Ravish'd with Wars, and Danger's horrid Charms,
He with impetuous Ardour flew to Arms:
Soon as the rang'd Battallions came in Sight,
He felt fierce Joy, and terrible Delight,
And fhudder'd with his Eagerness to fight.
What Flames flew from his Eyes, when he from far
View'd the fowr Brows, and murthering Jaws of War!
Rough in Battel
As the first Romans, when they went to War;
Yet after Victory more pitiful,
Than all their praying Virgins left at home. Dryd. All for Love. Had'st thou once feen him, like the God of War,
While griefly Terrour perch'd upon his Plume,
Severely fhining in his dreadful Helmet,
And thund'ring thro' the Tempeft of the Field. Den,Rin.& Arm.
When the young Hero, yet unfledg'd in Arms,
Made the tough Age of bold Ramirez bend,
He fought like Mars defcending from the Skies,
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And look'd like Venus rifing from the Waves. Dryd. Love Trium.
How nobly he becomes the great Battallion!
See how he fhines in Arms, and funs the Field!
Moves, fpeaks, and fights, and is himself a War.
Adorn'd with Sweat, and painted gay with Blood,
He hews down all, and deals his Deaths around.
.Thro' all the Mazes of the bloody Field
I hunted his facred Life. I fought him
Where Ranks fell thickeft; 'twas indeed the Place,
To feek Sebaftian; thro' a Tract of Death
I follow'd him by Groans of dying Men:
But ftill I came too late; for he was flown,
Like Lightning, fwift before me, to new Slaughter.
I mow'd acrofs, and made irregular Harvest,
Defac'd the Pomp of Battle, but in vain ;
For he was ftill fupplying Death elsewhere.
As for Sebaftian, we must fearch the Field,
And where we fee a Mountain of the Slain,
Send one to climb, and locking down below,
There fhall he find him at his manly Length,
With his Face up to Heav'n, in the red Monument
Which his true Sword has digg'd.
He in the Battle had a thirsty Sword,
And well 'twas glutted there.
Succefs attended ftill his brandifh'd Sword,
And like the Grave, the glutt'nous Blade devour'd:
Slaughter upon its Point in Triumph fate,
And scatter'd Death as quick and wide as Fate.
Twelve Legions wait you,
And long to call you Chief: By painful Journeys
I led them, patient of both Heat and Hunger:
'Twill do you good to fee their Sun-burnt Faces,
Their fcarr'd Cheeks, and chopt Hands; there's Virtue in They'll fell thofe mangled Limbs at dearer Rates
Than trim Bands can buy. yon
Impatient of the tedious Night, in Arms
Watchful they food, expecting op'ning Day:
And now are hardly by their Leaders held,
From darting on the Foe: Like a hot Courfer,
That bounding paws the mould'ring Soil, difdaining
The Rein that checks him, eager for the Race.
Oh thou haft fir'd me! my Soul is up in Arms,
And mans each Part about me: Once again
That noble Eagernefs of Fight has fiez'd me,
That Eagernefs, with which I darted upward
To Caffius Camp: In vain the steepy Hill
Oppos'd my Way: In vain a War of Spears
Sung round my Head, and planted all my Shield:
I won the Trenches while my foremost Men
Lagg'd on the Plain below. Come on, my Soldier!
Our Hearts and Arms are ftill the fame: I long
Once more to meet our Foes, that thou and I,
Like Time and Death, marching before our Troops,
May tafte Fate to 'em, mow 'em out a Paffage,
And entring where the foremoft Squadrons yield,
Begin the nobleft Harvest of the Field.
O Solitude! firft State of human Kind,
Which bleft remain'd, till Man did find
Ev'n his own Helper's Company!
Affoon as two, alas! together join'd,
The Serpent made up three.
Thee God himself thro' countless Ages, thee
His fole Companion chofe to be!
Thee, facred Solitude! alone,
Before the branchy Head of Numbers three
Sprung from the Trunck of one.
Ah! wretched and too folitary He,
Who loves not his own Company!
He'll feel the Weight of't ev'ry Day,
Unless he call in Sin or Vanity,
To help to bear't away.
For Solitude fometimes is beft Society:
What Happiness? Who can enjoy alone?
Or all enjoying what Contentment find?
SORROW. See Despair, Funeral, Grief, Tears, Weeping
He at the News
Heart-ftruck, with chilling Gripe of Sorrow stood,
That all his Senfes bound.
Some fecret Anguish rouls within his Breaft,
That shakes him, like an Earthquake, which he preffes,
And will not give it Vent.
He blushes and would speak, and wants a Voice,
And ftares, and gapes like a forbidden Ghost.
Darkness, and Solitude, and Sighs, and Tears,
And all the infeperable Train of Grief,
Attend my Steps for ever.
Misfortunes on Misfortunes press upon me,
Swell o'er my Head like Waves, and dash me down.
Sorrow, Remorfe, and Shame have torn my Soul,
And blaft the Spring and Promife of my Year.
They hang like Winter on my youthful Hopes:
So Flow'rs are gather'd to adorn à Grave,
To lofe their Freshness among Bones and Rottennefs,
And have their Odours ftifled in the Duft.
All Ages, all Degrees unfluice their Eyes;
And Heav'n and Earth refound with Murmurs,
Matrons and Maidens beat their Breafts, and tear
Their Habits, and root up their scatter'd Hair.
Confufion, Fear, Distraction, and Disgrace,
And filent Shame, ate feen on ev'ry Face.
Distracted with ungovernable Woe,
All mingle Tears; their Cries together flow,
And form a hideous Harmony of Wue.
