Nor is this all which we thee grant;Rather than thou should’st full imployment want,We do permit inGreeceit self thy kingdom plant.RansackLycurgusstreets throughout,They’ve no defence of walls to keep thee out.On wanton and proudCorinthseise,Nor let her double waves thy flames appease.LetCyprusfeel more fires than those of Love,LetDeloswhich at first did give the Sun,See unknown Flames in her begun,Now let her wish she might unconstant proves,And from her place might truly move.LetLemnosall thy anger feel,And think that a newVulcanfell,And brought with him new Anvils, and new hell.Nay and atAthenstoo we give thee up,All that thou find’st in Field, or camp, or shop,Make havock there without controulOf every ignorant and common soul;But then kind Plague, thy conquests stop;Let Arts, and let the learned there escape,UponMinerva’sself commit no rape;Touch not the sacred throng,And letApollo’sPriests be like him young,Let him be healthful too, and strong.But ah! too ravenous plague, whilst IStrive to keep off the misery,The learned too as fast as others round me die;They from corruption are not free,Are mortal though they give an immortality.
Nor is this all which we thee grant;Rather than thou should’st full imployment want,We do permit inGreeceit self thy kingdom plant.RansackLycurgusstreets throughout,They’ve no defence of walls to keep thee out.On wanton and proudCorinthseise,Nor let her double waves thy flames appease.LetCyprusfeel more fires than those of Love,LetDeloswhich at first did give the Sun,See unknown Flames in her begun,Now let her wish she might unconstant proves,And from her place might truly move.LetLemnosall thy anger feel,And think that a newVulcanfell,And brought with him new Anvils, and new hell.Nay and atAthenstoo we give thee up,All that thou find’st in Field, or camp, or shop,Make havock there without controulOf every ignorant and common soul;But then kind Plague, thy conquests stop;Let Arts, and let the learned there escape,UponMinerva’sself commit no rape;Touch not the sacred throng,And letApollo’sPriests be like him young,Let him be healthful too, and strong.But ah! too ravenous plague, whilst IStrive to keep off the misery,The learned too as fast as others round me die;They from corruption are not free,Are mortal though they give an immortality.
Nor is this all which we thee grant;Rather than thou should’st full imployment want,We do permit inGreeceit self thy kingdom plant.RansackLycurgusstreets throughout,They’ve no defence of walls to keep thee out.On wanton and proudCorinthseise,Nor let her double waves thy flames appease.LetCyprusfeel more fires than those of Love,LetDeloswhich at first did give the Sun,See unknown Flames in her begun,Now let her wish she might unconstant proves,And from her place might truly move.LetLemnosall thy anger feel,And think that a newVulcanfell,And brought with him new Anvils, and new hell.Nay and atAthenstoo we give thee up,All that thou find’st in Field, or camp, or shop,Make havock there without controulOf every ignorant and common soul;But then kind Plague, thy conquests stop;Let Arts, and let the learned there escape,UponMinerva’sself commit no rape;Touch not the sacred throng,And letApollo’sPriests be like him young,Let him be healthful too, and strong.But ah! too ravenous plague, whilst IStrive to keep off the misery,The learned too as fast as others round me die;They from corruption are not free,Are mortal though they give an immortality.
Nor is this all which we thee grant;
Rather than thou should’st full imployment want,
We do permit inGreeceit self thy kingdom plant.
RansackLycurgusstreets throughout,
They’ve no defence of walls to keep thee out.
On wanton and proudCorinthseise,
Nor let her double waves thy flames appease.
LetCyprusfeel more fires than those of Love,
LetDeloswhich at first did give the Sun,
See unknown Flames in her begun,
Now let her wish she might unconstant proves,
And from her place might truly move.
LetLemnosall thy anger feel,
And think that a newVulcanfell,
And brought with him new Anvils, and new hell.
Nay and atAthenstoo we give thee up,
All that thou find’st in Field, or camp, or shop,
Make havock there without controul
Of every ignorant and common soul;
But then kind Plague, thy conquests stop;
Let Arts, and let the learned there escape,
UponMinerva’sself commit no rape;
Touch not the sacred throng,
And letApollo’sPriests be like him young,
Let him be healthful too, and strong.
But ah! too ravenous plague, whilst I
Strive to keep off the misery,
The learned too as fast as others round me die;
They from corruption are not free,
Are mortal though they give an immortality.
XXVII.
