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The Fleece that has been by the Dier ftain'd,
Never again its native Whiteness gain'd.
Happy the Innocent, whose equal Thoughts
Are free from Anguish, as they are from Faults.
INSECTS. Sce Creation.
Thus when the Nile from Pharian Fields is fled,
And seeks with ebbing Tides his ancient Bed ;
The far Manure with heav'nly Fire is warm’d,
And crusted Creatures, as in Wombs, are form’d:
These, when they turn the Glebe, the Peasants find,
Some rude, and yet unfinish'd in their Kind ;
Short of their Limbs, a lame imperfect Birth,
One half alive, and one of
lifeless Earth. Dryd. Ovid.
INTEREST: Interest is the most prevailing Cheat ; The fly Seducer both of Age and Youth, They study that, and think they study Truth. Where Int'rest fortifies an Argument, Weak Reason serves to gain the Will's Affent; ( Panth. For Souls already warp'd receive an easy Bent.
Dryd. Hind, Int'rest, that bold Imposer on our Fate, That always to dark Ends misguides our Wills, And with false Happiness fmcoths o'er our Ills. Ofw. Don Carl.
Int'rest makes all seem Reason that leads to it. Dryd. Sec. Love,
All seek their Ends, and each would other cheac:
They only seem to hate and seem to love,
But Int'reft is the Point on which they move :
Their Friends are Foes, and Foes are Friends agen,
And in their Turns are Knaves and honest Men:
Our iron Age is grown an Age of Gold ;
'Tis who bids most, for all Men would be sold. Dryd. Amphis.
JOUSTS and Tournaments. See Battle, Duel, War.
The Challenger with fierce Defy
His Trumpet sounds, the Challeng'd makes Reply;
With Clangor rings the Field, resounds the vaulted Sky.
Their Vizors clos'd, their Lances in the Rest,
Or at the Helmet pointed, or the Crest;
They vanish from the Barrier, speed the Race,
And spurring, fee decrease the middle Space.
A Cloud of Smoke envellops either Hoft,
And all at once the Combatants are lost:
Darkling they join adverse, and shock unseen,
Courfers with Courfers juftling, Men with Me..
As lab'ring in Eclipse awhile they stay,
Till che next Blast of Wind restores the Day:
They look anew; the beauteous Form of Fight
Is chang'd, and War appears a griefly Sight.
Two Troops in fair Array one Moment show'd,
The next, a Field with fallen Bodies strow'd ;
Not half the Number in their Seats are found,
But Men and Sreeds lie grov'ling on the Ground.
The Poinrs of Spears are stuck within the Shield,
The Steeds without their Riders scour the Field.
The Knights unhors'd, on Foot renew the Fight;
The glitt'ring Falchions cast a gleaming Light:
Hawberks and Helms are hew'd with many a Wound ;
Our fpios the streaming Blood, and dies the Ground.
The mighty Maces with such Hafte descend,
They bleak the Bones, and make the solid Armour bend :
This thrusts amid the Throng with furious Force ;
at once the Horseman and the Horse:
That Courser stumbles 'on the fallen Steed,
And, flound'ring, throws the Rider o'er his Head:
One rolls along, a Foot-ball to his Foes;
One with a broken Truncheon deals his Blows.
By Bits they cease; and leaning on the Lance,
Take Breath awhile, and to new Fight advance.
Full oft the Rivals met, and neither
His ufmoft Force, for each forgot to ward.
The Head of this was to the Saddle bent,
That other backward to the Crupper sent.
Both were by turns unhors’d ; the jealous Blows
Fall thick and heavy when on Foot they clofe : ?
So deep their Falchions bite, that ev'ry Stroke
Pierc'd to the Quick; and equal Wounds they gave and cook.
Born far asunder by the Tides of Men,
Like Adamant and Sreel they meet agen.
So when a Tyger fucks the Bullock's Blood,
A famith'd Lion issuing from the Wood,
Roars loudly fierce, and challenges the Food:
Each claims Poffeffion, neither will obey,
But both their Paws are fasten'd on the Prey:
They bite, they tear, and while in vain they strive,
The Swains come arm'd between, and both to Distance drive,
Behold the noble Youths of Form divine, (Dr. Pal. Arc.
Upon the Plain advancing in a Line;
The Riders grace the Seeds, the Steeds with Glory line.
Thus marching on in military Pride,
Shours of Apr.ufe refound from Side to Side.
Their Casques adorn'd with Laurel-Wreaths they wear,
Each brandishing.aloft a cornel Spear:
Some at their backs their gilded Quivers bore,
Thuir Chains of busnįhd Gold hung down before.
Three graceful Troops they form'd upon the Green
Three graceful Leaders at their Head were seen;
Twelve follow'd every Chief, and left a Space between.
Th’unfledg'd Commanders, and their martial Train,
First make the Circuit of the fandy Plain :
Then at th'appointed Sign,
Drawn up in beauteous Order, form a Line:
The Second Signal sounds; the Troop divides
In Three distinguish'd Parts, with Three diftinguish'd Guides.
Again they close, and once again disjoyn,
In Troop to Troop oppos'd, and Line to Line :
They meet, they wheel, they throw their Darts afar
With harmless Rage, and well-dissembled War.
Then in a Round the mingled Bodies run;
Flying they follow, and pursuing fun.
Broken they break, and rallying
In other Forms the military Shew.
At last, in Order, undiscern'd they joyn,
And march together in a friendly Line.
And, as the Cretan Labyrinth of old,
With wand'ring Wave, and many a winding Fold,
Involv’d the weary Feet, without Redress,
In a round Errour, which deny'd Recess;
So fought the Trojan Boys in warlike Play,
Turn'd, and return'd, and still a diff'rent Way. Dryd. Virg.
