fpeech was low, Till wrangling Science taught it noife and show, And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe. V. But rebel Wit deserts thee oft' in vain; Loft in the maze of Words he turns again, Afflicted Senfe thou kindly doft fet free, Opprefs'd with argumental tyranny, And routed Reason finds a fafe retreat in thee. VII. With thee in private mode Dulness lies, And in thy bofom lurks in Thought's difguife; Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wife! VIII. Yet thy indulgence is by both confeft; And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest. IX. Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name, The only honour of the wishing dame; The very want of tongue makes thee a kind of Fame. X. But could't thou feize fome tongues that now are free, How Church and State fhould be oblig❜d to thee? At Senate, and at Bar, how welcome would'ft thou be à XI. Yet fpeech ev❜n there, fubmiffively withdraws, From rights of fubjects, and the poor man's cause: Then pompous Silence reigns, and ftills the noify Laws. XII. 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. XIII. The country wit, religion of the town, The courtier's learning, policy o' th' gown, Are beft by thee express'd; and shine in thee alone. XIV. The parfon's cant, the lawyer's fophiftry, Lord's quibble, critic's jeft; all end in thee, All reft in peace at last, and sleep eternally. VI. E. of DORSET. ARTEMISIA. HO' Artemifia talks, by fits, THO' Of councils, claffics, fathers, wits; Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, On her large squab you find her fpread, That lies and ftinks in ftate. She wears no colours (fign of grace) All white and black befide: Dauntless her look, her gefture proud, Her voice theatrically loud, And mafculine her ftride. So have I feen, in black and white A ftately, worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, All flutter, pride, and talk, |