They turn’d their Authors o’re, to try,What help, what cure, what remedyAll Natures stores against this Plague supply,And though besides they shunn’d it every where,They search’d it in their books, and fain would meet it there.They turn’d the Records of the antient times,And chiefly those that were made famous by their crimes;To find if men were punish’d so before,But found not the Disease nor cure.Nature alas! was now surpriz’d,And all her Forces seiz’d,Before she was how to resist advis’d:So when the Elephants did first affrightTheRomanswith unusual fight,They many battels lose,Before they knew their foes,Before they understood such dreadful troops t’oppose.
They turn’d their Authors o’re, to try,What help, what cure, what remedyAll Natures stores against this Plague supply,And though besides they shunn’d it every where,They search’d it in their books, and fain would meet it there.They turn’d the Records of the antient times,And chiefly those that were made famous by their crimes;To find if men were punish’d so before,But found not the Disease nor cure.Nature alas! was now surpriz’d,And all her Forces seiz’d,Before she was how to resist advis’d:So when the Elephants did first affrightTheRomanswith unusual fight,They many battels lose,Before they knew their foes,Before they understood such dreadful troops t’oppose.
They turn’d their Authors o’re, to try,What help, what cure, what remedyAll Natures stores against this Plague supply,And though besides they shunn’d it every where,They search’d it in their books, and fain would meet it there.They turn’d the Records of the antient times,And chiefly those that were made famous by their crimes;To find if men were punish’d so before,But found not the Disease nor cure.Nature alas! was now surpriz’d,And all her Forces seiz’d,Before she was how to resist advis’d:So when the Elephants did first affrightTheRomanswith unusual fight,They many battels lose,Before they knew their foes,Before they understood such dreadful troops t’oppose.
They turn’d their Authors o’re, to try,
What help, what cure, what remedy
All Natures stores against this Plague supply,
And though besides they shunn’d it every where,
They search’d it in their books, and fain would meet it there.
They turn’d the Records of the antient times,
And chiefly those that were made famous by their crimes;
To find if men were punish’d so before,
But found not the Disease nor cure.
Nature alas! was now surpriz’d,
And all her Forces seiz’d,
Before she was how to resist advis’d:
So when the Elephants did first affright
TheRomanswith unusual fight,
They many battels lose,
Before they knew their foes,
Before they understood such dreadful troops t’oppose.
XXVIII.
Now ev’ry different Sect agreesAgainst their common adversary the disease,And all their little wranglings cease;ThePythagoreansfrom their precepts swerve,No more their silence they observe,Out of their Schools they run,Lament, and cry, and groan;They now desir’d their Metempsychosis;Not onely do dispute, but wishThat they might turn to beasts, or fowls, or fish.If thePlatonickshad been here,They would have curs’d their Masters year,When all things shall be as they were,When they again the same disease should bear:And all Philosophers would now,What the greatStagyriteshall do,Themselves into the waters head-long throw.
Now ev’ry different Sect agreesAgainst their common adversary the disease,And all their little wranglings cease;ThePythagoreansfrom their precepts swerve,No more their silence they observe,Out of their Schools they run,Lament, and cry, and groan;They now desir’d their Metempsychosis;Not onely do dispute, but wishThat they might turn to beasts, or fowls, or fish.If thePlatonickshad been here,They would have curs’d their Masters year,When all things shall be as they were,When they again the same disease should bear:And all Philosophers would now,What the greatStagyriteshall do,Themselves into the waters head-long throw.
Now ev’ry different Sect agreesAgainst their common adversary the disease,And all their little wranglings cease;ThePythagoreansfrom their precepts swerve,No more their silence they observe,Out of their Schools they run,Lament, and cry, and groan;They now desir’d their Metempsychosis;Not onely do dispute, but wishThat they might turn to beasts, or fowls, or fish.If thePlatonickshad been here,They would have curs’d their Masters year,When all things shall be as they were,When they again the same disease should bear:And all Philosophers would now,What the greatStagyriteshall do,Themselves into the waters head-long throw.
Now ev’ry different Sect agrees
Against their common adversary the disease,
And all their little wranglings cease;
ThePythagoreansfrom their precepts swerve,
No more their silence they observe,
Out of their Schools they run,
Lament, and cry, and groan;
They now desir’d their Metempsychosis;
Not onely do dispute, but wish
That they might turn to beasts, or fowls, or fish.
If thePlatonickshad been here,
They would have curs’d their Masters year,
When all things shall be as they were,
When they again the same disease should bear:
And all Philosophers would now,
What the greatStagyriteshall do,
Themselves into the waters head-long throw.
