A lab'ring Thought, that rouls within my Breaft. Dryd. Don Seb. He heav'd beneath a preffing Load of Thought, Row. Fair Pen. My Thoughts grow wild,
And let in Fears of ugly Form upon me.
Wild hurrying Thoughts
Start ev'ry Way from my diftracted Soul
To find out Hope, and only meet Despair.
A Beam of Thought came glancing to my Soul. Dryd.Cleom.
THUNDER. See Lightning, Storm.
With Terrour thro' the dark Aerial Hall.
A Peal of rattling Thunder roll'd along,
And fhook the Firmament.
The furious Infant's born, and speaks, and dies.
Muft'ring their Rage, and Heav'n refembles Hell.
A Noife confus'd rofe from the mingled Croud,
Like unform'd Thunder, murm'ring in a Cloud.
It comes like Thunder grumbling in a Cloud,
Before the dreadful Break; if here it falls,
The fubtle 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 fpent its Shafts; it ceafes now to roar,
And bellow thro' the vaft and boundless Deep.
The Skies are hufh'd, no grumbling Thunders roll.Dr.Don Seb. TYGER. See Joufts.
So when a Scythian Tyger gazing round,
A Herd of Kine in fome fair Plain has found,
Lowing fecure, he fwells with angry Pride,
And calls forth all his Spots on ev'ry Side:
Then ftops, and hurls his haughty Eyes at all,
In choice of fome ftrong Neck on which to fall;
Almoft he fcorns fo weak, fo cheap a Prey,
And grieves to fee them trembling hafte away.
Thus as a Tyger, who by Chance has spy'd
In fome Purlieu two gentle Fawns at play,
Strait couches clofe, then rifing, changes oft
His couchant Watch, as one who chofe his Ground,
Whence rufhing, he might fooneft fieze them both,
Grafp'd in each Paw.
Time of it felf is Nothing, but from Thought Receives its Rife, by lab'ring Fancy wrought From things confider'd, while we think on fome As prefent, fome as paft, or yet to come.
No Thought can think on Time,
But thinks on things in Motion or at Reft.
For Nature knows,
No ftedfaft Station, but or ebbs or flows.
Ever in Motion, the deftroys her old,
And cafts new Figures in another Mold.
Even Times are in perpetual Flux, and run
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 ftill fupplies her Store,
The Wave behind impels the Wave before:
Thus in fucceffive Courfe the Minutes run,
And urge their Predeceffor Minutes on.
Still moving, ever new; for former Things
Are fet afide, like abdicated Kings.
And ev'ry Moment alters what is done,
And innovates fome A&t, till then unknown.
Time is th'Effe&t of Motion, born a Twin,
And with the World did equally begin:
Time Eike a Stream, that haftens from the Shore,
Flies to an Ocean where 'tis known no more.
All must be fwallow'd in this endless Deep,
And Motion reft in everlafting Sleep.
The Future but a Length behind the Paft,
Time glides along with undifcover'd Hafte,
Thy Teeth, devouring Time! thine, envious Age! On things below ftill exercife your Rage;
With venom'd Grinders you corrupt your Meat,
And then, at ling'ring Meals, the Morfels eat.
Time haftes away,
Nor is it in our Pow'r to bribe its Stay:
The rolling Years with conftant Motion run:
Lo! while I fpeak the prefent Minute's gone:
And foll' wing Hours urge the fore going on.
'Tis not thy Wealth, 'tis not tay Pow'r,
'Tis not thy Piety can thee fecure.
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.
There Tityus was to fee, who took his Birth
From Heav'n, his Nurfing 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 his Breaft,
The growing Liver ftill fupply'd the Feast:
Still are his Entrails fruitful to their Pains;
Th'immortal Hunger lafts, th'immortal Food remains. Dr. Vir:
TOAD.
So when a Toad, fquat on a Border, fpies
The Gard'ner paffing by, his blood-fhot Eyes
With Spite and Rage inflam'd, dart Fire around
The verdant Walks; and on th'flow'ry Ground
The bloated Vermin loathfom Poifon fpits,
And fwol'n, and bursting with his Malice, fits.
А ТОР.
As young Striplings whip the Top for Sport,
On the fmooth Pavement of an empty Court;
The wooden Engine whirls and flies about,
Admir'd with Clamours of the beardlefs Rout.
They lafh aloud, each other they provoke,
And lend their little Souls at ev'ry Stroke.
The whirling Top they whip,
And drive her giddy till the fall asleep.
TORRENT. See Brook, Flood, Stream.