The wretched Parent with a pious Hafte,
Came running, and his lifelefs Limbs embrac'd:
Accufing all the Gods, and ev'ry Star.
The wretched Father, Father now no more,
With Sorrow funk, lies proftrate on the Floor;
Deforms his hoary Locks with Duft obfcene,
Row. Fair Pen. (Cries. Groans, and
And curfes Age, and loaths a Life prolong'd with Pain.
Had I a Hundred Tongues, a Wit so large,
As could their Hundred Offices discharge;
Had Phoebus all his Helicon beftow'd,
In all the Streams, infpiring all the Gods;
Thofe Tongues, that Wit, thofe Streams, that God, in vain
Would offer to defcribe his Sifter's Pain.
They beat their Breafts with many a bruizing Blow,
Till they turn'd livid, and corrupt the Snow:
The Corps they cherish'd, while the Corps remains,
And exercife and rub with fruitless Pains.
And when to fun'ral Flames 'tis born away
They kifs the Bed on which the Body lay.
And when thofe fun'ral Flames no longer burn, (The Duft compos'd within a pious Urn)
Ev'n in that Urn their Brother they confefs,
And hug it in their Arms, and to their Bofoms prefs.Dryd.Ovid.
Mean time no fquallid Grief his Looks defiles,
He gilds his fadder Fate with nobler Smiles.
Thus the World's Eye, with reconciled Streams
Shines in his Showers, as if he wept his Beams.
SPIRIT S.
Spirits, that live throughout,
Vital in ev'ry Part, not as frail Man,
In Entrails, Head or Heart, Liver or Reins,
Cannot, but by annihilating, die;
Nor in their liquid Texture mortal Wound
Receive, no more than cạn the fluid Air:
All Heart they live, all Head, all Eye, all Ear,
All Intellect, all Sense; and, as they please,
They limb themselves, and Colour, Shape, or Size.
Affume, as likes them beft, condense or rare.
For Spirits, when they please,
Can either Sex affume, or both; fo foft,
And uncompounded is their Effence pure,
Not ty'd or manacl'd with Joynt or Limb,
Nor founded on the brittle Strength of Bones,
Like cumbrous Flesh; but in what Shape they chufe,
Dilated or condens'd, bright or obfcure,
Can execute their airy Purposes,
And Works of Love or Enmity fulfil.
The SPRING. See Venus, Year.
When with his golden Horns in full Carreer,
The Bull beats down the Barriers of the Year;
And Argos and the Dog forfake the Northern Sphere. Dryd. Virg.
Now turning from the wintry Signs, the Sun
His Course exalted thro' the Ram had run:
And whirling up the Skies, his Chariot drove
Thro' Taurus, and the lightfom Realms of Love;
When Venus from her Orb defcends in Show'rs
To glad the Ground, and paint the Fields with Flow'rs:
When firft the tender Blades of Grafs appear,
And Buds that yet the Blafts of Eurus fear,
Stand at the Door of Life, and doubt to cloath the Year:
Till gentle Heat, and foft repeated Rains,
Make the green Blood to dance within their Veins;
Then, at their Call embolden'd, out they come,
And fwell the Gems, and burft the narrow Room:
Broader and broader yet their Blooms display;
Salute the welcom Sun, and entertain the Day.
Then from their breathing Souls their Sweets repair
To scent the Skies, and purge th'unwholfom Air.
Joy fpreads the Heart, and with a gen'rous Song (and the Leaf.
Spring iflues out,and leads the jolly Months along.Dr.The Flower
The Spring adorns the Woods, renews the Leaves,
The Womb of Earth the genial Seed receives;
For then Almighty Jove defcends, and pours
Into his buxom Bride his fruitful Show'rs;
And mixing his large Limbs with hers, he feeds
Her Births with timely Juice, and fofters teeming Seeds.
Then joyous Birds frequent the lonely Grove,
And Beafts, by Nature ftung, renew their Love.
Then Fields the Blades of bury'd Corn disclose,
And while the balmy Western Spirit blows,
Earth to the Breath her Bofom dares expofe.
With kindly Moisture then the Plants abound,
The Grafs fecurely fprings above the Ground:
The tender Twig fhoots upward to the Skies,
And on the Faith of the new Sun relies.
The fwerving Vines on the tall Elms prevail,
Unhurt by Southern Show'rs, or Northern Hail:
They fpread their Gems the genial Warmth to fhare,
And boldly trust their Buds in open Air.
In this foft Seafon, (let me dare to fing,)
The World was hatch'd by Heav'ns imperial King,
In Prime of all the Year, and Holy-days of Spring.
Then did the new Creation first appear,
Nor other was the Tenour of the Year;
When laughing Heav'n did the great Birth attend,
And Eaftern Winds their wintry Breath fufpend;
Then Sheep firft faw the Sun in open Fields,
And favage Beafts were fent to stock the Wilds;
And golden Stars flew up to light the Skies,
And Man's relentless Race from ftony Quarries rife.
Nor could the tender new Creation bear
Th'exceffive Heats or Coldness of the Year;
But chill'd by Winter, or by Summer fir'd,
The middle Temper of the Spring requir'd:
When Warmth and Moisture did at once abound,
And Heav'ns Indulgence brooded on the Ground. Dryd. Virg.
When Spring makes equal Day,
When Western Winds on curling Waters play;
When painted Meads produce their flow'ry Crops,
And Swallows twitter on the Chimney-tops.
Now lavish Nature has adorn'd the Year;
Now the pale Primrofe, and blue Vi'let fpring,
And Birds effay their Throats, difus'd to fing.
(and the Fox. Dryd. The Cock
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