She kindles not with Anger or Revenge;
Love was th'informing active Fire within,
Now that is quench'd the Mafs forgets to move,
And longs to mingle with its Kindred Earth.
For cold Defpair begins to freeze my Bofom,
And all my Pow'rs are now refolv'd on Death.
There's nothing in this World can make me Joy:
Life is as tedious as a twice-told Tale,
Vexing the dull Ear of a drowsy Man.
Oh I have Caufe to curfe my Life, my Being;
To curfe each Morn, each chearful Morn that dawns
With healing Comfort, on its balmy Wings,
To ev'ry wretched Creature but my felf;
To me it brings more Pain and iterated Woes.
My Life's a Load, encumber'd with the Charge,
I long to fet th'imprifon'd Soul at large.
For I, the most forlorn of human kind,
Nor Help can hope, nor Remedy can find ;
But doom'd to drag my loathful Life in Care,
For my Reward muft end it in Defpair.
Fire, Water, Air, and Earth, and Force of Fates,
That governs all, and Heav'n that all creates ;
Nor Art, ner Nature's Hand, can eafe my Grief:
Nothing but Death, the Wretches laft Relief.
Then farewel Youth, and all the Joys that dwell
With Youth and Life; and Life it felf farewel.
Olivia here in Solitude he found,
Her down-caft Eyes fixt on the filent Ground;
Her Drefs neglected, and unbound her Hair,
She feem'd the mournful Image of Despair.
But furious Dido, with dark Thoughts involv'd,
Shook at the mighty Mifchief fhe refolv'd:
With livid Spots diftinguish'd was her Face;
Red were her rowling Eyes, and difcompos'd her Pace:
Ghaftly fhe gaz'd, with Pain fhe drew her Breath,
And Nature hiver'd at approaching Death.
Where hide me, and my Miferies together?
Oh Belvidera! I'm the wretched'ft Creature
E'er crawl'd on Earth. Now, if thou'ft Virtue, help me;
Take me into thy Arms, and fpeak the Words of Peace
To my divided Soul that wars within me,
And raises ev'ry Senfe to my Confufion.
By Heav'n, I'm tott'ring on the very Brink
Of Peace, and thou art all the Hold I've left:
Do thou at leaft, with charitable Goodness,
Affift me in the Pangs of my Afflictions,
Could't thou but think how I have spent the Night, Dark and alone, no Pillow to my Head,
Reft in my Eyes, nor Quiet in my Heart,
Thou would'ft not, Belvidera, fure thou would'st not
Talk to me thus; but like a pitying Angel,
Spreading thy Wings, come fettle on my Breaft,
And hatch warm Comforts there, e'er Sorrows freeze it.
Why then, poor Mourner, in what baleful Corner
Haft thou been talking with that Witch, the Night?
On what cold Stone haft thou been ftretch'd along,
Gathering the grumbling Winds about thy Head,
To mix with theirs the Accents of thy Woes? Otw. Ven. Pref.
Let us embrace, and from this very Moment,
Vow an eternal Mifery together.
And wilt thou be a very faithful Wretch?
Never grow fond of chearful Peace again?
Wilt thou with me ftudy to be unhappy,
And find out Ways how to increafe Afflictions?
We'll inftitute new Arts, unknown before,
To vary Plagues, and make 'em look like new ones.
Then let's together,
Full of our Guilt diftracted where to roam,
Like the firft wretched Pair, expel'd their Paradife:
Let's find fome Place where Adders neft in Winter,
Loathfom and venemous; where Poisons hang,
Like Gums against the Walls: Where Witches meet
By Night, and feed upon fome pamper'd Imp,
Fat with the Blood of Babes: There we'll inhabit,
And live up to the Height of Defperation:
Defire fhall languish, like a with'ring Flow'r;
And no Distinction of the Sex be thought of:
Horrors fhall fright me from thofe pleafing Harms,
And I'll no more be caught with Beauty's Charms;
But when I'm dying, take me in thy Arms.
All Hope of Succour but from thee is paft.
As when upon the Sands the Traveller
Sees the high Sea come rouling from afar,
The Land grow fhort, he mends his weary Pace,
While Death behind him covers all the Place:
So I by fwift Misfortunes am purfu'd,
Which on each other are like Waves renew'd. Dryd. Ind. Emp.
Devotion! that oft binds th'Almighty's Arms,
And with her Pray'rs and Tears, her pow'rful Charms,
Of all its Thunder his right Hand difarms.
She paffes quick Heav'n's lofty crystal Walls,
And the high Gates fly open when the calls;
Her Pow'r can fentenc'd Criminals reprieve,.
Judgment arreft, and bid the Rebel live.
Her Voice did once the Sun's fwift Chariot ftay,
And on the Verge of Heav'n, held back the falling Day.
She makes contentious Winds forget their Strife,
And calls back to the Dead departed Life.
Charm'd by her Voice, Rivers have ftop'd their Course,
And the chill'd Fire laid down its burning Force.
Devotion in Distress
Is born, but vanishes in Happiness.
Such on Eurota's Banks, or Cynthus Height, Diana feems, and fo fhe charms the Sight, When in the Dance the graceful Goddess leads
The Quire of Nymphs, and over-tops their Heads.
Known by her Quiver and her lofty Mien,
She walks majeftick, and fhe looks their Queen:
Latona fees her fhine above the reft,
And feeds with fecret Joy her filent Breaft.
