Then, groaning from the Bottom of his Breast,
He heav'd for Vent, and thus his Wrath exprefs'd. Dr. Vir.
Burning with Fury, from his Eyes the Flames
Like Lightning flew: Sorrow, immix'd with Rage,
Poffefs'd his Soul
Oldifw. Hom.
She this Way moves, with a diforder'd Hafte;
Her Brows the ftormy Marks of Anger bear. Dryd. Auren. O do not look fo terribly upon me,
(Ven. Pref. How your Lips fhake, and all your Face diforder'd! Otway I fee thou art implacable, more deaf
To Pray'rs than Winds and Seas; yer Winds to Seas
Are reconcil'd at length, and Sea to Shore:
Thy Anger, unappeafable, ftill rages,
Eternal Tempeft, never to be calm'd. Milt. Sam. Agon.
Weeping for Anger.
Now Tears of Rage, not Pity, drown'd her Eyes. D'Aven.
Unable to exprefs his Indignation,
Speechlefs he ftood, and told his Rage by Tears. Old. Hom.
The fullen Tyrant flept not all the Night,
But, lonely walking by a winking Light,
Sobb'd, wept, and groan'd, and beat his wither'd Breast.
Then all at once his Grief and Rage appear'd,
And Floods of Tears ran trickling down his Beard. Dryd. (Bocc. Sig. & Guife.
In genial Spring, beneath the quiving Shade
Where cooling Vapours breathe along the Mead,
The patient Fisher takes his filent Stand,
Intent, his Angle trembling in his Hand:
With Looks unmov'd, he hopes the fcaly Breed,
eyes the dancing Cork, and bending Reed.
Our plenteous Streams a various Race fupply,
The bright-ey'd Perch, with Fins of Tyrian Dye;
The filver Eel, in fhining Volumes roul'd;
The yellow Carp, in Scales bedropp'd with Gold;
Swift Tronts, diverfify'd with crimifon Stains;
And Pikes, the Tyrants of the wat'iy Plains. Pope,
The Sun, revolving thro' th'Etherial Space,
The fhining Circle of the Year has fill'd. Dryd. Virg
And now the rifing Day renews the Year. Dryd. Virg.
The revolving Sun
His crooked Race has thro' the Zodiack run. Blac. P. Arth.
Ten Times the Sun had pafs'd his oblique Way,
By Turns contracting and increasing Day,
Darting to either Pole a warmer Ray. Blac. P. Arth.
A frugal People, and inur'd to Sweat;
Lab'ring to gain, and keeping what they get. Stoneft. Ov. As when the Ants invade a Heap of Wheat,
Mindful of Winter goes the dusky Train
Thro' Lawns, to fill their empty Stores with Grain,
Bearing through narrow Paths, fome guard the Prey,
Some with more Labour weighty Ears convey;
Some to their Task the itraggling Troops confine;
Some push the Slow: Thus all in Labour join. Laud. Virg
Thus, with fam'd Providence, the slender Ant,
The great Example of good Management,
Whilft the fair Seafon lafts, and lavish'd Grain
Profufely on the Floors unwatch'd remain,
Industrioufly his little Garner fills,
And the Provifions for his Winterfteals:
Grateful he takes what the Occafion grants,
And with his prefent Wafte fupplies his future Wants.
And when the Winter fharper grows,
And the decaying Year turns hoar with Snows;
When Nature's Penury can nought afford,
The little Beast lives, wanton on his Hoard,
On what, with anxious Care, his prudent Forefight ftor❜d., The wifer Emmet
In Summer-time ranges the Fallows o'er,
With Pains and Labour, to lay in his Store;
But, when the bluft'ring North, with ruffling Blafs,
Saddens the Year, and Nature overcafts,
The prudent Infect, hid in Privacy,
Enjoys the Fruits of his paft Industry.
No Ant of Senfe was e'er fo awkward feen,
To drudge in Winter, loiter in the Spring. Oldh.
As when, Earth's Son, Antæus
in Iraffa itrove
With Jove's Alcides, and, oft foil'd, ftill rofe,
Receiving from his Mother Earth new Strength,
Fresh from his Fall, and fiercer Grapple join'd,
Throttled at length in th'Air,expir'd and fell. Milt Par. Reg.
I love this Man, who runs to meet his Ruin,
And fure the Gods, like me, are fond of him:
His Virtues lie fo mingled with his Crimes,
It would confound their Choice to punish one,
And not reward the other..
Virtue's his Path; but fometimes 'tis too narrow
For his vaft Soul; and then he starts out wide,
And bounds into a Vice, that bears him far
From his firft Courfe, and plunges him in Ills:
But, when his Danger makes him find his Fault,
Quick to obferve, and full of fharp Remorse,
He cenfures eagerly his own Mifdeeds,
Judging himself with Malice to himself,
And not forgiving what as Man he did,
Because his other Parts are more than Man.
Can any Roman fee, and know him now,
Thus alter'd from the Lord of half Mankind;
Unbent, unfinew'd, made a Woman's Toy,
Shrunk from the vaft Extent of all his Honours,
And cramp'd within a Corner of the World?
