Let Labour ceafe; fet out before our Doors
The Images of all your fleeping Fathers,
With Lawrels crown'd: With Lawrel wreathe your Pofts,
And ftrew with Flow'rs the Pavement. Let the Priests
Do prefent Sacrifice; pour out the Wine,
And call the Gods to joyn with you in Gladnefs. Dr. All for Love.
Let Mirth go on: Let Pleasure know no Pause,
But fill up ev'ry Minute of this Day.
But oh! the Joy, the mighty Extafie Poffefs'd thy Soul at this Discovery! Speechlefs and panting at my Feet you lay,
And fhort-breath'd Sighs told what you cou'd not say:
A thoufand Times my Hands with Kiffes prefs'd,
And look'd fuch Darts as none could e'er refift:
Silent we gaz'd, and as my Eyes met thine,
New Joys fill'd theirs, new Love and Shame fill'd mine. Behn, My charm'd Ears ne'er knew
A Sound of fo much Rapture, fo much Joy:
Not Voices, Inftruments, nor warbling Birds,
Not Winds, nor murm'ring Waters joyn'd in Confort,
Not tuneful Nature, nor th'according Spheres
Utter fuch Harmony, as when my Selima
With down-caft Looks and Blufhes faid, I love.
Oh the dear Hour, in which you did refign!
When round my Neck your willing Arms did twine,
And in a Kifs 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 reft be Night!
There's not a Slave, a fhackled Slave of mine,
But should have fmil'd that Hour thro' all his Care,
And shook his Chains in Tranfport and rude Harmony.
Oh my Soul's Joy!
If after ev'ry Tempeft come fuch Calm,
May the Winds blow till they have waken'd 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 moft happy; for I fear
My Soul has her Content fo abfolute,
That not another Comfort, like to this,
Succeeds in unknown Fate.
Some ftrange Reverse of Fate muft fure attend
This vaft Profufion, this Extravagance
Of Heav'n to blefs me thus! 'Tis Gold fo pure,
It cannot bear the Stamp without Allay.
Mine is a Gleam of Blifs too hot to laft;
Wat'ry it fhines, and will be foon o'ercaft.
For, as Extreams are fhort of Ill and Good,
And Tides at higheft Mark regorge the Flood:
So Fate, that could no more improve their Joy,
Took a malicious Pleasure to destroy.
Wanton in Fullness, feek to hide themselves
In Drops of Sorrow.
I cannot fpeak; Tears fo obftru& my Words, And choak me with unutterable Joy.
Then into Tears of Joy the Father broke;
Each in his longing Arms by turns he took,
Panted and paus'd, and thus again he spoke.
My Joy ftops at my Tongue;
But it has found Two Channels here for One,
And bubbles out above.
Her moony Horns were on her Forehead plac'd,
And yellow Sheaves her fhining Temples grac'd:
A Mitre, for a Crown, fhe wore on high;
The Dog, and dappled Bull were waiting by.
Ofyris, fought along the Banks of Nile,
The filent God, the facred Crocodile :
And last a long Proceffion moving on
With Timbrels, that affift the lab'ring Moon.
The fortunate ISLANDS.
The happy Ifles where endless Pleasures wait;
Are ftil'd by tuneful Bards, The Fortunate.
Eternal Spring with fmiling Verdure here
Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful Year.
From chrystal Rocks tranfparent Riv'lets flow " ;
The Rofe ftill blufhes, and the Vi'lets blow.
The Vine undrefs'd her fwelling Clufters bears;
The lab'ring Hind the mellow Olives chears:
Bloffoms and Fruit at once the Citron fhows,
And as the pays, difcovers ftill fhe owes ;
And the glad Orange courts the am'rous Maid
With golden Apples, and a filken Shade.
No Blafts e'er difcompofe the peaceful Sky,
The Springs but murmur, and the Winds but figh.
The tuneful Swans on gliding Rivers float,
And warbling Dirges dye on ev'ry Note.
Where Flora treads, her Zephyr Garlands flings,
Shaking rich Qdours from his purple Wings;
And Birds from Woodbine Bow'rs, and Jefs'min Groves
Chaunt their glad Nuptials, and unenvy'd Loves.
Mild Seafons, rifing Hills, and filent Ďales,
Cool Grottos, filver Brooks, and flow'ry Vales,
In this bleft Climate all the circling Year prevail.
Great Queen of gath'ring Clouds,
Whofe Moisture fills the Floods:
Great Queen of nuptial Rites,
Whofe Pow'r the Soul unites,
And fills the Genial Bed with chafte Delights.Dryd.Alb.& Alban.
The nuptial Knot, and makes the Marriage Joys.
Dryd. Virg. The Majefty of Heav'n! The Sister-Wife of Jove. Dryd. Virg. JUPITER.
The Pow'r, whofe high Command
Is unconfin'd; who rules the Seas and Land;
And tempers Thunder in his aweful Hand.
Who fhakes Heav'n's Axle with his aweful Nod.
The radiant Stars, and Heav'n and Earth controuls.
The Pow'r immenfe! Eternal Energy!
