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By which Mankind is by Degrees undone,
Were quickly routed out and gone.
Phyficians now could nought prevail,
No Aid of Herbs, or Juices Pow'r ;
None of Apollo's Art could cure:

But help'd the Plague the fpeedier to devour.
Some caft into the Pit the Urn,

And drank it dry at its Return:

Again they drew, again they drank;
They drank, and found they flam'd the more,
And only added to the burning Store.
So ftrong the Heat, fo ftrong the Torments were,
They like fome Burthen bear

The lightest Covering of Air:

The Virgins blufh not, yet uncloth'd appear;
The Pain and the Disease did now,
Unwillingly reduce Men to

That Nakedness once more,

Which perfect Health, and Innocence caus'd before.
Their fiery Eyes, like Stars, wak'd all the Night,
No Sleep, no Peace, no Reft,
Their wandring and affrighted Minds poffefs'd.
Upon their Souls, and Eyes,

Hell, and eternal Horrour lies.
Sometimes they curfe, fometimes they pray,
Sometimes they Cruelties and Fury breath,
Not Sleep, but Waking now was Sifter unto Death,
Scatter'd in Fields the Bodies lay.

The Earth call'd to the Fowls to take the Flesh away.
In vain the call'd; they came not nigh,
Nor would their Food with their own Ruin buy:
Whom Tyrant Hunger prefs'd,

And forc'd to tafte; he prov'd a wretched Gueft;
The Price was Life: It was a coftly Feaft

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Here lies a Mother and her Child,
The Infant fuck'd as yet, and fmil'd.
But ftraight by its own Food was kill'd.
There Parents hugg'd their Children laft,
Here parting Lovers laft embrac'd;

But yet not parting neither,

They both expir'd and went away together.
Here Pris'ners in the Dungeon die,

And gain a twofold Liberty:
Here others, poifon'd by the Scent,
Which from corrupted Bodies went,

Thefe Three Lines are in Creech's Lucretius.

}

Quickly

Quickly return the Death they did receive,
And Death to others give.

And ev'n after Death they all are Murth'rers here.
Up ftarts the Soldier from his Bed,
He, tho' Death's Servant, is not freed.
The Learned too as fast as others die,
They from Corruption are not free,
Are mortal, tho' they give an Immortality.
They turn'd their Authors o'er to try,
What Help, what Cure, what Remedy,
All Nature's Stores against this Plague fupply.
And tho' befides they fhunn'd it every where,

They fearch'd it in their Books,, and fain would meet it there.
There was no Number now of Death,
The Sifters fcarce ftood ftill to breathe,

But weary'd quite with cutting fingle Threads,
Began at once to part whole Looms;

One Stroke did give whole Houfes Dooms:

But what, Great Gods! was worst of all,

Hell forth its Magazine of Luft did call,

Into the upper World it went;
Such Guilt, fuch Wickedness,

Such Irreligion did increase,

That the few Good that did furvive,

Were angry with the Plague for fuff'ring them to live,
More for the Living than the Dead did grieve.
Some robb'd the very Dead,
Tho' fure to be infected e'er they fled.

Some nor the Shrines nor Temples fpar'd,
Nor Gods, nor Heavens fear'd,

Tho' fuch Examples of their Pow'r appear'd.
Virtue was esteem'd an empty Name,

And Honefty the foolish Voice of Fame.

For having pafs'd thofe tort'ring Flames before,

They thought the Punishment already o'er,

༼ཨ་བི འབས༽

Here having felt one Hell, they thought there was no more. [Bishop of Rochefter's Plague of Athens. PLANET.

Like fome malignant Planet,

Foe to the Harveft, and the healthy Year,
That fcouls adverfe, and lours upon the World,
When all the other Stars with gentle Afpe&
Propitious fhine, and meaning Good to Man.
Planet of Saturn.

Wide is my Courfe, nor turn I to my Place,
Till Length of Time, and move with tardy Pace.

Row. Fair Pen.

Man

Man feels me when I prefs th'ethereal Plains,
My Hand is heavy, and the Wound remains,
Mine is the Shipwreck in a wat❜ry Sign,
And in an earthy, the dark Dungeon mine.
Cold fhiv'ring Agues, melancholy Care,
And bitter blafting Winds, and poifon'd Air,
And willful Death refulting from Despair..
The throttling Quinfey 'tis my Star appoints,
And Rheumatifms I fend to rack the Joynts.
When Churls rebel against their native Prince,
I arm their Hands, and furnish the Pretence :
And housing in the Lion's hateful Sign,
Bought Senates, and deferting Troops are mine.
Mine is the privy Pois'ning: I command
Unkindly Seasons, and ungrateful Land.
By me King's Palaces are pufh'd to Ground,
And Miners crufh'd beneath their Mines are found.
'Twas I flew Sampfon, when the pillar'd Hall
Fell down, and crufh'd the Many with the Fall.
My Looking is the Sire of Peftilence,

}

That fweeps at once the People and the Prince. Dryd.Pal.& Are:
PLAYER.

