MISER. See Content.
Like a Mifer 'midst his Store,
Who grafps and grafps till he can hold no more;
And when his Strength is wanting to his Mind,
Looks back and fighs on what he left behind. Dryd. Tyr. Love.
At Midnight thus th'Ufurer steals untrack'd,
To make a Vifit to his hoarded Gold,
And feaft his Eyes upon the fhining Mammon.
Slaves, who ne'er knew Mercy;
Sour, unrelenting, Money-loving Villains,
Who laugh at human Nature and Forgiveness,
And are, like Fiends, the Factors for Deftruction. Row. Fair Pen. MISTRESS.
Beware the dang'rous Beauty of the Wanton,
Shun their Enticements: Ruin, like a Vultur,
Waits on their Conquefts: Falfhood too's their Bus'nefs;
They put falfe Beauty off to all the World,
Ufe falfe Endearments to the Fools that love them;
And when they marry, to their filly Husbands
They bring falfe Virtue, broken Fame and Fortune. Otw. Orph.
You bear the fpecious Title of a Wife
To guild your Caufe, and draw the pitying World
To favourit: The World contemns poor me;
For I have loft my Honour, loft my Fame,
And ftain'd the Glory of my royal Houfe;
And all to bear the branded Name of Mistress.
[Spoken by Cleopatra.] Dryd. All for Love.
For now the World is grown fo wary,
That few of either Sex dare marry;
But rather truft on Tick t'Amours,
The Crofs and Pile for better or worse:
A Mode that is held honourable,
As well as French and fashionable.
MISTS. See Clouds, Fog.
Ye Mifts and Exhalations that now rife
From Hill or fteaming Lake, dusky, and grey,
Till the Sun paint your fleecy Skirts with Gold;
Either to deck with Clouds th'uncolour'd Sky,
Or wet the thirfty Earth with falling Show'rs.
MONEY. See Gold.
Money being the common Scale
Of things by Meafure, Weight, and Tale;
In all th Affairs of Church and State,
Is both the Ballance and the Weight.
For Money is the only Pow'r
That all Mankind falls down before,
Men venture Necks to gain a Fortune:
The Soldier does it ev'ry Day,
(Eight to the Week) for Sixpence Pay:
Your Pettifoggers damn their Souls
To fhare with Knaves in cheating Fools;
And Merchants vent'ring thro' the Main,
Slight Pyrates, Rocks, and Horns, for Gain.
This Money has a Pow'r above
The Stars and Fates to manage Love;
Whofe Arrows, learned Poets hold,
That never fail, are tipp'd with Gold.
And tho' Love's all the World's Pretence,
Money's the mythologick Senfe;
The real Subftance of the Shadow,
Which all Addrefs and Courtship's made to.
For Money 'tis, that is the great
Provocative to am'rous Heat;
'Tis Beauty always in the Flow'r,
That buds and bloffoms at Fourscore
'Tis Virtue, Wit, and Worth, and all
That Men divine and facred call:
For what's the Worth of any thing,
But fo much Money as 'twill bring?
Hence 'tis no Lover has the Pow'r
T'enforce a defperate Amour,
Like him that has two String to's Bow,
And burns for Love and Money too :
For then he's brave and refolute,
Difdains to render in his Suit;
Has all his Flames and Raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the Trouble.
And to be plain, 'tis not your Perfon
My Stomach's fet fo fharp and fierce on;
But 'tis your better Part, your Riches,
That my enamour'd Heart bewitches.
For Money, like the Swords of Kings,
Is the last Reafon of all things.,
MOON. See Blufh, Creation, Hell.
He fmooth'd the rough-caft Moon's imperfect Mold,
And comb'd her beamy Locks with facred Gold:
Be thou, faid he, Queen of the mournful Night,
And, as he spoke, the rofe clad o'er in Light,
With thousand Stars attending on her Train;
With her they rife, with her they fet again.
The Moon
Rifing in clouded Majefty, at length
Unveil'd her peerless Light,
She o'er the Dark her filver Mantle threw,
And in her pale Dominion check'd the Night.
Nor equal Light th'unequal Moon adorns,
Or in her wexing, or her waning Horns:
For ev'ry Day she wanes her Face is lefs,
But gath ring into Globe, fhe fattens at Increase.
The Queen of Night, whofe vast Command
Rules all the Sea and half the Land;
And over moift and crazy Brains,
In high Spring-Tides at Midnight reigns.
MORNING. See Blufh.
'Twas ebbing Darkness, paft the Noon of Night,
And Phosphor on the Confines of the Light,
Promis'd the Sun, e'er Day began to fpring:
The tuneful Lark began to ftretch her Wing,
And flick'ring on her Neft, made fhort Effays to fing.
Now Morn her rofy Steps in th'orient Clime
Advancing, fow'd the Earth with eastern Pearl.
The rofy-finger'd Morn appears,
And from her Mantle fhakes her Tears:
The Sun arifing, Mortals chears,
And drives the rifing Mifts away,
In promise of a glorious Day.
Dim Night her fhadowy Cloud withdraws; the Morn,
Wak'd by the circling Hours, with rofy Hand
Unbarr'd the Gates of Light.
Now the fair Morn fmiles with a purple Ray,
Clearing before the Sun the eastern Way;
Whofe radiant Train pours from the Gates of Light,
And the new Day does to new Toils invite.