The King of Gods and Men; whofe awful Hand
Difperfes Thunder on the Seas and Land,
Difpofing all with abfolute Command.
The mighty Thund'rer, with majestick Awe,
Then fhook his Shield, and dealt his Bolts around,
And scatter'd Tempefts on the teeming Ground.
So when of old Jove from the Titans fled,
Ammon's rude Front his radiant Face bely'd,
And all the Majefty of Heav'n lay hid;
At length by Fate to Pow'r divine restor❜d,
His Thunder taught the World to know its Lord:
The God grew terrible again,and was again ador'd.Row.Tamerl,
So Jove look'd down upon the War of Atoms,
And rude tumultuous Chaos, when as yet
Fair Nature, Form, and Order had not Being,
But Difcord and Confufion troubled all.
Calm and ferene upon his Throne he fate,
Fix'd there by the eternal Law of Fate:
Safe in himself, because he knew his Pow'r,
And knowing what he was, he knew he was fecure. Row. Ulyf
JUSTICE. See King.
Of all the Virtues, Juftice is the best;
Valour, without it, is a common Pest :
Pirates and Thieves, too oft with Courage grac'd, -
Shew us how ill that Virtue may be plac'd :
'Tis our Complexion makes us chafte or brave;
Juftice from Reason, and from Heav'n we have:
All other Virtues dwell but in the Blood;
That in the Soul, and gives the Name of Good:
Juftice the Queen of Virtues!
Juftice, tho' fhe's painted blind,
Is to the weaker Side inclin'd,
Like Charity; elfe Right and Wrong
Could never hold it out fo long.
Juftice gives Sentence many times
On one Man for another's Crimes.
As lately't happen'd in a Town,
Where liv'd a Cobler, and but one;
That out of Doctrine could cut Ufe,
And mend Mens Lives, as well as Shooes:
This precious Brother having flain,
In Times of Peace an Indian,
The mighty Tottipottimoy
Sent to our Elders an Envoy ;
Complaining forely of the Breach
Of League, held forth by Brother Patch,
Against the Articles in Force
Between both Churches, his and ours.
For which he crav'd the Saints to render
Into his Hands, or hang th'Offender.
But they, maturely having weigh'd,
They had no more but him o'th' Trade
(A Man that ferv'd 'em in a double
Capacity, to teach and cobble,)
Refolv'd to fpare him; yet to do
The Indian Hogan Mogan too
Impartial Juftice, in his ftead did
Hang an old Weaver that was bedrid.
So Juftice, while fhe winks at Crimes,
Stumbles on Innocence fometimes.
It gilds the Lover's fervile Chain,
And makes the Slave grow pleas'd and vain.
Kindness can Indiff'rence warm,
And blow that Calm into a Storm.
KING. See Emperour, Tyrant, Ufurper.
Golden in Shew, is but a Crown of Thorns;
Brings Dangers, Troubles, Cares, and fleepless Nights,
To him who wears the Regal Diadem;
When on his Shoulders each Man's Burthen lies:
For therein lies the Office of a King,
His Honour, Virtue, Merit, and chief Praife,
That for the Publick all this Weight he bears.
Kings, like Heav'ns Eye, fhould spread their Beams around, Pleas'd to be feen, while Glory's Race they run : Reft is not for the Chariot of the Sun.
Luxurious Kings are to their People loft;
They live, like Drones, upon the publick Coft.
Kings, who are Fathers, live but in their People.Dryd.Don Seb.
Some Kings the Name of Conquerours affum'd;
Some to be Great, fome to be Gods prefum'd:
But boundless Pow'r, and arbitrary Luft,
Made Tyrants ftill abhor the Name of Juft:
They fhun'd the Praife this God-like Virtue gives,
And fear'd a Title that reproach'd their Lives.
Princes by Difobedience get Command,
And by new-quell'd Rebellions firmer ftand:
Till by the boundless Offers of Succefs,
They meet their Fate in ill-us'd Happiness.
O polish'd Perturbation! Golden Care!
That keeps the Ports of Slumber open wide
To many a watchful Night! O Majesty !
When thou doft pinch thy Bearer, thou doft fit
Like a rich Armour, worn in Heat of Day,
That fcalds with Safety.
A Crown, whate'er we give, is worth the Coft.
How wretchedly he rules,
That's ferv'd by Cowards, and advis'd by Fools! Orw. Don Carl,
What's Royalty, but Pow'r to please my self?
And if I dare not, then am I the Slave,
And my own Slaves the Soveraigns.
Weak Princes flatter when they want the Pow'r
To curb their People: Tender Plants must bend;
But when a Government is grown to Strength,
Like fome old Oak, tough with its armed Bark,
It yields not to the Tug, but only nods,
And turns to fullen State.
Kings Titles commonly begins by Force,
Which Time wears off, and mellows into Right;
And Pow'r, which in one Age is Tyranny,
Is ripen'd in the next to true Succeffion.
All After-Acts are fanctify'd by Pow'r.
Unbounded Pow'r, and Height of Greatness,
To Kings that Luftre which we think divine;
Dryd. Span. Fry.
Dryd. Don Seb.
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