See on the Shore inhabits purple Spring, Where Nightingales their love-fick Ditties fing;
See Meads with purling Streams, with Flow'rs the Ground, The Grottoes cool with fhady Poplars crown'd,
And creeping Vines on Arbours fwerv'd around.
The early dawning of the Year,
While yet the Spring is young, while Earth unbinds
Her frozen Bofom to the western Winds;
While mountain Snows diffolve against the Sun,
And Streams, yet new, from Precipices run.
When Winter's Rage abates, when chearful Hours
Awake the Spring, and Spring awakes the Flow'rs;
'Tis then the Hills with pleafing Shades are crown'd,
And Sleeps are fweeter on the filken Ground.
With milder Beams the Sun fecurely fhines,
Fat are the Lambs, and luscious are the Wines.
The purple Spring arrays the various Ground.
The Trees are cloath'd with Leaves, the Fields
The Bloffoms blow, the Birds on Bushes fing,
And Nature has accomplish'd all the Spring.
The Horfes Flanks and Sides are forc'd to feel The clanking Lash, and Goring of the Steel.
With iron Heel his Courfer's Side,
Conveying sympathetick Speed
From Heel of Knight to Heel of Steed.
While Hudibras, with equal Hafte,
On both Sides laid about as faft;
And fpurr'd, as Jockies ufe, to break,
Or Padders, to fecure a Neck.
Adds the Remembrance of the Spur, and hides
The goring Rowels in his bleeding Sides.
As once the Phrygian Knight,
So ours with rufty Steel did fmite
His Trojan Horfe, and just as much
He mended Pace upon the Touch;
But from his empty Stomach groan'd,
Juft as that hollow Beaft did found;
And angry, anfwer'd from behind,
With brandifh'd Tail and Blaft of Wind.
So have I feen with armed Heel,
A Wight beftride a Common-weal;
While ftill the more he kick'd and spur'd,
The less the fullen Jade has stirr'd.
STAG. See Creation, Hunting.
On the Plain,
Three beamy Stags command a lordly Train
Of branching Heads; the more ignoble Throng
Attend their stately Steps, and flowly graze along. Dryd. Virg.
So when two vig'rous Stags, each of his Herd
The haughty Lord, thro' all the Foreft fear'd,
Refolv'd to try which muft in Combat yield,
In all their Might advance across the Field;
They nod their lofty Heads, and from afar
Flourish their Horns, preluding to the War.
The Combatants their threat'ning Heads incline,
And with their clafhing Horns in Battel join.
They rush to Combat with amazing Strokes,
And their high Antlars meet with dreadful Shocks;
The mighty Sound runs rattling o'er the Hills,
And Echo with the Fight the Valley fills:
Retiring oft, the Warriours ceafe to push,
But then with fiercer Rage to Battel rush.
The trembling Herds at Distance ftand, and ftay
To know the Conqu'ror whom they must obey.
Thus when a fearful Stag is clos'd around
With crimfon Toils, or in a River found,
High on the Bank the deep-mouth'd Hound appears,
Still op'ning, following ftill where'er he fteers:
The perfecuted Creature to and fro,
Turns here and there to 'fcape his Umbrian Foe:
Steep is th'Afcent, and if he gain the Land,
The purple Death is pitch'd along the Strand.
His eager Foe, determin'd to the Chafe,
Stretch'd at his length, gains Ground at ev'ry Pace:
Now to his beamy Head he makes his Way,
And now he holds, or thinks he holds the Prey;
Juft at the Pinch, the Stag fprings out with Fear,
He bites the Wind, and fills his founding Jaws with Air:
The Rocks, the Lakes, the Meadows ring with Cries, (Virg
The mortal Tumult mounts, and thunders in the Skies. Dryd
Thus like a Srag, whom all the Troop furrounds
Of eager Huntfmen, and invading Hounds;
No Flight is left, nor Hopes to force his Way:
Embolden'd by Defpair, he ftands at Bay;
Refolv'd on Death, he diffipates his Fears,
And bounds aloft against the pointed Spears.
So the tall Stag upon the Brink
Of fome fmooth Stream, about to drink,
Surveying there his armed Head,
With Shame remembers that he fled.
The Dogs he scorns; refolves to try
The Combat next; but if their Cry
Invade agen his trembling Ear,
He ftrait refumes his wonted Care ;
Leaves the untafted Spring behind,
And wing'd with Fear, out-flies the Wind.
On the Head of a Stag.
So we fome antique Heroe's Strength Learn by his Lance's Weight and Length, As thefe vaft Beams exprefs the Beast, Whose shady Brows alive they drefs'd. O fertile Head, which ev'ry Year Could fuch a Crop of Wonder bear! Which, might it never have been caft, Each Year's Growth added to the laft, These lofty Branches had fupply'd The Earth's bold Sons prodigious Pride: Heav'n with these Engines had been feal'd, When Mountains heap'd on Mountains fail'd. Wall, STANDARD. He from the glitt'ring Staff unfurl'd Th'imperial Enfign, which full high advanc'd, Shone like a Meteor ftreaming to the Wind, With Gems and golden Luftre rich imblaz'd, Seraphick Arms and Trophies! all the while Sonorous Metal blowing martial Sounds. All in a Moment through the Gloom were feen Ten thousand Banners rife into the Air, With orient Colours waving.