I can counterfeit the deep Tragedian,
Speak, and look back, and pry on ev'ry Side,
Tremble and ftart at wagging of a Straw,
Intending deep Sufpicion. Ghaftly Looks
Are at my Service, like enforced Smiles;
And both are ready in their Offices,
At any Time to grace my Stratagems.

Shak. Rich. 3.

Is it not monftrous that this Player here,
But in a Fiction, in a Dream of Paffion,
Could force his Soul fo to his whole Conceit,
That from her Working all his Vifage warm'd;
Tears in his Eyes, Diftraction in his Afpect,
A broken Voice, and his whole Function fuiting
With Forms to his Conceit? And all for Nothing!
For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he fhould weep for her? What would he do
Had he the Motive, and the Cue for Paffion
That I have? He would drown the Stage with Tears,
And cleave the general Ear with horrid Speech:
Make mad the Guilty, and apale the Free,

Confound the Ignorant, and amaze indeed

The very Faculty of Eyes and Ears.

Like a Player,

Bellowing his Paffion till he break the Spring,

Shak. Haml.

And his rack'd Voice jar to the Audience. Shak. Troil.& Cress.

The

The purple Emp'rors, who in Buskins tread,
And rule imaginary Worlds for Bread.
PLEASURE.

Pleafure never comes fincere to Man,
But lent by Heav'n upon hard Ufury:
And while Jove holds us out the Bowl of Joy,
E'er it can reach our Lips, 'tis dafh'd with Gall
By fome Left-handed God.

The Gods will frown where-ever they do fmile;
The Crocodile infefts the fertile Nile.

Lions and Tigers on the Lybian Plain,
Forbid all Pleasures to the fearful Swain.

Gar.

Dryd. Oedip

Wild Beafts in Forefts do the Hunters fright,
They fear their Ruin midft of their Delight.
Delights, thofe beautiful Illusions play
Around us, and when grafp'd they glide away:
They fhew themselves, but will not with us dwell,
But like hot Gleams, approaching Storms foretell.
Pure unmix'd Pleasures on us never flow'd,
But ftream, like watry Sun-beams, thro' a Cloud.
And frequent Ufe does the Delight exclude:
Pleafure's a Toil when conftantly purfu'd.
One Grain of Bad imbitters all the Beft.

POETASTER.

He Rhimes appropriate could make,
To ev'ry Month in th'Almanack:

When Terms begin and end, could tell,
With their Returns, in Doggerel.
When the Exchequer opes and fhuts,
And Sowgelder with Safety cuts.
When Men may eat and drink their Fill,
And when be temp'rate, if they will.
When ufe, and when abftain from Vice,
Figs, Grapes, Phlebotomy, and Spice.
In Lyricks he would write an Ode on
His Mistress eating a Black-pudden.
And when imprifon'd Air efcap'd her.
It puff'd him with poetick Rapture.
His Sonnets charm'd th'attentive Croud,
By wide-mouth'd Mortal troll'd aloud,
That, circled with his long-ear'd Guests;
Like Orpheus look'd among the Beasts.
A Carman's Horfe could not pass by,
But flood ty'd up to Poetry.

Each Window like a Pill'ry 'ppears,
With Heads thrust thro', nail'd by the Ears:

Dorf.

Blac

Cong. Juv. Dryd. Hem.

All

All Trades run in as to the Sight
Of Monsters, or their dear Delight
The Gallow-Tree, when cutting Purfe
Breeds Bus'nefs for Heroick Verse.

Which none does hear, but would have hung,
T'have been the Theme of such a Song.

Hud..

POETRY and POETS. See Mufick, River, Stile, Verfe.
Sometimes of humble rural things,

Thy Mufe in middle Air with vary'd Numbers fings;
And fometimes her fonorous Flight
To Heav'n fublimely wings.
But firft takes Time with Majesty to rife,
Then without Pride divinely great,
She mounts her native Skies,
And Goddess-like retains her State,
When down again fhe flies.
Commands, which Judgment gives, fhe ftill obeys,
Both to deprefs her Flight, and raise.
Thus Mercury from Heav'n defcends,
But ftill defcending, Dignity maintains ;
As much a God upon our humble Plains,
As when he tow'ring re-afcends to Heav'n.

But when thy Goddess takes her Flight,
With fuch a Majefty, to fuch a Height,

As can alone fuffice to prove

That the defcends from mighty Jove;
Gods! how thy Thoughts then rife, and foar, and fhine!
Immortal Spirit animates each Line:

Each with bright Flame that fires our Souls is crown'd,
Each has Magnificence of Sound,

And Harmony divine.

Thus the firft Orbs in their high Rounds,,
With fhining Pomp advance,

And to their own celeftial Sounds
Majeftically dance.

Or with eternal Symphony they roll,

Each turn'd in its harmonious Course, And each inform'd by the prodigious Force,

Of an Empyreal Soul.

In your Lines let Energy be found,
And learn to rife in Senfe, and fink in Sound:
Slide without falling, without straining foar.
Harfh Words, tho' pertinent, uncooth appear,
None please the Fancy who offend the Ear.
In Senfe and Numbers if you would excel,
Read Wycherly, confider Dryden well.

Dennis to Dryd.

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