Great Joys, as well as Sorrows, make a Stay ;
They hinder one another in the Crowd,
And none are heard, while all would speak aloud. Cowl.
Joy is in ev'ry Face without a Cloud:
As in the Scene of op'ning Paradise
The whole Creation danc'd at their new Being,
(Seb. Pleas'd to be what they were, pleas'd with each other. Dryd.Don
Refiftless Floods of sudden Pleasure roul
Along his Veins, and break in on his Soul :
He links beneath the Pressure of bis Joy,
And Joseph's Life does almost his destroy.
A secret Pleasure trickles thro' my Veins ;
It works about the Inlets of my Soul.
Dryd. Don Seb.
Now my Veins (well, and my Arms grasp the Poles,
My Breasts grow bigger with the vast Delight;
'Tis Length of Rapture, and an Age of Fury. Lee Alex.
Now by my Soul, and by these hoary Hairs,
I'm so o'erwhelm'd with Pleasure, that I feel
A latter Spring within my wither'd Limbs,
That shoots me out again.
Dryd, Don Seb.
Be gone my Cares; I give you to the Winds,
Far to be borne ; far from the happy Altamont ;
Far from the sacred Æra of my Love :
A better Order of succeeding Days
Gomes smiling forward, white and lucky all.
Castilla is the Mistress of the Year,
She crowns the Seasons with auspicious Beauty,
And bids ev'n all my Hours be good and joyful. Rom. Fair Pen:
Be still my Sorrows, and be loud my Joys!
Fly to the utmost Circle of the Seas,
Thou furious Tempest that haft toss'd my Mind,
And leave no Thought but Leonora there.
What's this I feel of boding in my Soul,
As if this Day were fatal ? Be it fo!
Fate shall have but the Leavings of my Love!
My Joys are gloomy, but withal are great :
The Lion, tho' he sees the Toils are set,
Yet pinch'd with raging Hunger, scours away,
Hunts in the Face of Danger all the Day,
(Span. Fry, At Night, with fullen Pleasure, grumbles o'er his Prey. Dryd.
She bids me hope! O Heav'ns ! she pities me; And Pity still fore-runs approaching Love, As Light'ning does the Thunder. Tune your Harps, Ye Angels, to that Sound! and thou my Heart, Make Room to entertain thy flowing Joys': Hence all my Griefs, and ev'ry anxious Care, One Look, and one kind Glance can cure Dispair.Dryd.Span.firy.
Am I then piry'd ? I have liv'd enough! Death, take me in this Moment of my Joy: Bur when my Soul is plung'd in long Oblivion, Spare this one Thought, Let me remember Pity; And so deceiv'd, think all my Life was bleft. Dryd. Span. Fry,
Oh you are fo divine, and cause such Fondness,
That my Heart leaps, and bears, and fain would out,
To make a Dance of Joy about your Feet :
Such Extasie Life cannot carry long!
The Day comes on so fast, and beamy Joy
Darts with such Fierceness on me, Night will follow. Lee Alex,
Know, be it known to the Limits of the World ;
Yet farther, let it pass yon dazling Roof,
The Mansions of the Gods, and strike 'em deaf
With everlasting Peals of thund'ring Joy!
Oh for this News let Warers break their Bounds;
Rocks, Valleys, Hills with splitting lo's ring!
10 Jocasta! 10 Pæan sing.
Be this the gen’ral Voice sent up to Heav'n,
And ev'ry publick Place repeat this Echo.
To Pomp and Triumphs give this happy Day:
Let Labour cease ; set out before our Doors
The Images of all your sleeping Fathers,
With Lawrels crown'd: With Lawrel wreathe your Pofts,
And strew with Flow'rs the Pavement. Let the Priests
Do present Sacrifice; pour out the Wine,
And call the Gods to joyn with you in Gladness.Dr. Al for Love.
Let Mirth go on: Let Pleasure know no Pause,
Bur fill up ev'ry_Minute of this Day.
Row, Fair Pen. But oh! the Joy, the mighty Extasie Possess'd thy Soul at this Discovery! Speechless and panting at my Feet you lay, And short-breath'd Sighs told what you cou'd not say: A thousand Times my Hands with Kisses press’d, And look'd such Darts as none could e'er resist : Silent we gaz'd, and as my Eyes met thine, New Joys filld theirs, new Love and Shame fill'd mine. Behn,
My charm'd Ears ne'er knew - A Sound of so much Rapture, fo much Joy:
Not Voices, Instruments, nor warbling Birds,
Not Winds, nor murm'ring Waters joyn'd in Consort,
Not tuneful Nature, nor th'according Spheres
Utter fuch Harmony, as when my Selina
With down-cast Looks and Blushes said, I love. Row. Tamerl.
Oh the dear Hour, in which you did resign!
When round my Neck your willing Arms did twine,
And in a Kiss you faid, your Heart was mine.
Thro' each returning Year may that Hour be
Distinguish'd, in the Rounds of all Eternity.
Gay be the Sun that Hour in all his Light:
Let him collect the Day to be more bright;
Shine all that Hour, and all the rest be Night!
There's not a Slave, a shackled Slave of mine,
But lhould have smil'd that Hour thro'all his care,
And shook his Chains in Transport and rude Harmony. Cong.
Oh my Soul's Joy!
If after ev'ry Tempest come such Calm,
May the Winds blow till they have wakend Death;
And let the lab'ring Bark climb Hills of Seas,
Olympus high, and duck again as low
As Hell's from Heav'n. If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear
My Soul has her Contene so absolute,
That not another Comfort, like to this,
Succeeds in unknown Fate.
Some strange Reverse of Fate must sure attend
This vast Profusion, this Extravagance
Of Heay'n to bless me thus ! 'Tis Gold so pure,