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For no Thought is contented. The better fort,
As Thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
Wich Scruples, and do set the Faith it self
Against the Faith.
Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot
Unlikely Wonders ; how these vain weak Nails
May tear a Passage thro’ the flinty Ribs
Of this hard World, my ragged Prison Walls;
And, for they cannot, die in their own Pride.
Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselves
That they are not the first of Fortune's Slaveș,
And shall not be the last: Like silly Beggars,
Who sitting in the Stocks, refuge their Shame
That many have, and others must be there ;
And in this Thought they find a kind of Ease,
Bearing their own Misfortunes on the Back
Of such as have before endur'd the like,
Thus play I in one Prison many people,
And none contented. Sometimes am I King,
Then Treason makes me wish my self a Beggar,
And so I am: Then crushing Penury
Perswades me I was better when a King ;
Then I am King'd again ; and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bullingbrook,
And streight am nothing. But whate'er I am,
Nor I, nor any Man, but that Man is,
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd
By being. nothing

[ poken by Rich. 2.]

Thus my Thoughts are tir'd
With tedious Journeys up and down my Mind :
Sometimes they lose their way ; sometimes as flow
As Beasts o'er-loaded heavily they move,
Press'd by the Weight of Sorrow and of Love. How. Vest. Virg.

Allow my melancholy Thoughts this Privilege,
To let them brood in secret o'er their Sorrows. Row. Fair Pen.

Some melancholy Thought that shuns the Light,
Lurks underneath that Sadness in thy Visage. Row. Fair Pine

Turn not to Thought, my Brain, but let me find
Some unfrequented Shade, there lay me down,
And let forgetful Dulness steal upon me,
To foften and affwage this Pain of thinking. Row. Fair Pen.

Thought is Damnation; 'tis the Plague of Devils
To think on what they are.

Row, Amb. Step.
Her thoughtful Soul labours with some Event
Of high Import, which justles like an Embryo
In its dark Womb, and longs to be difclos'd.

Row. Amb. Step.

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Time will perfe&t A Jab'ring Thought, that rouls within my Breaft. Dryd.Dons He heav'd beneath a pressing Load of Thought, Row, Fairpa

My Thoughts grow wild, And let in Fears of ugly Form upon me.

Otw. Orp.
Wild hurrying Thoughts
Start ev'ry Way from my distracted Soul
To find out Hope, and only meer Despair. South. Fatal Mar.
A Beam of Thought came glancing to my Soul. Dryd.Clcem,

THUNDER. See Lightning, Storm."
With Terrour thro' che dark Aerial Hall.

A Peal of rattling Thunder roll’d along,
And shook the Firmament.

Dryd. The furious Infant's born, and speaks, and dies. Cre. Lucr.

Deep Thunders roar, Muftring their Rage, and Heav'n resembles Hell. Mila

A Noise confus'd rose from the mingled Croud, Like unform'd Thunder, murm’ring in a Cloud. Blac.

It comes like Thunder grumbling in a Cloud,
Before the dreadful Break; if here it falls,
The subtle Flame will lick up all my Blood,
And in a Moment turn my Heart to Ashes. Dryd. Trail, Cref.

The Thunder now
Wing'd with red Lightning, and impetuous Rage,
Has spent its Shafts; it ceases now to roar,
And bellow chro' the vast and boundless Deep.

Milt, The Skies are hufhd, no grumbling Thunders roll.Dr. Dondeb.

TYGER. See Jousts.
So when a Scythian Tyger gazing round,
A Herd of Kine in some fair Plain has found,
Lowing secure, he swells with angry Pride,
And calls forth all his Spots on ev'ry Side :
Then stops, and hurls his haughty Eyes at all,
In choice of some strong Neck on which to fall;
Almoft he scorns so weak, fo cheap a Prey,
And grieves to see them trembling haste away.

Thus as a Tyger, who by Chance has spy'd
In fonie Purlieu two gentle Fawns at play,
Strait couches close, then rising, changes oft
His couchant Warch, as one who chose his Ground,
Whence rushing, he might soonest fieze them both,
Grasp'd in each Paw.

Milt. TIME. Time of it felf is Nothing, but from Thought Receives its Rife, by lab'ring Fancy wrought From things conlider'd, while we think on some As present, some as part, or yet to come.


No Thought can think on Time,
But thinks on things in Motion or at Reft.

Cre. Luc.
For Nature knows,
- No stedfast Station, but or ebbs or flows.
Ever in Motion, the destroys her old,
And casts new Figures in another Mold.
Even Times are in perpetual Flux, and

Like Rivers from their Fountains rolling on :
For Time, no more than Streams, is at a Stay,
The flying Hour is ever on her Way :
And as the Fountain still supplies her Store,
The Wave behind impels the Wave before :
Thus in successive Course the Minutes run,
And urge their Predecessor Minutes on.
Still moving, ever new; for former Things
Are set aside, like abdicated Kings.
And ev'ry Moment alters what is done,
And innovates fome Act, till then unknown. Dryd. Ovid.

Time is th’Effect of Motion, born a Twin,
And with the World did equally begin :
Time kke a Stream, that hastens from the Shore,
Flies to an Ocean where 'tis known no more.
All must be swallow'd in this endless Deep,
And Motion rest in everlasting Sleep.

