Which in the Space of Seven fhort Years is done,
Th'immortal Line in fure Succeffion reigns;
The Fortune of the Family remains,
And Grandfires Grandfons the long Lifts contains.
But if inteftine Broils alarm the Hive,
(For Two Pretenders oft for Empire strive,)
The Vulgar in divided Factions jar,
And murm'ring Sounds proclaim the civil War.
Inflam'd with Ire, and trembling with Difdain,
Scarce can their Limbs their mighty Souls contain.
With Shouts the Coward's Courage they excite,
And martial Clangors call 'em out to fight.
With hoarfe Alarms the hollow Camp rebounds,
That imitates the Trumpets angry Sounds:
Then to their common Standard they repair,
The nimble Horsemen fcour the Fields of Air;
In Form of Battle drawn, they iffue forth,
And ev'ry Knight is proud to prove his Worth.
Preft for their Country's Honour, and their King's,
On their fharp Beaks they whet their pointed Stings,
And exercise their Arms, and tremble with their Wings.
Full in the Midft the haughty Monarchs ride,
The trufty Guards come up, and close the Side:
With Shouts the daring Foe to Battle is defy'd.
Thus in the Seafon of unclouded Spring,
To War they follow their undaunted King;
Croud thro' their Gates, and in the Fields of Light
The fhocking Squadrons meet in mortal Fight.
Headlong they fall from high, and wounded wound,
And Heaps of flaughter'd Soldiers bite the Ground.
Hard Hailftones lie not thicker on the Plain,
Nor fhaken Oaks fuch Show'rs of Acorns rain.
With gorgeous Wings, the Marks of Sov'raign Sway,
The Two contending Princes make their Way:
Intrepid thro' the Midft of Dangers go;
Their Friends incourage, and amaze the Foe.
With mighty Souls in narrow Bodies prefs'd,
They challenge and encounter Breaft to Breaft.
So fix'd on Fame, unknowing how to fly,
And obftinately bent to win or dye;
That long the doubtful Combat they maintain,
Till one prevails, for one can only reign.
Yet all thefe dreadful Deeds, this deadly Fray
A Gaft of scatter'd Duft will foọn allay,
And undecided leave the Fortune of the Day.
With ease diftinguifh'd is the regal Race;
One Monarch wears an open honeft Face,
E 3
Shap'd to his Size, and God-like to behold;
His royal Body fhines with Specks of Gold,
And ruddy Scales; For Empire he defign'd,
Is better born, and of a nobler Kind.
That other looks like Nature in Disgrace,
Gaunt are his Sides, and fullen is his Face:
And like their griefly Prince appears his gloomy Race:
Grim, ghaftly, rugged, like a thirsty Train,
That long have travell'd thro' a defart Plain :
And fpet from their dry Chaps the gather'd Duft again.
The better Brood, unlike the Baftard-Crew,
Are mark'd with royal Streaks of fhining Hue;
Glitt'ring and ardent, tho' in Body lefs.
Befides, not Egypt, India, Media more,
With fervile Love their Idol King adore:
While he furvives, in Concord and Content
The Commons live, by no Divifions rent,
But the great Monarch's Death diffolves the Government.
All goes to Ruin: They themselves contrive
To rob the Honey, and fubvert the Hive.
Then fince they fhare with Man one common Fate,
In Health and Sickness, and in Turns of State.
Obferve the Symptoms when they fall away,
And languish withinfenfible Decay :
They change their Hue, with haggard Eyes they stare,
Lean are their Looks, and fhagged is their Hair;
And Crowds of Dead, that never must return
To their lov'd Hives, in decent Pomp are born:
Their Friends attend the Herfe, the next Relations mourn.
The Sick for Air before the Portal gafp,
Their feeble Legs within each other clafp;
Or idle in their empty Hives remain,
Benum'd with Cold, and liftlefs of their Gain :
Such Whispers then, and broken Sounds are heard,
As when the Woods by gentle Winds are ftir'd:
Such ftifled Noife as the clofe Furnace hides,
Or dying Murmurs of departing Tides.
Prone to Revenge, the Bees, a wrathful Race,
When once provok'd, affault th'Oppreffor's Face:
And thro' the purple Veins a Paffage find,
There fix their Stings, and leave their Souls behind. Dryd.Virg. When golden Suns appear,
And under Earth have driv'n the Winter Year;
The winged Nation wanders thro' the Skies,
And o'er the Plains and fhady Forest flies:
Thén ftooping on the Meads, and leafy Bow'rs,
They skim the Floods, and fip the purple Flow'rs :
Then work their waxen Lodgings in their Hives,
And labour Honey to fuftain their Lives.
But when thou feeft a fwarming Cloud arife,
That sweeps alofs, and darkens all the Skies:
The Motions of their hafty Flight attend,
And know to Floods or Woods their airy March they bend.
Th'affembling Swarms,
Dark as a Cloud, then make a wheeling Flight,
And on a neighb'ring Tree, defcending, light:
Like a large Clufter of black Grapes they fhow,
And make a long Dependance from the Bough.
About the Boughs an airy Nation flew
Of humming Bees, that haunt the golden Dew;
In Summer's Heat on Tops of Lillies feed,
And creep within their Bells to fuck the balmy Seed.
The winged Army roams the Fields around;
The Rivers and the Rocks remurmur to the Sound. Dryd. Virg. Thus when the Swain, within a hollow Rock,
Invades the Bees with fuffocating Smoke;
They run around, or labour on their Wings,
Difus'd to Flight, and fhoot their fleepy Stings:
To fhun the bitter Fumes in vain they try;
Black Vapours, iffuing from the Vent, involve the Sky. Dryd.
