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O thou, who know't, beyond the Reach of Man,
The Laws of Heav'n, and what the Stars decree;
Whom Phoebus taught unerring Prophecy,
From his own Tripod, and his holy Tree:
Skill'd in the wing'd Inhabitants of Air,

What Aufpices their Notes and Flights declare. Dryd. Virg.
He mark'd the Tracts of ev'ry Bird that flew,

And fure Prefages from their flying drew. Dryd. Ovid.
Vers'd in Portents, experienc'd, and infpir'd

To tell Events, and what the Fates requir'd. Dryd. Virg
He Heav'n interprets, and the wand'ring Stars;

From offer'd Entrails Prodigies expounds,

And Peals of Thunder, with prefaging Sounds. Dryd. Virg. Some frantick Augur has obferv'd the Skies:

Some Victim wants a Heart, or Crow flies wrong.

Shall I go publifh Hector dares not fight,

Because a Madman dreamt he talk'd with Jove?
What could the God fee in a brain-fick Prieft,

(& Crefs.

That he fhould fooner talk to him than me? Dryd. Troil. Now, Dotard, now; thou blind old Wizard, Prophet, Where are your boding Ghofts, your Altars now,

Your Birds of Knowledge, that in dusky Air

Chatter Futurity

Lee, Oedip.

AURORA,

So, when Aurora firft falutes the Sight,
Pleas'd, we behold the tender Dawn of Light,
But when with riper Red fhe warms the Skies,
In circling Throngs the wing'd Muficians rife,
And the gay Groves rejoice in Symphonies..
Each pearly Flow'r with painted Beauty fhines,
And ev'ry Star its fading Fire refigns. Garth.
Like bright Aurora, whofe refulgent Ray
Forttels the fervour of enfuing Day,

And warns the Shepherd with his Flocks Retreat
To leafy Shadows from the threaten'd Hear. Wall.
Thus breaks Aurora thro' the Veil of Night,

Thus fly the Clouds, divided by her Light,

And ev'ry Eye receives a new born Sight. Cong. Old Bas.. Aurora now had left Tithonus' Bed,

}

And o'er the World her blufhing Rays had fpread. Den. Vir,
Behold the fair Aurora rife,

And gild with purple Beams the blufhing Skies:
The warbling Lark falutes her chearful Ray,
And welcomes with his Song the rifing Day,,

The

The rifing Day ambrofial Dew distils;

Th'ambrofial Dew with balmy Odours fills

The Flow'rs; the Flow'rs rejoice, and Nature fmiles. Br, So, when Aurora firft unveils her Eyes,

A purple Dawn invests the blushing Skies. Gay, Ovid.
AUTUMN.

Next Autumn, when the Sun's withdrawing Ray
The Night enlarges, and contracts the Day,
To crown his Labour, to the Farmer yields
The yellow Treasures of his fruitful Fields;
Ripens the Harvest for the crooked Steel,
(While bending Stalks the rural Weapon feel)
The fragrant Fruit for the nice Palate fits

And to the Prefs the fwelling Grape fubmits. Blac.
Our Woods, with Juniper and Chestnuts crown'd,
With falling Fruits and Berries paint the Ground, (Virg.
And lavish Nature laughs, and ftrews her Stores around. Dr.

B..

BABE.

Mis helpless caft on the wild Coafts of Life,

A N at his Birth; unhappy Son of Grief,

In want of all Things whence our Comforts flow,
A fad and moving Spectacle of Woe!
Infants in ill-prefaging Cries complain,

As confcious of a coming Life of Pain:

All Things mean-time to Beafts kind Nature grants,
Prevents their Suffings, and fupplies their Wants:

Brought forth with Eafe, they grow, and skip, and feed,
No dandling Nurfe, or gingling Gugaw need

;

In Caves they luk, or o'er the Mountains range,
Nor ever thro' the Year their Garment change:
Unvers'd in Arms, and ignorant of War,
They need no Forts, and no Invafion fear:
Whate'er they want, from Nature's Hand they gain,
The Life fhe gave, the watches to maintain.

Blac. Lucr..
With Throes and Pangs into the World we come,
The Curfe and Burthen of the Womb;
Nor wretched to our felves alone,

Our Mothers Labours introduce our own.
In Cries and Tears our Infancy we wafte,
Thofe fad prophetick Tears that flow,
By Inftinct of our future Woe:

And ev❜n our Dawn of Life with Sorrow's overcaft. Yald.

As

As foon as born, he helpless lies,

And mourns his Woes in ill-prefaging Cries;
Bar does not Nature for the Child prepare
The Parents Love, the Nurfes tender Care,
Who, of their own forgetful, feek his Good,

(Blac.

Infold his Limbs in Bands, and fill his Veins with Food? The lovely Babe was born with ev'ry Grace;

Ev'n Envy must have prais'd so fair a Face:

Such was his Form, as Painters, when they show.
Their utmost Art, on naked Loves beftow;

And, that their Arms no Diffrence might betray,

Give him a Bow, or his from Cupid take away. Dryd. Ovid.
When humbly on the Royal Babe we gaze,

The manly Lines of a Majestick Face
Give awful Joy: 'Tis Paradife to look
On the fair Frontispiece of Nature's Book :
If the first op'ning Page fo charms the Sight,
Think how th'unfolded Volume will delight!
See how the venerable Infant lies

In early Pomp; how thro' the Mother's Eyes
The Father's Soul, with an undaunted View,
Looks out, and takes our Homage as his Due.
See on his future Subjects how he fmiles,
Nor meanly flatters, nor with Craft beguiles;
But, with an open Face, as on his Throne,

Affures our Birthrights, and affumes his own. Dryda (fpoken of the Prince of Wales.