Dryd. Ovid.
Time glides along with undiscover'd Hafte,
The Future but a Length behind the Past,
So swift are Years.

Dryd. Ovid.
Thy Teeth, devouring Time! thine, envious Age!
On things below ftill exercise your Rage;
With venom'd Grinders you corrupt your Meat,
And then, at ling’ring Meals, the Morsels eat. Dryd. Ovid.

Time bastes away,
Nor is it in our Pow'r to bribe its Stay:
The rolling Years with constant Motion run:
Lo! while I speak the present Minute's gone :
And foll’wing Hours urge the fore going on.

'Tis not thy Wealth, 'tis not try Pow'r, 'Tis not thy Piery can thee secure.

They're all too feeble to withstand
Gray Hairs, approaching Age, and thy avoidless End. old. Hor.

: To things immortal Time can do no Wrong,
And that which never is to dye, for ever must be young. Cowl.

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There Tityus was to fee, who took his Birth
From Heav'n, his Nursing from the foodful Earth;


Here his gigantick Limbs with large Embrace,
Infold nine Acres of infernal Space.
A rav'nous Vulture in his open'd Side
Her crooked Beak and cruel Talons try'd,
Still for the growing Liver dig'd bis Breast,
The growing Liver still supply'd the Feast :
Still are his Entrails fruitful to their Pains;
Th'immortal Hunger lafts, th’immortal Food remains. Dr. Vir.

So when a Toad, squat on a Border, spies
The Gard'ner palling by, his blood-shot Eyes
With Spite and Rage inflam'd, dart Fire around
The verdant Walks ; and on th'flow'ry Ground
The bloated Vermin loathsom Poison spits,
And swol'n, and bursting with his Malice, fits.

As young Striplings whip the Top for Sport,
On the smooch Pavement of an empty Court ;
The wooden Engine whirls and flies about,
Admir'd with Clamours of the beardless Rout.
They lash aloud, each other they provoke,
And lend their little Souls at ev'ry Stroke.

Dryd. Virg. The whirling Top they whip, And drive her giddy till she fall asleep.

Dryd. Perfi TORRENT. See Brook, Flood, Stream. As when a Torrent rouls with rapid Force, And dashes o'er the Stones that stop the Course : The Flood constrain'd within a scanty Space, Roars horrible along the uneasy Race : White Foam in gath'ring Eddies floats around, The rocky Shores rebellow to the Sound.

Dryd. Virg.
Thus when two neighb'ring Torrents rulh from high,
Rapid they run, the foamy Waters fry;
They roul to Sea with unresisted Force,
And down the Rocks precipitate their Course. Dryd. Virg.

The Country rings around with loud Alarms,
And, raw in Fields, the rude Militia swarms.
Of seeming Arms they make a short Essay ;

(10. Then hatten to be drunk, the Bus'ness of the Day. Dryd. Cyn.

'Twas not the Spawn of such as these, That dy'd with Punick. Blood the conquer'd Seas,

And qual’d the stern Eacides:
Made thie, out ,ian Monarch feel,
How weat bis Gold was against Europe's Steel :

Forc'd ev's die linnnitat to yield,
won the lo g-diluted World at Zama's fatal Field.



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But Soldiers of a rustick Mold,
Rough, hardy, season'd, manly, bold;

Either they dug the sturdy Ground,
Or thro' hewn Woods their weighty Strokes did found.

And afrer the declining Sun
Had chang'd the Shadows, and their Task was done :
Home with their weary Team they took their Way,
And drown'd in friendly Bowls the Labour of the Day.

Now since the God inspires me to proceed;
Be thou, whate'er inspiring Pow'r, obey'd:
For I will fing of mighty Mysteries,
Of Truths conceal'd before from human Eyes ;
Dark Oracles unveil, and open all the Skies.
Pleas'd as I am to walk along the Sphere
Of shining Stars, and travel with the Year :
To leave the heavy Earth, and scale the Height
Of Atlas, who supports the heav'nly Weight.
To look from upper Light, and thence survey
Miftaken Mortals wand'ring from the Way,
And wanting Wisdom, fearful for the State
Of future things, and trembling at their Fate.
There I would teach, and by right Reason bring
To think of Death, as but an idle thing.
Why thus affrighted at an empty Name,
A Dream of Darkness, and fictitious Flame?
Vain Themes of Wit, which but in Poems pass,
And Fables of a World, that never was.
What feels the Body when the Soul expires,
By Time corrupted, or confum'd by Fires ?
Nor dies the Spirit, but new Life repeats
In other Fornis, and only changes Seats.
Then Death, so call'd, is but oid Matter dress'd
In some new Figure, and a vary'd Veft.
Thus all things are but alter'd, nothing dies,
And here and there th'unbody'd Spirit flies:
By Time, or Force, or Sickness dispossess'd,
And lodges where it lights, in Man or Beast.
Or hunts without, till ready Limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their Kind:
From Tenement to Tenement is toss'd ;
The Soul is still the same. the Figure only lost.
And, as the sofren'd Wax new Seals receives,
This Face affumes, and that Impression leaves ;
Now call’d by one, now by another Name,
The Form is only chang'd the Wax is still the fame:


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