Lo, the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray, FAIN Would my muse the flow'ry treasures sing There the green infants in their beds are laid, covert to enjoy the breeze which he would invoke with the words "Come, gentle Air." A gossip hearing the words, thought he called on some nymph, and went and told his wife Procris. Her jealousy was roused, and she stole into the thicket to watch him. Hearing him call on the "air," "Aura," which she thought a woman's name, she uttered a sob. Cephalus, thinking he heard a wild animal in the thicket, discharged a javelin at it, and heard a human cry, On hurrying to the spot, he found his beloved wife dying. She besought him as a last request not to wed "Aura," and thus the mistake was revealed to him. 1 Abraham Cowley was born 1618, died 1667. A moral poet, but his poems were full of conceits, and are tedious and affected. 2 Narcissus, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with his own image in a brook, and was transformed into the flower that bears his name. Here orange trees with blooms and pendants shine, Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam, WEEPING. WHILE Celia's tears make sorrow bright, Thus from the ocean first did rise: These silver drops, like morning dew, The baby in that sunny sphere That heaven, the threatened world to spare, 1 The laurel tree into which Daphne was metamorphosed when she fled from Apollo. 2 The son of Apollo, who persuading his father to let him drive the chariot of the sun, set the earth on fire. III.-E. OF ROCHESTER.' ON SILENCE. I. SILENCE! coeval with eternity; Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be, 'Twas one vast nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee. II. Thine was the sway, ere heaven was formed, or earth, Ere fruitful thought conceived creation's birth, Or midwife word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth. III. Then various elements, against thee joined, In one more various animal combined, And framed the clam'rous race of busy human-kind. IV. The tongue moved gently first, and speech was low, Till wrangling science taught it noise and show. And wicked wit arose, thy most abusive foe. V. But rebel wit deserts thee oft in vain ; Lost in the maze of words he turns again, And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign. VI. Afflicted sense thou kindly dost set free, And routed reason finds a safe retreat in thee. 1 John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, born 1647, died 1680. He was a favourite of Charles II., and was considered a wit and clever satirical poet; but his poetry was coarse and profane, and is now happily forgotten. The only poem well known now of Rochester is his mock epitaph written on the door of Charles II.'s bedroom¬ Here lies our sovereign lord the king, Whose word no man relies on; Who never says a foolish thing, Charles (not inferior in wit) declared the epitaph to be true; for his words were his own, his acts those of his ministers. VII. 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! VIII. Yet thy indulgence is by both confest ; And 'tis in thee at last that wisdom seeks for rest. IX. Silence the knave's repute, the w -'s good name, The only honour of the wishing dame; Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame, X. But couldst thou seize some tongues that now are free, How Church and State should be obliged to thee! At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou be! XI. Yet speech even there, submissively withdraws, From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause; Then pompous silence reigns, and stills the noisy laws. XII. 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. XIII. The country wit, religion of the town, The courtier's learning, policy of the gown, Are best by thee expressed; and shine in thee alone. XIV. 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. IV.-E. OF DORSET.' ARTEMISIA." THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits, Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke: Haughty and huge as High-Dutch. bride, On her large squab you find her spread, That lies and stinks in state. She wears no colours (sign of grace) All white and black beside; And masculine her stride. So have I seen, in black and white A stately, worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, 1 "Lord Dorset was," says Walpole, "the finest gentleman of the voluptuous court of Charles II., and in the gloomy one of William III. He had as much wit as his first master, or his contemporaries Buckingham and Rochester, without the royal want of feeling, the duke's want of principle, or the earl's want of thought. His poems have sunk to oblivion for the general public." By Artemisia Pope is thought to have meant Queen Caroline. |