He wav'd his royal Banner in the Wind,
Where in an argent Field the God of War
Was drawn triumphant on his iron Carr;
Red was his Sword, and Shield, and whole Attire,
And all the Godhead feem'd to glow with Fire:
Ev'n the Ground glitter'd where the Standard flew,
And the green Grafs was dy'd to fanguin Hue. Dr. Pål. & Arts
STARS. See Creation, Sun.
The Sparks of Light,
The Gems that shine in the blue Ring of Heav'n. Lee Mithrid.
The Gems of Heav'n that gild Night's fable Throne. Dryd. The Moon's ftarry Train.
His marshall'd Clouds, to intercept the Light, Seal up the Stars, the twinkling Eyes of Night.
With Orbs of Light he inlays all the Spheres,. And studs the fable Night with filver Stars.
He spread the pure cerulean Fields on high,
And arch'd the Chambers of the vaulted Sky;
Which he, to fuit their Glory with their Height,
Adorn'd with Globes that reel as drunk with Light:
His Hand directed all the tuneful Spheres,
He turn'd their Orbs, and polish'd all the Stars.
As when the Stars in their ethereal Race,
At length have roul'd around the liquid Space,
At certain Periods they refume their Place.
From the fame Point of Heav'n their Course advance,
And move in Measures of their former Dance.
Guide of the ftarry Flock.
Faireft of Stars, laft in the Train of Night,
If better thou belong not to the Dawn:
Sure Pledge of Day, that crown'st the smiling Morn
With thy bright Circlet.
So from the Seas exerts his radiant Head,
The Star by whom the Lights of Heav'n are led;
Shakes from his rofy Locks the pearly Dews,
Difpels the Darkness, and the Day renews.
Bright Hesperus, that leads the ftarry Train; Whofe Office is to bring
Twilight upon the Earth: Short Arbiter 'Twixt Day and Night.
Falling Star. See Archers, Philofophy.
The feeming Stars fall headlong from the Skies,
And fhooting through the Darknefs gild the Night
With fweeping Glories and long Trails of Light.
The shooting Stars end all in purple Jellies.
STATUES. See Sculpture.
Statues that Skill inimitable show'd,
In beauteous Order on the Terrafs stood:
They show'd indeed, but yet fuch Life did fhow,
Spectators wonder'd why they did not go.
He carv'd in Ivory fuch a Maid, fo fair,
As Nature could not with his Art compare ;
Were the to work but in her own Defence,
Muft take her Pattern here, and copy hence.
Pleas'd with his Idol, he commends, admires,
Adores, and last, the thing ador'd defires.
A very Virgin in her Face was feen,
And had the mov'd, a living Maid had been.
One would have thought fhe could have ftirr'd, but ftrove
With Modefty, and was afham'd to move.
Art hid with Art, fo well perform'd the Cheat,
It caught the Carver with his own Deceit ;
He knows 'tis Madness, yet he must adore,
And still the more he knows it, loves the more.
Dryd, Ovid,
[Spoken of Pygmalion.]
STOCKS and. WHIPPING-POST.
At farther End o'th'Town there stands
An ancient Castle that commands
Th'adjacent Part: In all the Fabrick
You fhall not fee one Stone, nor a Brick;
But all of Wood, by pow'rful Spell
Of Magick made impregnable.
There's neither iron Bar, nor Gate,
Portcullis, Chain, nor Bolt, nor Grate
And yet Men Durance there abide,
In Dungeon fcarce three Inches wide,
With Roof fo low, that under it
They never ftand, but lie or fit;
And yet fo foul, that whofe is in
Is to the Middle-leg in Prifon :
In Circle Magical confin'd
With Walls of fubtle Air and Wind,
Which none are able to breath thorough
Until they are freed by Head of Borough.
Near th'outward Wall of this there ftands
A Baftile, built t'imprison Hands;
By ftrange Enchantment made to fetter
The leffer Parts, and free the greater;
For tho' the Body may creep through,
The Hands in Gate are faft enow.
And when a Circle 'bout the Wrist
Is made by Beadle Exorcift,
The Body feels the Spur and Switch,
As if 'twere ridden Poft by a Witch,
At twenty Miles an hour Pace,
And yet ne'er ftirs out of the Place.
For as the Ancients heretofore
To Honour's Temple had no Door,
But that which thorough Virtue's lay
So from this Dungeon there's no Way
To honour'd Freedom, but by paffing
That other virtuous School of Lafhing;
Where Knights are kept in narrow Lifts,
With wooden Lockets 'bout their Wrifts.
This fuffer'd, they are fet at large,
And freed with hon'rable Discharge.
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