XXIX.
TheStoickfelt the deadly stroke,At first assault their courage was not broke,They call’d to all the Cobweb aid,Of rules and precepts, which in store they had,They bid their hearts stand out,Bid them be calm and stout;But all the strength of precepts will not do’t.They cannot the storms of passions now asswage,As common men are angry, grieve, and rage.The Gods are called upon in vain,The Gods gave no release unto their pain,The Gods to fear even for themselves began.For now the sick unto the Temples came,And brought more than a holy flame,There at the Altars made their prayer,They sacrific’d and died there,A sacrifice not seen before;That Heaven, onely us’d unto the goreOf Lambs or Bulls, should nowLoaded with Priests see its own Altars too.
TheStoickfelt the deadly stroke,At first assault their courage was not broke,They call’d to all the Cobweb aid,Of rules and precepts, which in store they had,They bid their hearts stand out,Bid them be calm and stout;But all the strength of precepts will not do’t.They cannot the storms of passions now asswage,As common men are angry, grieve, and rage.The Gods are called upon in vain,The Gods gave no release unto their pain,The Gods to fear even for themselves began.For now the sick unto the Temples came,And brought more than a holy flame,There at the Altars made their prayer,They sacrific’d and died there,A sacrifice not seen before;That Heaven, onely us’d unto the goreOf Lambs or Bulls, should nowLoaded with Priests see its own Altars too.
TheStoickfelt the deadly stroke,At first assault their courage was not broke,They call’d to all the Cobweb aid,Of rules and precepts, which in store they had,They bid their hearts stand out,Bid them be calm and stout;But all the strength of precepts will not do’t.They cannot the storms of passions now asswage,As common men are angry, grieve, and rage.The Gods are called upon in vain,The Gods gave no release unto their pain,The Gods to fear even for themselves began.For now the sick unto the Temples came,And brought more than a holy flame,There at the Altars made their prayer,They sacrific’d and died there,A sacrifice not seen before;That Heaven, onely us’d unto the goreOf Lambs or Bulls, should nowLoaded with Priests see its own Altars too.
TheStoickfelt the deadly stroke,
At first assault their courage was not broke,
They call’d to all the Cobweb aid,
Of rules and precepts, which in store they had,
They bid their hearts stand out,
Bid them be calm and stout;
But all the strength of precepts will not do’t.
They cannot the storms of passions now asswage,
As common men are angry, grieve, and rage.
The Gods are called upon in vain,
The Gods gave no release unto their pain,
The Gods to fear even for themselves began.
For now the sick unto the Temples came,
And brought more than a holy flame,
There at the Altars made their prayer,
They sacrific’d and died there,
A sacrifice not seen before;
That Heaven, onely us’d unto the gore
Of Lambs or Bulls, should now
Loaded with Priests see its own Altars too.
XXX.
The woods gave fun’ral piles no more,The dead the very fire devour,And that almighty Conqueror over-power.The noble and the common dustInto each others graves are thrust,No place is sacred, and no tomb,’Tis now a priviledge to consume;Their ashes no distinction had;Too truly all by death are equal made.The Ghosts of those great Heroes that had fledFromAthenslong since banished,Now o’re the City hovered;Their anger yielded to their love,They left th’ immortal joyes above;So much theirAthensdanger did them move,They came to pity and to aid,But now alas! were quite dismay’d,When they beheld the marbles open lay’d,And poor mens bones the noble Urns invade:Back to the blessed seats they went,And now did thank their banishment,By which they were to die in forreign Countries sent.
The woods gave fun’ral piles no more,The dead the very fire devour,And that almighty Conqueror over-power.The noble and the common dustInto each others graves are thrust,No place is sacred, and no tomb,’Tis now a priviledge to consume;Their ashes no distinction had;Too truly all by death are equal made.The Ghosts of those great Heroes that had fledFromAthenslong since banished,Now o’re the City hovered;Their anger yielded to their love,They left th’ immortal joyes above;So much theirAthensdanger did them move,They came to pity and to aid,But now alas! were quite dismay’d,When they beheld the marbles open lay’d,And poor mens bones the noble Urns invade:Back to the blessed seats they went,And now did thank their banishment,By which they were to die in forreign Countries sent.