O Anthony!
Thou braveft Soldier, and thou beft of Friends!
Bounteous as Nature! next to Nature's God!
Could'st thou but make new Worlds, fo would't thou give
As Bounty were thy Being; Rough in Battel
As the firft Romans, when they went to War;
Yet, after Victory, more pitiful,
Than all their praying Virgins left at Home.
Behold, ye Pow'rs,
To whom you have intrufted Humane Kind:
See Europe, Africk, Afia, put in Balance,
And all weigh'd down by one light, worthless Woman!
I think the Gods are Anthony's, and give,
Like Prodigals, this nether World away,
To none but wasteful Hands.
But you, ere Love mifled your wand'ring Eyes, Were fure the chief and best of humane Race, Fram'd in the very Pride and Boast of Nature,
So perfect, that the Gods, who form'd you, wonder'd
At their own Skill, and cry'd, a lucky Hit
Has mended our Defign. Their Envy hinder'd,
Elfe you had been immortal, and a Pattern,
When Heaven would work for Oftentation Sake,
To copy out again. Dryd. All for Love.
ANTIPO DE S.
Ev'n as our Shadows in fmooth Streams appear,
So Feet to Feet fome Animals walk there,
Yet can no fooner fall into thofe Skies
That lie beneath, than we to Heav'n can rife:
When Phoebus climbs their Eaft, the feeble Light
Of Stars peeps forth, and beautifies our Night. Creech Lucr.
For when Aurora leaves our Northern Sphere,
She lights the downward Heav'n, and rifes there;
And when on us the breaths the living Light,
Red Vefper kindles there the Tapers of the Night. Dr. Virg.
With his dread Bow, and never erring Darts. Broome Hom. See! the far-fhooting Son of Great Latona! Oldif. Hom. God of the filver Bow, whofe Eyes furvey
The facred Cilla: Thou, whofe awful Sway
Cryfa the bleft, and Tenedos, obey.
Apollo, O thou greatest Deity!
Patron of blefs'd Soractis, and of me;
For we are all thy own: Whole Woods of Pine
We heap in Piles, which to thy Glory fhine;
And, when we trample on the Fire, our Soles,
By thee preferv'd, contemn the glowing Coals. Staff. Virg.
O Father Phoebus! whether Lycia's Coaft
And fnowy Mountains thy bright Prefence boaft;
Whether to fweet Caftalia thou repair,
And bathe in filver Dews thy yellow Hair;
Or, pleafed to find fair Delos float no more,
Delight in Cynthus and the fandy Shore;
Or chufe thy Sear in Ilion's proud Abodes,
The fhining Structures rais'd by lab'ring Gods.
By thee the Bow and mortal Shafts are borne;
Eternal Charms thy blooming Youth adorn.
Skill'd in the Laws of fecret Fate above,
And the dark Counfels of Almighty Jove..
Thou doft the Seeds of future War foreknow,
The Change of Sceptres, and impending Woe:
Thy Rage the Phrygian felt, who durft afpire
T'excel the Mufick of thy heav'nly Lyre;
Thy Shafts aveng'd lewd Tityus' guilty Flame,
Th'immortal Victim of thy Mother's Fame:
Thy Hand flew Python, and the Dame who lost
Her num'rous Offspring for a fatal Boast.
In Phlegyas' Doom thy juft Revenge appears,
Condemn'd to Furies, and eternal Fears;
He views the Food, would tafte, yet dares not try,
But dreads the mould'ring Rock, that trembles from on high.
Or, if the Style of Titan please thee more,
Whofe purple Rays th'Achæmenes adore;
Or great Ofyris, who firft taught the Swain,
In Pharian Fields, to fow the golden Grain;
Or Mitra, to whofe Beams the Perfian bows,
And pays in hollow Rocks his awful Vows;
Mitra, whofe Head the Blaze of Light adorns,
Who grafps the struggling Heifer's Lunar Horns. Pope. Stat.
Hear me, O hear me; thou, tho' far remote,
Canft hear the humble Suppliants who invoke thee. Ol. Hom.
Fair-hair'd Latona's Son,
Great God, whofe fhining Arrows are fo dreadful;
Thou, who fam'd Cilla doft protect, and Chryfa';
Whom Tenedos obeys, Smyntheus Apollo! Ozell Hom.
Temple of APOLLO at Cuma.
The pious Prince afcends the facred Hill,
Where Phoebus is ador❜d, and seeks the Shade
Which hides from Sight his venerable Maid :
Deep in a Cave the Sybil makes abode,
Thence full of Fate returns, and of the God.
Thro' Trivia's Grove they walk, and now behold,
And enter now, the Temple roof'd with Gold..
When Dædalus, to fhun the Cretan Shore,
His heavy Limbs on jointed Pinions bore,
The first who fail'd in Air, 'tis fung by Fame,
To the Cumaan Coaft at length he came,
And, here alighting, built this coftly Frame.
Infcrib'd to Phoebus, here he hung on high
The Steerage of his Wings, that cut the Sky:
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