And now went forth the Morn array'd in Gold,
And from before her vanish'd gloomy Night,
Shot through with orient Beams.
Aurora had but newly chac'd the Night,
And purpled o'er the Sky with blufhing Light. Dryd. Pal. & Arc.
'Twas juft the Time when the new Ebb of Night
Did the moist World unveil to human Sight.
And now a Glance from mild Aurora's Eyes
Shoots through the chryftal Kingdoms of the Skies;
The favage Kind in Forefts cease to roam,
And Sots, o'er-charg'd with nauseous Loads, reel home:
Light's chearful Smiles o'er th'azure Waste are spread,
And Mifs from Inns o' Court bolts out unpaid.
Mean while to re-falute the World with facred Light
Leucot hoe wak'd, and with fresh Dews embalm'd
The Earth. And now the fmiling Morn begins
Her rofy Progrefs.
The morning Lark, the Meffenger of Day,
Saluted in her Song the Morning grey;,
And foon the Sun arose with Beams fo bright,
That all th'Horizon laugh'd to fee the joyous Sight.
He with his tepid Rays the Rofe renews,
And licks the dropping Leaves, and dries the Dews.
Now rose the ruddy Morn from Tithon's Bed,
And with the Dawn of Day the Skies o'erfpread.
Nor long the Sun his daily Course with-held,
But added Colours to the World reveal'd.
At length gay Morn fmiles in the eastern Sky;
From robbing filent Graves the Sextons fly:
The rifing Mifts skud o'er the dewy Lawns,
The Chanter at his early Mattins yawns:
The Vi'lets ope their Buds, Cowilips their Bells,
And Progne her Complaint of Tereus tells.
The Sun had long fince in the Lap
Of Thetis taken out his Nap;
And, like a Lobfter boil'd, the Morn
From black to red began to turn.
Aurora on Etefian Breezes borne,
With blufhing Lips breathes out the fprightly Morn.
Each Flow'r in Dew their fhort-liv'd Empire weeps,
And Cynthia with her lov'd Endymion fleeps.
Now had Aurora on the Face of Night
Pour'd from her golden Urn fresh Streams of Light,
That fin'd and clear'd the Air; while down to Hell
The fhady Dregs precipitated fell.
And now the rifing Morn with rofy Light
Adorns the Skies, and puts the Stars to flight.
The Morn enfuing from the Mountain's Height,
Had fcarcely spread the Skies with rofy Light;
Th'etherial Courfers, bounding from the Sea,
From out their flaming Noftrils breath'd the Day.
Behold, the Morn, in ruffet Mantle clad,
Walks o'er the Dew of yon high eastern Hill. Shak. Rom. & Jul. Behold what Streaks
Of Light embroider all the cloudy Eaft.
Night's Tapers are burnt out, and jocund Day
Upon the Mountain-tops fits gaily drefs'd,
While all the Birds bring Mufick to his Levy Shak. Rom, & Jul.
From Amber Shrouds I fee, the Morning rife,
Her rofy Hand begins to paint the Skies:
And now the City Emmets leave their Hive,
And roufing Hinds to chearful Labour drive.
High Cliffs and Rocks are pleafing Objects now,
And Nature fmiles upon the Mountain's Brow;
The joyful Birds falute the Sun's Approach,
The Sun too laughs, and mounts his gaudy Coach;
While from his Car the dropping Gems diftil;
And all the Earth and all the Heav'ns do fmile.
It is methinks a Morning full of Fate :
It rifes flowly, as her fullen Care
Had all the Weights of Sleep and Death hung on it.
She is notrofy-finger'd, but fwoll'n black;
Her Face is like a Water turn'd to Blood;
And her fick Head is bound about with Clouds,
As if the threaten'd Night e'er Noon of Day.
The Morning rifes black, the low'ring Sun
Drives heavily his fable Chariot on :
The Face of Day now blushes scarlet-deep.
With'd Morning's come; and now upon the Plains
And diftant Mountains, where they feed their Flocks,
The happy Shephards leave their homely Huts,
And with their Pipes proclaim the new-born Day.
The lufty Swain comes with his well-fill'd Scrip
Of healthful Viands, which, when Hunger calls,
With much Content and Appetite he eats;
To follow in the Field his daily Toil,
And drefs the grateful Glebe that yields him Fruits.
The Beafts that under the warm Hedges flept,
And weather'd out the cold bleak Night, are up;
And looking tow'rds the neighb'ring Paftures, raife
Their Voice, and bid their Fellow-brutes Good-morrow:
The cheerful Birds too on the Tops of Trees
Affemble all in Choirs, and with their Notes
Salute, and welcome up the rifing Sun.
Parent of Day! whofe beauteous Beams of Light
Spring from the darkfom Womb of Night,
And 'midft their native Horrors fhow
Like Gems adorning of the Negro's Brow.
Not Heav'ns fair Bow can equal thee,
In all its gaudy Drapery:
Thou first Effay of Light, and Pledge of Day,
Rival of Shade! Eternal Spring of Light!
From thy bright unexhaufted Womb,
The beauteous Race of Days and Seafons come.
Thy Beauty Ages cannot wrong,
But 'fpite of Time thou'rt ever young. Thou art alone Heav'n's modeft Virgin-Light,
Whole Face a Veil of Bluthes hides from humane Sight.
At thy Approach Nature ere&ts her Head;
The fmiling Univerfe is glad;
The drowly Earth and Seas awake,
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