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These silver drops, like morning dew, .

Foretel the fervour of the day:
So from one cloud soft showers we view,

And blasting lightnings burst away.
The stars that fall from Celia's eye,
Declare our doom is drawing nigh.
The baby in that sunny sphere

So like a Phaëton appears,
That heav'n, the threaten'd world to spare,

Thought fit to drown him in her tears :
Else might th' ambitious nymph aspire
To set, like him, heaven too on fire.

E. OF ROCHESTER.

ON SILENCE. SILENCE! 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 heaven was form'd or

earth, Ere fruitful thought conceiv'd creation's birth, 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 clamorous race of busy humankind. 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.

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But rebel wit deserts thee oft in vain;

Lost in the maze of words he turns again,
And seeks a súrer state, and courts thy gentle reign.

Afflicted sense thou kindly dost set free,

Oppress'd with argumental tyranny,
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 confess'd;

Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast,
And 'tis in thee at last that wisdom seeks for rest.
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.
But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are

free,
How church and state should be oblig'd to thee;
At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou

be ! 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 favourites 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 DORSET.

ARTEMISTA.
THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
I of councils, classics, fathers, wits;

Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke; Yet in some things methinks she fails, 'Twere well if she would pare her nails,

And wear a cleaner smock. Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, Such nastiness, and so much pride,

Are oddly join'd by fate:
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face ;

All white and black beside: Dauntless her look, her gesture proud, Her voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her stride.
So have I seen in black and white,
A prating thing, a magpye hight,

Majestically stalk;
A stately, worthless animal,
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail,

All flutter, pride, and talk.

PHRYNE.

DHRYNE has talents for mankind,
I Open she was, and unconfin'd,

Like some free port of trade; Merchants unloaded here their freight. And agents from each foreign state

Here first their entry made.

Her learning and good-breeding such,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniards of French came to her;
To all obliging she'd appear:
'Twas, Si Signior', 'twas, 'yaw Mypheer'
'Twas, 'S'il vous plait, Monsieur,
Obscure by birth, renown’d by crimes,
Still changing names, religion, climes,

At length she turos a bride:
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades.

And flutters in her pride.
So have I known those insects fair
(Which curious Germans hold so rare)

Still vary shapes and dyes ;
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,

Then painted butterflies.

DR. SWIFT. THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON

DARSON, these things in thy possessing,
I Are better than the bishop's blessing:
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need:
October store, and best Virginia,
Tythe pig, and mortuary guinea:
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank’d,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd ;
A large concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the first, when prince:
A chronicle of ancient standing;
A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in:
The polyglott--three parts--my text,
Howbeit, likewise now to my next :

Lo here the Septuagint,--and Paul,
To sum the whole,--the close of all.

He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
And fast on Fridays...if he will;
Toast church and queen, explain the news,
Talk with church-wardens about pews;
Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at Doctor Sw**t,

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