And dashes o'er the Stones that ftop the Courfe :
As when a Torrent rouls with rapid Force,
The Flood conftrain'd within a fcanty Space,
Roars horrible along the uneafy Race:
White Foam in gath'ring Eddies floats around,
The rocky Shores rebellow to the Sound.
Thus when two neighb'ring Torrents rush from high,
Rapid they run, the foamy Waters fry;
They roul to Sea with unrefifted Force,
And down the Rocks precipitate their Courfe.
The Country rings around with loud Alarms,
And, raw in Fields, the rude Militia fwarms.
Of feeming Arms they make a fhort Effay;
Then haften to be drunk, the Bus'nefs of the Day.
'Twas not the Spawn of fuch as these,.
That dy'd with Punick Blood the conquer'd Seas,
And quafh'd the ftern Eacides:
Made the proud Afian Monarch feel,
How weak his Gold was against Europe's Steel :
Forc'd ev'n dine fiannibal to yield,
won the long-difputed World at Zama's fatal Field.
But Soldiers of a ruftick Mold,
Rough, hardy, feafon'd, manly, bold;
Either they dug the sturdy Ground,
Or thro' hewn Woods their weighty Strokes did found.
And after 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.
TRANSMIGRATION of SOULS.
Now fince the God infpires me to proceed;
Be thou, whate'er infpiring 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 fcale the Height
Of Atlas, who fupports the heav'nly Weight.
To look from upper Light, and thence furvey
Miftaken Mortals wand'ring from the Way,
And wanting Wifdom, fearful for the State
Of future things, and trembling at their Fate.
Thefe I would teach, and by right Reafon 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 Formis, and only changes Seats.
Then Death, fo call'd, is but old Matter drefs'd
In fome 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 Sicknefs difpoffefs'd,
And lodges where it lights, in Man or Beast.
Or hunts without, till ready Limbs it find,
And actuates thofe according to their Kind:
From Tenement to Tenement is toss'd;
The Soul is ftill the fame. the Figure only loft.
And, as the foften'd Wax new Seals receives,
This Face affumes, and that Impreffion leaves;
Now call'd by one, now by another Name,
The Form is only chang'd the Wax is ftill the fame :
So Death, fo call'd, can but the Form deface,
Th'immortal Soul flies out in empty Space,
To feek her Fortune in some other Place.
TREES. See Creation, Funeral, Grove,
Part to the Groves and woody Hills repair,
And with loud Labour fill the echoing Air.
Axes, high rais'd by brawny Arms, defcend
With mighty Sway, and make the Forest bend.
The Mountains murmur, and the nodding Oaks
Groan with their Wounds from thick redoubled Strokes.
The falling Trees defert the neighb'ring Sky,
Where now the Clouds may unmolefted fly.
A fhady Harveft lies difpers'd around,
And loafty Ruin loads th'incumber'd Ground.
They found an antient Wood,
The fhady Covert of the favage Kind.
The founding Ax is ply'd :
Firs, Pines, and Pitch-trees, and the tow'ring Pride
Of Forest Alders, feel the fatal Stroke,
And piercing Wedges cleave the stubborn Oak.
Huge Trunks of Trees, fell'd from the steepy Crown
Of the bare Mountains, roul with Ruin down.
Thus yields the Ceder to the Ax's Edge,
Whofe Arms gave Shelter to the princely Eagle:
Under whofe Shade the ramping Lion flept,
Whofe Top-Branch over-look'd 39ve's spreading Tree, (Hen. 6.
And kept low Shrubs from Winter's powerful Wind.Shak. 1 Part.
As when a Pine is hew'd upon the Plains,
And the laft mortal Stroke alone remains ;
Lab'rings in Pangs of Death, and threat'ning all,
This Way and that fhe nods, confid'ring where to fall.Dryd.Ovid.
The Indian Fig-tree too there fpreads her Arms,
Branching fo broad and long, that in the Ground
The bending Twigs take Root, and Daughters grow
About the Mother. Tree: A pillar'd Shade,
High over-arch'd, and echoing Walks between :
There oft the Indian Herdfman fhunning Heat
Shelters in Cool, and tends his paft'ring Herds
At Loop-holes cut thro' thickeft Shades.
Fair Hand, that can on Virgin Paper write, Yet from the Stain of Ink preferve it White; Whofe Travel o'er that filver Field does fhow, Like Tracts of Leverets in Morning Snow. Love's Image thus in pureft Minds is wrought, Without a Spot or Blemish to the Thought.
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