Diana thus on Cynthus fhady Top,
Or by Eurata's Stream, leads to the Chace
Her Virgin Train: A.Thoufand lovely Nymphs,
Of Form celeftial all, troop by her Side;
Amidst a Thousand Nymphs the Goddefs ftands confest,
In Beauty, Majefty, and Port Divine,
The graceful Goddefs was array'd in Green; About her Feet were little Beagles feen,
That watch'd with upward Eyes, the Motions of the Queen. Her Legs were buskin'd, and the Left before,
In act to fhoot: A filver Bow she bore,
And at her Back a painted Quiver wore.
She trod a wexing Moon, that foon would wane,
And drinking borrow'd Light, be fill'd again.
With down-caft Eyes, as feeming to furvey
The dark Dominions, her alternate Sway.
O Goddess, Haunter of the Wood-land Green,
To whom both Heav'n, and Earth, and Seas are feen;
Queen of the nether Skies, where half the Year
Thy filver Beams defcend, and light the gloomy Sphere;
Goddefs of Maids, and confcious of our Hearts:
Thy Vot'refs from my tender Years, I am,
And love, like thee, the Woods and Sylvan Game.
Thou, Goddefs, by thy triple Shape art feen
In Heav'n,Earth,Hell, and ev'ry where a Queen. Dryd.Pal.& Arc
DISCORD.
Far on th'Infernal Frontiers, near the Shore
On which th'infulting Waves of Chaos roar;
There ftands a high and craggy Cliff, that braves
The neighb'ring Tempefts, and tumultuous Waves.
On this sharp Rock does the dire Fiend remain,
Bound with a vaft, unwieldy, brazen Chain.
Her hideous Yells the gloomy Deep affright,
And interrupt the Peace of lonesome Night.
A Thousand horrid Mouths the Monfter fhow'd,
And each had Twenty Tongues, all fierce and loud:
Her bloody Jaws did her lean Limbs devour,
And from her Wounds fhe drank the flowing Gore.
With her fharp Claws fhe did her Entrails tear,
And from her Head pull'd off her fnaky Hair.
The Breath fhe belch'd did with a fearful Sound
Make Storms and Whirlwinds in the Air around.
Her glaring, fierce, mifplac'd, diftorted Eyes,
Like adverfe Meteors flaming in the Skies,
Their fiery Orbs against each other turn'd,
Tremendous in their bloody Circles burn'd.
Round her foul Waste a Thousand Monsters rag'd,
A dreadful Sight! in endless Strife engag'd.
These all each other and their Parent tear,
And rend her Bowels with eternal War.
Raving and restless on the Rock fhe turn'd,
And with her Feet her maffy Fetters fpurn'd.
Discord ever haunts with hideous Mien,
Thofe dire Abodes where Hymen once has been.
DISDAIN. See Scorn.
Difdainfully the look'd, then turning round,
She fix'd her Eyes unmov'd upon the Ground;
And what he fays and fwears regards no more
Than the deaf Rocks when the loud Billows roar :
But whirl'd away to fhun his hateful Sight.
Difdain and Scorn ride sparkling in her Eyes,
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Defpifing what they look on, Shak. Much ado about Nothing. Difdain has fwell'd him up, and choak'd his Breath,
Sullen and dumb, and obftinate to Death :
No Signs of Pity in his Face appear:
Cramm'd with his Pride, he leaves no Room within,
For Sighs to iffue out, or Love to enter in.
Still to weep and ftill complain,
Does but more provoke Difdain.
Difdain and Lové fucceed by Turns,
One freezes me, and t'other burns.
Away, fond Love, thou Foe to Reft!
Give Hate the full Poffeffion of my Breaft.
Hate is the nobler Paffion far,
When Love is ill repaid;
For at one Blow it ends the War,
And cures the Love-fick Maid. Dryd. Alb. & Alban,
DISEASES. See Infirmary.
Nigh the Recefs of Chaos and dull Night,
Where Death maintains his dread tyrannick Sway,
In the close Covert of a Cypress Grove,
Where Goblins frisk, and airy Spe&res rove;
Yawns a dark Cave moft formidably wide,
And there the Monarch's Triumphs are defcry'd.
Confus'd and wildly huddled to the Eye,
The Beggar's Pouch, and Prince's Purple lye:
Dim Lamps with fickly Rays fcarce feem to glow,
Sighs heave in mournful Moans, and Tears o'er-flow.
Old mould'ring Urns, pale Fear, and dark Diftrefs
Make up the frightful Horrour of the Place.
Within its dreadful Jaws thofe Furies wait,
Which execute the harfh Decrees of Fate.
Febris is firft; the Hag relentless hears
The Virgin's Sighs, and fees the Infant's Tears.
In her parch'd Eye-balls fiery Meteors reign,
And reftlefs Ferments revel in each Vein.
Then Hydrops next appears amongst the Throng,
Bloated and big, fhe flowly fails along:
But, like a Mifer, in Excefs fhe's poor,
And pines for Thirst amidst her wat❜ry Store.
Now loathfom Lepra, that offenfive Spright,
With foul Eruptions ftain'd, offends the Sight:
She's deaf to Beauty's foft perfwading Pow'r,
Nor can bright Hebe's Charms her Bloom fecure.
Whilft meagre Phthifis gives a filent Blow,
Her Strokes are fure, but her Advances flow:
No loud Alarms, nor fierce Affaults are fhewn;
She farves the Fortress first, then takes the Town.
Behind ftood Crowds of more inferiour Fame,
Too num'rous to repeat, too foul to name;
The Vaffals of their Monarch's Tyranny,
Who, at his Nod, on fatal Errands fly.
When raging Fevers boil the Blood,
The ftanding Lake foon floats into a Flood:
And ev'ry hoftile Humour, which before
Slept quiet in its Channel, bubbles o'er. Dryd. Abs. & Achit.
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