Look where the pully 's tied above!

Great God! (faid I) what have I feen!

On what poor engines move

The thoughts of monarchs, and defigns of states!
What petty motives rule their fates!

How the mouse makes the mighty mountain shake !
The mighty mountain labours with its birth,
Away the frighten'd peasants fly,

Scar'd at th' unheard-of prodigy,
Expect fome great gigantic fon of earth;
Lo! it appears!

See how they tremble! how they quake!

Out starts the little beaft, and mocks their idle fears.

VIII.

Then tell, dear favourite Muse!

What ferpent's that which still resorts,

Still lurks in palaces and courts?

Take thy unwonted flight,

And on the terrace light.

See where the lies!

See how the rears her head,

And rolls about her dreadful eyes,

To drive all virtue out, or look it dead!
'Twas fure this bafilifk fent Temple thence,
And though as some ('tis faid) for their defence
Have worn a casement o'er their skin,

Made

So he wore his within,

up of virtue and transparent innocence;
And though he oft' renew'd the fight,

And almost got priority of fight,

He ne'er could overcome her quite

(In pieces cut, the viper ftill did re-unite),

Till, at last, tir'd with loss of time and ease, Refolv'd to give himfelf, as well as country, peace.

IX.

Sing, belov'd Mufe! the pleasures of retreat,
And in fome untouch'd virgin strain

Shew the delights thy fifter Nature yields;

Sing of thy vales, fing of thy woods, fing of thy fields; Go publish o'er the plain

How mighty a profelyte you gain !
How noble a reprisal on the great

How is the Mufe luxuriant grown!
Whene'er he takes this flight,
She foars clear out of fight.
These are the paradifes of her own:
(The Pegafus, like an unruly horfe,
Though ne'er fo gently led

To the lov'd pasture where he us'd to feed,
Runs violently o'er his usual course.)
Wake from thy wanton dreams,
Come from thy dear-lov'd ftreams,
The crooked paths of wandering Thames I'
Fain the fair nymph would stay,

Oft' fhe looks back in vain,

Oft' 'gainst her fountain does complain,
And foftly steals in many windings down,
As loth to fee the hated court and town,
murmurs as the glides away.

And

More than your predecessor Adam knew;
Whatever moves our wonder, or our sport,
Whatever ferves for innocent emblems of the court;
How that which we a kernel fee

(Whofe well-compacted forms efcape the light,
Unpierc'd by the blunt rays of fight)
Shall ere long grow into a tree;

Whence takes it its increafe, and whence its birth,
Or from the fun, or from the air, or from the earth,
Where all the fruitful atoms lie;

How fome go downward to the root,
Some more ambitiously upwards fly,

And form the leaves, the branches, and the fruit.
You ftrove to cultivate a barren court in vain,
Your garden 's better worth your noble pain,
Here mankind fell, and hence muft rife again.
XI.

Shall I believe a spirit fo divine

Was caft in the fame mold with mine?

Why then does Nature so unjustly share

Among her elder fons the whole estate,

And all her jewels and her plate?

Poor we! cadets of Heaven, not worth her care,

Take up at beft with lumber and the leavings of a fare:

Some the binds 'prentice to the fpade,

Some to the drudgery of a trade,
B 4

Some

Some she does to Egyptian bondage draw,
Bids us make bricks, yet fends us to look out for straw:
Some the condemns for life to try

To dig the leaden mines of deep philofophy
Me fhe has to the Mufe's gallies tied,
In vain I strive to cross this spacious main,
In vain I tug and pull the oar,

And, when I almost reach the shore,

Straight the Mufe turns the helm, and I launch out again:
And yet, to feed my pride,`

Whene'er I mourn, ftops my complaining breath,
With promife of a mad reverfion after death.

XII.

Then, Sir, accept this worthless verse,

The tribute of an humble Mufe,

'Tis all the portion of my niggard stars ;

Nature the hidden spark did at my birth infuse,

And kindled firft with indolence and ease;

And, fince too oft' debauch'd by praife,

'Tis now grown an incurable difease :
In vain to quench this foolish fire I try
In wisdom and philofophy;

In vain all wholesome herbs I fow,
Where nought but weeds will grow.

Whate'er I plant (like corn on barren earth】
By an equivocal birth

Seeds, and runs up to poetry.

ODE

[9]

Ꭰ

E,

TO THE ATHENIAN SOCIETY.

As

Moor-Park, Feb. 14, 1691.

I.

S when the deluge first began to fall,

That mighty ebb never to flow again

(When this huge body's moisture was fo great,
It quite o'ercame the vital heat);

That mountain, which was highest first of all,
Appear'd above the univerfal main,

To bless the primitive failor's weary fight!
And 'twas perhaps Parnaffus, if in height
It be as great as 'tis in fame,

And nigh to Heaven as is its name:

So, after th' inundation of a war,

When Learning's little houfhold did embark

With her world's fruitful system in her facred ark,
At the first ebb of noife and fears,

Philofophy's exalted head appears;

And the Dove-Mufe will now no longer stay,
But plumes her filver wings, and flies away;

And now a laurel wreath fhe brings from far,
To crown the happy conqueror,

To fhew the flood begins to cease,

And brings the dear reward of victory and peace.

II. The