The woods gave fun’ral piles no more,The dead the very fire devour,And that almighty Conqueror over-power.The noble and the common dustInto each others graves are thrust,No place is sacred, and no tomb,’Tis now a priviledge to consume;Their ashes no distinction had;Too truly all by death are equal made.The Ghosts of those great Heroes that had fledFromAthenslong since banished,Now o’re the City hovered;Their anger yielded to their love,They left th’ immortal joyes above;So much theirAthensdanger did them move,They came to pity and to aid,But now alas! were quite dismay’d,When they beheld the marbles open lay’d,And poor mens bones the noble Urns invade:Back to the blessed seats they went,And now did thank their banishment,By which they were to die in forreign Countries sent.
The woods gave fun’ral piles no more,
The dead the very fire devour,
And that almighty Conqueror over-power.
The noble and the common dust
Into each others graves are thrust,
No place is sacred, and no tomb,
’Tis now a priviledge to consume;
Their ashes no distinction had;
Too truly all by death are equal made.
The Ghosts of those great Heroes that had fled
FromAthenslong since banished,
Now o’re the City hovered;
Their anger yielded to their love,
They left th’ immortal joyes above;
So much theirAthensdanger did them move,
They came to pity and to aid,
But now alas! were quite dismay’d,
When they beheld the marbles open lay’d,
And poor mens bones the noble Urns invade:
Back to the blessed seats they went,
And now did thank their banishment,
By which they were to die in forreign Countries sent.
XXXI.
But what, Great Gods! was worst of all,Hell forth its magazines of Lusts did call,Nor would it be contentWith the thick troops of souls were thither sent;Into the upper world it went,Such guilt, such wickedness,Such irreligion did increase,That the few good who did survive,Were angry with the Plague for suffring them to live,More for the living than the dead did grieve:Some robb’d the very dead,Though sure to be infected ere they fled,Though in the very Air sure to be punished.Some nor the shrines nor temples spar’d,Nor Gods, nor Heavens fear’d,Though such examples of their power appear’d.Vertue was now esteem’d an empty name,And honesty the foolish voice of fame;For having pass’d those tort’ring flames before,They thought the punishment already o’re,Thought Heaven no worse torments had in store,Here having felt one Hell, they thought there was no more.
But what, Great Gods! was worst of all,Hell forth its magazines of Lusts did call,Nor would it be contentWith the thick troops of souls were thither sent;Into the upper world it went,Such guilt, such wickedness,Such irreligion did increase,That the few good who did survive,Were angry with the Plague for suffring them to live,More for the living than the dead did grieve:Some robb’d the very dead,Though sure to be infected ere they fled,Though in the very Air sure to be punished.Some nor the shrines nor temples spar’d,Nor Gods, nor Heavens fear’d,Though such examples of their power appear’d.Vertue was now esteem’d an empty name,And honesty the foolish voice of fame;For having pass’d those tort’ring flames before,They thought the punishment already o’re,Thought Heaven no worse torments had in store,Here having felt one Hell, they thought there was no more.
But what, Great Gods! was worst of all,Hell forth its magazines of Lusts did call,Nor would it be contentWith the thick troops of souls were thither sent;Into the upper world it went,Such guilt, such wickedness,Such irreligion did increase,That the few good who did survive,Were angry with the Plague for suffring them to live,More for the living than the dead did grieve:Some robb’d the very dead,Though sure to be infected ere they fled,Though in the very Air sure to be punished.Some nor the shrines nor temples spar’d,Nor Gods, nor Heavens fear’d,Though such examples of their power appear’d.Vertue was now esteem’d an empty name,And honesty the foolish voice of fame;For having pass’d those tort’ring flames before,They thought the punishment already o’re,Thought Heaven no worse torments had in store,Here having felt one Hell, they thought there was no more.
But what, Great Gods! was worst of all,
Hell forth its magazines of Lusts did call,
Nor would it be content
With the thick troops of souls were thither sent;
Into the upper world it went,
Such guilt, such wickedness,
Such irreligion did increase,
That the few good who did survive,
Were angry with the Plague for suffring them to live,
More for the living than the dead did grieve:
Some robb’d the very dead,
Though sure to be infected ere they fled,
Though in the very Air sure to be punished.
Some nor the shrines nor temples spar’d,
Nor Gods, nor Heavens fear’d,
Though such examples of their power appear’d.
Vertue was now esteem’d an empty name,
And honesty the foolish voice of fame;
For having pass’d those tort’ring flames before,
They thought the punishment already o’re,
Thought Heaven no worse torments had in store,
Here having felt one Hell, they thought there was no more.
FINIS.