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A B B O T.
With daily Pray’rs and nightly Watchings faint:
Absence is Hell, whence all true Joys are driven;
Love reckons Hours for Months, and Days for Years, And ev'ry little Absence is an Age. Dryd. Amphit.
The tedious Hours move heavily away, And each long Minute seems a lazy Day. Ot. Cai. Mar.
For thee the bubling Springs appear'd to mourn, And whisp’ring Pines made Vows for thy Return.
(Dryd. Virg. When thy lov'd Sight shall bless my Eyes again, Then will I own I ought not to complain, Since that sweet Hour is worth whole Years of Pain.
(Rowe's Tamerl. I charge thee, loiter not, but hafte to bless me ; Think with what eager Hopes, what Rage I burn, For ev'ry tedious Minare how I mourn: Think how I call the cruel for thy Stay, And break my Heart with Grief for thy unkind Delay.
(Rowe's Ulys: Fly swift, ye Hours, you measure Time for me in 'Till you bring back Leonidas again :
(vain, Be Swifter now, and to redeem that Wrong, When he and I are met, be twice as long.
(Dryd. Mar. A-la-mode. While in divine Panthea's charming Eyes I view the naked Boy that basking lies I grow a God ! so bleft, so blest am I, With sacred Rapture and immortal Joy !
But, absent, if she shines no more,
The Gods themselves cannot be more ! Roch.
Should happy be, and have immortal Bliss :
Without fell Rancour, or fond Jealousie ;
Each Bird his Mate ; ne any docs envie
There is continual Spring, and Harvest there Continual, both meeting at one Time :
For both the Boughes do laughing Blossoms beare, And with fresh Colours deck the wanton Prime, And eke at once the heavy. Trees they climb,
Which seem to labour under their Fruites Lode ;
Emongst the Aady Leaves, their sweet Abode,
Right in the middest of that Paradife,
A gloomy Grove of Myrtle-Trees did rise,
But, like a Girlond, compassed the Hight, And from their fruitfull Sides sweet Gumes did drop,
That all the Ground with pretious Dew bedight, Threw forth most dainty Odours, and most fweet
(Delight, And, in the thickest Covert in that Shade, There was a pleasant Arbour, not by Art,
But of the Trees own Inclination made,
And Eglantine and Caprisfole emong, Fashion'd above within their inmoft Part, (throng,
That neither Phæbus Beames could through them Nor Æolus Tharp Blaft could work them any wrong.
And all about grew every Sort of Flowre,
Fresh Hyacinthus, Phabus Paramoure,
Sad Amaranthis, 'made a Flowre but late ;
Mesecmes I fee Amintas wretched Fate,
[Spen. Fairy by
Briarins calld in Heav'n, but mortal Men below By his terreftial Name Ægeon know. Dryd. Hom.
ÆO L U S.
Sends forth the Winds out of his hidden Treasure,
From all four Parts of Heaven do rage full sore,
And all the World confound with wide U prore,
[Spen. Fairy Que.
The God, who does in Caves constrain the Winds, Can with a Breath their clam'rous Rage appease ; They fear his Whistle, and forsake the Seas.
Yet once indulg'd, they sweep the Main," Deaf to the Call, or hearing hear in vain. They, bent on Mischief, bear the Waves before, And not content with Seas, insult the Shore ; When Ocean, Air, and Earth at once ingage, And rooted Forests Ay before their Rage : At once the clashing Clouds to Battel move, And Lightnings run across the fields above. In Times of Tempest they command alone, And he but fits precarious on the Throne. Dryd. Ovidi
Æolus, to whom the King of Heav'n The Pow'r of Tempests, and of Winds has giv'n: Whose Force alone their Fury can restrain, And smooth the Waves, or swell the troubled Main.
The Jailor of the Wind, Whose hoarse Commands his breathing Subjects. call; He boasts and blusters in his empty Hall, Dryd. Virg.
ÆT N A. Mount Ætna thence we spy, Known by the smoaky Flames which cloud the Sky: By Turns a pitchy Cloud The rowls on high ; By Turns hot Embers from her Entrails fly, And Flakes of mounting Flames that lick the Sky. Oft from her Bowels mally Rocks are thrown, And, thiver'd by the Force, come piece-meal down. Oft liquid Lakes of burning Sulphur flow, Fed from the fiery Springs that boil below. Enceladus, they say, transfix'd by Fore, With blafted Wings came tumbling from above; And where he fell, th’avenging Father drew This faming Hill, and on his Body threw : As often as he turns his weary Sides, He shakes the solid Ine, and Smoke the Heav'n hides.