There ftands a Rock, dafh'd with the breaking Wave
Of troubled Styx, where in a gloomy Cave,
Flowing with Gore, the fierce Bellona dwells;
And, bound with adamantine Fetters, yells:
Around ftand Heaps of moffy Skulls and Bones,
Whence iffue loud Laments and dreadful Groans:
Torn Limbs and mangled Bodies are her Food;
Her Drink, whole Bowls of Wormwood, Gall, and Blood:
Long curling Snakes her Head with Horrour crown,
And on her fquallid Back hang lolling down.
This gripes a bloody Dart, the other Hand
Grafps of infernal Fire a flaming Brand.
Treafon and Ufurpation, near ally'd,
Haughty Ambition, and elevated Pride,
And Cruelty, with bloody Garlands crown'd,
Rapine and Defolation ftand around.
With thefe, Injustice, Violence, Rage remain,
And ghaftly Famine with her meager Train.
BIRDS. See Country Life, Grove, Creation, Mufe.
The Birds, great Nature's Commoners,
That haunt in Woods, and Meads, and flow'ry Gardens,
Rifle the Sweets, and tafte the choiceft Fruits,
Yet fcorn to ask the lordly Owner's Leave.
BLAST, or BLIGHT.
The verdant Walks their charming Afpe&t lofe,
And fhrivel'd Fruit drops from the wither'd Boughs:
Flow'rs in their Virgin Blushes fmother'd die,
And round the Trees their scatter'd Beauties lie:
Infection taints the Air, fick Nature fades ;
And fuddain Autumn all the Place invades.
So when the Fields their flow'ry Pomp difplay,
Sooth'd by the Springs fweet Breath and chearing Ray;
If Boreas then, defigning envious War,
Mufters his fwift-wing'd Legions in the Air,
And then for fure Destruction marches forth,
With the cold Forces of the fnowy North:
The op'ning Buds, and sprouting Herbs, and all
The tender First-born of the Spring muft fall:
The blighted Trees their blooming Honours fhed,
And on their blafted Hopes the mournful Gard❜ners tread. Blacs
BLINDNESS. See Light.
All dark and comfortless!
Where are thofe various Objects that but now
Employ'd my bufy Eyes? Where those Eyes?
Dead are their piercing Rays, that lately fhot
O'er flow'ry Vales to diftant funny Hills,
And drew with Joy the vaft Horizon in.
Thefe groping Hands are now my only Guides,
And Feeling all my Sight.
Shut from the Living while among the Living!
Dark as the Grave amidft the bustling World!
At once from Bus'nefs and from Pleafure barr'd!
No.rare to view the Beauty of the Spring!
Nor fee the Face of Kindred or of Friend!
O firft created Beam! and thou great Word,
Let there be Light! and Light was over all:
Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime Decree?
Why was the Sight
To fuch a tender Ball as th'Eye confin'd,
So obvious, and fo eafy to be quench'd?
And not, as Feeling, thro' all Parts diffus'd ?
That the might look at Will thro' ev'ry Pore?
O Happiness of Blindness! Now no Beauty
-Inflames my Luft; no others Good my Envy,
Or Mifery my Pity: No Man's Wealth
Draws my Refpe&t, nor Poverty my Scorn.
Yet ftill I fee enough! Man to himfelf
Is a large Profpe&t, rais'd above the Level
Of his low creeping Thoughts.
A crimson Blush her beauteous Face o'erfpread,
Varying her Cheeks by turns with White and Red:
The driving Colours, never at a Stay,
Run here and there, and flufh, and fade away.
Delightful Change! thus Indian Iv'ry fhows,
Which with the bord'ring Paint of Purple glows;
Or Lillies damask'd by the neighb'ring Rofe.
In rifing Blushes ftill freth Beauties rofe;
The funny Side of Fruit fuch Blushes shows,
And fuch the Moon, when all her filver White
Turns in Eclipfes to a ruddy Light.
Such lovely Stains the Face of Heav'n adorn,
When Light's first Blushes paint the bashful Morn:
So on the Bush the flaming Rofe does glow,
When mingled with the Lilly's neighb'ring Snow.
See, my Palmyra comes: The frighted Blood
Scarce yet recall'd to her pale Cheeks;
Like the firft Streaks of Light broke loose from Darkness,
And dawning into Blushes.
Let me for ever gaze,
And blefs the new-born Glories that adorn thee:
From ev'ry Blush that kindles in thy Cheeks,
Ten thoufand little Loves and Graces fpring,
To revel in the Roses.
BOAR. See Duel, Enjoyment, Hunting.
As a favage Boar, on Mountains bred,
With Foreft-Maft and fat'ning Marshes fed
When once he fees himself in Toils inclos'd,
By Huntsmen and their eager Hounds oppos'd,
He whets his Tusks, and turns, and dares the War;
Th'Invaders dart their Jav'lins from afar :
All keep aloof, and fafely fhout around;
But none prefume to give a nearer Wound :
He frets and froths, erects his bristled Hide,
And shakes a Grove of Lances from his Side.
His Eye-balls glare with Fire, fuffus'd with Blood;
His Neck fhoots up a thick-fet thorny Wood:
His briftled Back a Trench impal'd appears,
And ftands erected like a Field of Spears.
Froth fills his Chaps, he fends a grunting Sound;
And part he churns, and part befoams the Ground.
For Tusks, with Indian Elephants he ftrove;
And Jove's own Thunder from his Mouth he drove.
He fuffers not the Corn its yellow Beards to rear,
But tramples down the Spikes, and intercepts the Year.
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