Poetry. Alexander Pope

her gesture proud, Her voice theatrically loud, And masculine her stride. 4 So have I seen, in black and white A prating thing, a magpie height, Majestically stalk; A stately, worthless animal, That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, All flutter, pride, and talk. PHRYNE. 1 Phryne had talents for mankind, Open she was, and unconfined, Like some free port of trade: Merchants unloaded here their freight, And agents from each foreign state Here first their entry made. 2 Her learning and good breeding such, Whether the Italian or the Dutch, Spaniards or French came to her: To all obliging she'd appear, 'Twas 'Si, Signor,' 'twas 'Yaw, Mynheer,' 'Twas 'S' il vous plaît, Monsieur.' 3 Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes, Still changing names, religions, climes, At length she turns a bride: In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades, She shines the first of batter'd jades, And flutters in her pride. 4 So have I known those insects fair, (Which curious Germans hold so rare) Still vary shapes and dyes; Still gain new titles with new forms; First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms, Then painted butterflies.

VII. DR SWIFT.

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      THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.

       Parson, these things in thy possessing

       Are better than the bishop's blessing:—

       A wife that makes conserves; a steed

       That carries double when there's need:

       October store, and best Virginia,

       Tithe-pig, and mortuary guinea:

       Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,

       For which thy patron's weekly thank'd:

       A large Concordance, bound long since:

       Sermons to Charles the First, when prince:

       A Chronicle of ancient standing;

       A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in:

       The Polyglot—three parts—my text,

       Howbeit—likewise—now to my next:

       Lo, here the Septuagint—and Paul,

       To sum the whole—the close of all.

       He that has these, may pass his life,

       Drink with the squire, and kiss his wife;

       On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;

       And fast on Fridays—if he will;

       Toast Church and Queen, explain the news,

       Talk with churchwardens about pews,

       Pray heartily for some new gift,

       And shake his head at Doctor S——t.

THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

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WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXI.

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ADVERTISEMENT.

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      The hint of the following piece was taken from Chaucer's 'House of Fame.' The design is in a manner entirely altered, the descriptions and most of the particular thoughts my own: yet I could not suffer it to be printed without this acknowledgment. The reader who would compare this with Chaucer, may begin with his third book of 'Fame,' there being nothing in the two first books that answers to their title. Wherever any hint is taken from him, the passage itself is set down in the marginal notes.

      In that soft season, when descending showers

       Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flowers;

       When opening buds salute the welcome day,

       And earth relenting feels the genial ray;

       As balmy sleep had charm'd my cares to rest,

       And love itself was banish'd from my breast,

       (What time the morn mysterious visions brings,

       While purer slumbers spread their golden wings),

       A train of phantoms in wild order rose,

       And, join'd, this intellectual scene compose. 10

       I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, and skies;

       The whole creation open to my eyes:

       In air self-balanced hung the globe below,

       Where mountains rise and circling oceans flow;

       Here naked rocks, and empty wastes were seen,

       There towery cities, and the forests green:

       Here sailing ships delight the wandering eyes:

       There trees, and intermingled temples rise;

       Now a clear sun the shining scene displays,

       The transient landscape now in clouds decays. 20

       O'er the wide prospect, as I gazed around,

       Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound,

       Like broken thunders that at distance roar,

       Or billows murmuring on the hollow shore:

       Then gazing up, a glorious pile beheld,

       Whose towering summit ambient clouds conceal'd.

       High on a rock of ice the structure lay,

       Steep its ascent, and slippery was the way;

       The wondrous rock like Parian marble shone,

       And seem'd, to distant sight, of solid stone. 30

       Inscriptions here of various names I view'd,

       The greater part by hostile time subdued;

       Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past,

       And poets once had promised they should last.

       Some fresh engraved appear'd of wits renown'd;

       I look'd again, nor could their trace be found.

       Critics I saw, that other names deface,

       And fix their own, with labour, in their place:

       Their own, like others, soon their place resign'd,

       Or disappear'd, and left the first behind. 40

       Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone,

       But felt the approaches of too warm a sun;

       For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays

       Not more by envy than excess of praise.

       Yet part no injuries of heaven could feel,

       Like crystal faithful to the graving steel:

       The rock's high summit, in the temple's shade,

       Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm invade.

       Their names inscribed unnumber'd ages past

       From time's first birth, with time itself shall last; 50

       These ever new, nor subject to decays,

       Spread, and grow brighter with the length of days.

       So Zembla's rocks (the beauteous work of frost)

       Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast;

       Pale suns, unfelt, at distance