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النشر الإلكتروني




HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he conld move;
So hung his destiny, never to rot,
While he might still jog on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion nuinber'd out his time;
And, like an engine mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended straight.
Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath';
Nor were it contradiction to affirm,
Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the tiine away he sickeu'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
56 Nay,” quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,
" If I may'nt carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow though the cross doctors all stood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six hearers,"
Ease was his chief disease ; and, to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life hurdensome,
That ev'n to his last breath, (there be that say't,)
As he were press'd to death, he cry'd, more weight;
But, had his doings lasted as they were,
lle had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon be spent his date





in course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yęt (strange to think) his wain was his increase :
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,
Only remains this superscription.





HENCE, loathed Melancholy,
of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian care forlorn,

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy !
Find out some unconth cell,
Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,
And the night-raven sings;

There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
But come, thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'u yclep'd Euphrusyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth;
Whom lovely Venus, at a birth,
With two sister Graces inore,
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore:
Or whether (as some sager sipg)
The frolic wind, that breathes the spring,
Zephyr, with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying ;
There on beds of violets blue,
The fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew,

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Filld her with thee a daughter fair,
So baxom, blithe, and debonair.

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful Jollity.
Qnips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And laughter holding both his sides.
Come and trip it, as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty;
And, if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-tow'r in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet-briar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine :
While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin;
And to the stack, or the barn-door,
Stoutly struts his dames before :
Oft list'uing how the hounds and hora
Cheeriy royse the slumb’ring morn,

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From the side of some hoar bill,

55 Through the high wood echoing shrill : Some time waliing, not unseen, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate, Where the great sun begins his state,

60 Rob'd in flames, and aniber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the plowman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd laud, And the milkmaid singeth blithe,

65 And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Uuder the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Whilst the landskip round it measures,

70 Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains, on whose barren breast The lab'ring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied,

55 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide : Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighb'ring eyes.

80 Hard hy a cottage chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met, Are at their savory dinner set

80. “ Cynosure of neighb’ring eyes.” The pole star, in the. lesser bear.

This day; but 0, ere long, fluge pangs and strong

Will pierce more near his heart.




BLEST pair of Syrens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,
Sphere born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd pow'r employ
Dead thiugs with inbreath'd sense able to pierce;
And to our high-rais'd phantasy present
That undisturb’d song of pure consent,
Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne
To him that sits thereon,
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee;
Where the bright Seraphim, in burning row,
Their loud-uplifted angel-trumpets blow;
And the cherubic host, in thousand quires,
Tonch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
Singing everlastingly:
That we on earth, with undiscording voice,
May rightly answer that melodious noise ;
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin
Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great lord, whose love their motion sway'd
To perfect diapason, whilst they stood


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