BACCHANALS.

Like Bacchanals the beaten Ground they shake,
As when of old the trembling Earth they trod
In meafur'd Rounds, to pleafe the luftful God:
When their lewd Songs to Priapus they fung,
And Groves obfcene with founding Cymbals rung.
She, like a Fury, roams about the Town.

And then the, madding, roves o'er Hills and Plains;
In Woods the facred Rights to Bacchus feigns.
To fhaded Hills her Daughter fhe conveys,
And Evoë roars aloud; Bacchus, the faid,
Bacchus is only worthy of the Maid:

To thee fhe Dances leads, for thee her flowing Hair
She feeds, and bears for thee an Ivy Spear.
Like Madness all the Latine Matrons feiz'd,

They quit their own, to feek new Dwellings pleas'd;

То

To wanton Winds expose their trembling Hair,

While fome with Howlings rend the trembling Air,
And wrapp'd in Skins, they Vine-leav❜d Lances bear.
The Queen a Torch amidst the giddy Throng
Suftains, and fings young Turnus' nuptial Song;
And then the darts her fanguine Looks around,
And of a fudden cries with dreadful Sound,
Jo, ye Latine Dames, if Parents Care

Can touch your Hearts, with me unbind your Hair,
And Bacchus' Rites purfue: Thro' Woods and Wilds
They run; Alecto drives them thro' the Fields. Laud..

BACCHUS.

O Bacchus, God of Joys and friendly Cheer. Dryd. Virg.
Thou Son of Semele,

The Joy of Man, and Pleasure of the Gods. Broome.
O thou, whofe Bounty makes our Fields abound
For thee the Seafons fmile, our teeming Ground
And foamy Veffels with thy Gifts are crown'd.
Great Liber come, and lay thy Buskins by,

}

With me thy Thighs in bleeding Clusters die. Laud. Virg. In jolly Hymns they praise the God of Wine,

Whofe earthen Images adorn the Pine,

And there are hung on high, in Honour of the Vine.
A Madness fo devout the Vineyard fills,

In hollow Valleys, and on rifing Hills:

On whate'er Side he turns his honeft Face,

And dances in the Wind, thofe Fields are in his Grace.
To Bacchus therefore let us tune our Lays,
And in our Mother Tongue refound his Praife:
Thin Cakes in Chargers, and a guilty Goat,
Dragg'd by the Horns, be to his Altar brought;
Whofe offer'd Entrails fhall his Crime reproach,

And drip their Fatnefs from the Hazel Broach. Dryd. Virg.
'Twas Bacchus firft who prun'd the climbing Vine,
And taught the Grape to ftream with gen'rous Wine. Gay.
The God we now behold with open'd Eyes,
A Herd of Lynx and Panthers round him lies,
In glaring Forms: The grapy Clufters fpread
Around his Brows, and dangle on his Head.

Add. Ovid.

Thro' proftrate Greece young Bacchus rode,

And howling Matrons folemniz'd the God:
All Ranks and Sexes to his Orgies ran,

To fill the Pomps, and mingle in the Train. Add. Ovid.
Fierce Tigers Daphnis taught the Yoke to bear;

And first with curling Ivy dress'd the Spear :

Daph

Daphnis did Rites to Bacchus firft ordain;
And holy Revels for his reeling Train. Dryd. Virg.

BALM-TREE.

Balm flowly trickles thro' the bleeding Veins
Of happy Shrubs, in Idumæan Plains. Dryd. Virg.
The foft Idume weeps her od'rous Tears.

Such Nature in that gen'rous Plant is found,
Whofe ev'ry Breach does with a Salve abound;
And wounds it felf to cure another's Wound:
Glad with Expence of Blood to ferve their Use;
In Pity to Mankind it fheds its Juice:

Firft, with kind Tears our Maladies bewails,
And after heals:

Dryd. Virg.

And makes thofe very Tears the Remedy produce. Oldh. So fov'raign are thofe Drops, the Balm-Tree fweats. Dryd. Riv. Lad.

BARBICA N Play-Houfe..

Clofe to the Walls, which fair Augufta bind,
The fair Augufta, much to Fears inclin'd,
An ancient Fabrick, rais'd t'inform the Sight,
There ftood of Yore, and Barbican it hight:
A Watch-Tow'r once; but now, fo Fare ordains,
Of all the Pile an empty Name remains.
From its old Ruins Brothel-Houfes rife,
Scenes of lewd Loves, and of polluted Joys:
Where their vaft Courts the Mother-Strumpets keep,
And, undisturb'd by Watch, in Silence fleep.

Near thefe, a Nurfery erects its Head,

Where Queens are form'd, and future Heroes bred;
Where unfledg'd Actors learn to laugh and cry,
Where Infant Punks their tender Voices try.
And little Maximins the Gods defy.
Great Fletcher never treads in Buskins here,
Nor greater Johnfon dares in Socks appear:
But gentle Simkin juft Reception finds
Amidit this Monument of vanifh'd Minds:
Pure Clinches the Suburbian Mufe affords,

(Flec.

And Panton, waging harmless War with Words. Dryd.Mac.

BAR

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