'Twas one vaft Nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee.

II.

Thine was the sway, ere heav'n was form'd, or

earth, Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd creation's birth, Or midwife Word gave aid, and spoke the infant

forth.

III.

7

Then various elements, against thee join'd,

In one more various animal combin'd,
And fram'd the clam'rous race of busy Human-kind.

IV.

The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low,

"Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show, And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe.

V.

But rebel Wit deserts thee oft' in vain;

Loft in the maze of words he turns again,
And seeks a furer state, and courts thy gentle reign. 15

VI.
Aflicted Sense thou kindly doft set free,

Oppress'd with argumental tyranny,
And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee.

VII,
With thee in private moden Dulness lies,

And in thy bofom lurks in Thought's disguise ; Thou varnisher of Fools, and cheat of all the Wise!

VIII.
Yet thy indulgence is by both confeft;

Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breaft,
And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom feeks for reft.

IX.
Silence the knave's repute, the whore's good name,

The only honour of the wishing dame;
Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of
Fame.

X.
But could'st thou feize fome tongues that now are

free, How Church and State should be oblig'd to thee? AtSenate, and at Bar, how welcome would'it thou be?

XI.
Yet speech ev'n there, submissively withdraws,

From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause : Then pompous Silence reigns, and fills the noisy Laws.

XII.
Past services of friends, good deeds of foes,

What Fav'rites gain, and what the Nation owes, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose.

XIII.
The country wit, religion of the town,

The courtier's learning, policy o’th' gown,
Are best by thee exprefs'd; and shine in thee alone,

XIV.
The parson's cant, the lawyer's fophiftry,

Lord's quibble, critic's jest; all end in thee,
All reft in peace at last, and sleep eternally.

VI.

E. of DORSET.

ARTEMISI A.

T

HÓ' Artemisia talks, by fits,

Of councils, classics, fathers, wits; Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke : Yet in some things methinks she fails, Twere well if she would pare her nails,

And were a cleaner smock.

Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride,
Such naftiness, and so much pride

Are oddly join'd by fate :
On her large squab you find her spread,
Like a fat corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.

She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;

All white and black beside :
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her stride.

20

So have I seen, in black and white
A praring thing, a Magpye hight,

Majestically stalk;
A stately, worthlefs animal,
That plies the tongue,

and
wags

the tail,
All flutter, pride, and talk.