GOLDEN AGE.

No wicked Iron Age, as yet controll'd, The Luftre of the pure primeval Gold : Around Heav'ns Azure Arch, ferenely bright, Unfullied fhone the sparkling Gems of Light : No Fogs did then, no lazy Vapours rise, Nor with their dull Pollution stain the Skies; Thro' Heav'ns bright Plains the glorious God of Day, Prince of the Stars, unclouded held his Way: While in her Turn the filver Queen of Night, Succeffive roll'd her limpid Orb of Light. The Mother Earth adorn'd by what the bred, With Rocks, Hills, Trees, with Fruits and Flow'rs (was fpread, And every living Thing on her green Bofom fed. The well-digefted Mafs untainted yet,

t

Did no rank Steams nor pois'nous Damp emit,
But healthy Spirits breathing from the Ground,
Diffus'd their wholfome Fragrancies around.
'Twas then, in thofe good Times for ever bleft,
That happy Man his Innocence poffefs'd:
When yet he had not learn'd in Reason's fright,
Perverse to turn, and wander from the right,
Forfaking Heavn's reveal'd,and Nature's inbornLight.
Then holy Arts and Prieftcraft were unknown,
Religion then was fimple, plain, and one.
Luft had not kindl'd then her guilty Flame,
Ambition had not cheated Fools with Fame,
Nor.vex'd th World with Honours angry Name.
Nor was the Form of Man beneath his Soul,
But equal proper Beauties grac'd the Whole.
Then Temperance, juft Goddess, did prevail,
And rightly held creating Nature's Scale,
Difpos'd the fev'ral Parts with prudent Care,
And form'd with niceft Symmetry the Fair.
Then was the Reign of Beauty in Mankind,
Then univerfal Emprefs, well the joyn'd (Call.
The faultlefs Body and the blamelefs Mind. Rowe's

}

GOLD

GOLD-SMITH.

As guileful Goldfmith, that by fecret fkill,
With golden foyle doth finely over-fpred

Some bafer Mettal, which commend he will
Unto the vulgar for good Gold infted,
He much more goodly gloffe thereon doth fhed,
To hide his falfhood, than if it were true.

GOOD HUMOUR.

Truft not too much your now refiftless Charms, Thofe, Age or Sicknefs, foon or late, difarms; Good Humour only teaches Charms to laft,

Spen.

Still makes new Conquefts, and maintains the past :
Love rais'd on Beauty will like that decay,
Our Hearts may bear its flender Chain a Day,
As flow'ry Bands in Wantonnefs are worn ;
A Morning's Pleasure, and at Evening torn:
This binds in Ties more eafy yet more ftrong
The willing Heart, and only holds it long. Pope's Misc.

GOUT.

Remember how once Bacchus, flufter'd, came, And, hot with Wine, compreft the Cyprian Dame; Folding the Goddess in his drunken Arms, Glowing he kifs'd, and rioted in Charms. The crude warm Seed thus immaturely wrought, A foul, obfcene, disfigur'd Daughter brought; The Gout her Name; of pale and fquallid Face; Limping the walk'd, and hobbled in her Pace. (Rowe's Call.

GRAIN.

So the Grain fcatter'd by the careless Clown, While frequent Show'rs the moiften'd Furrows drown, Will no Increase, no Golden Harvest yield,

To load the Barn, and beautify the Field. Rowe's Call.

GRASSHOPP er.

Happy Infect What can be

In Happiness compar'd with thee?

Fed

Fed with Nourishment divine,
The dewy Morning's gentle Winc.
Nature waits upon thee ftill,
And thy verdant Cup does fill:
All the Fields which thou doft fee,
All the Plants belong to thee,
All that Summer Hours produce,
Fertile made with early Juice.
Man for thee does fow and plough;
Farmer he, and Landlord thou.
Thee Country Hinds with Gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripen’d Year!
To thee, of all Things upon Earth,
Life is no longer than thy Mirth.
Happy Insect! happy thou,
Dost neither Age nor Winter know ;
But when thou'st drunk, and danc'd, and fung
Thy Fill, the flow'ry Leaves among,
Voluptuous, and Wise withal,
Epicurean Animal;
Sated with thy Summer's Feaft,
Thou retir'st to endless Reft.

Cowl.

GREATNESS.
Farewel, a long Farewel to all niy Greatnefs
This is the State of Man ; to Day he puts forth
The tender Leafs of Hopes; to morrow blofsonas,
And bears his blushing Honours thick upon

him:
The third Day comes a Frost, a killing Frost,
And when he thinks, good easy Man, full furely,
His Greatness is a rip’ning, nifs his Root,
And then he falls as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton Boys that swim on Bladders,
This many a Summer in a Sea of Glory,
But far beyond my Depth : My high blown Pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with Service, to the Mercy (Hen. 8.
Of a rnde Stream, that must for ever hide me. Shak.

I now begin to loath all human Greatness;
l'll fly all Courts, and Love shall be my Guide :
Love, that's more worth than all the World beside.
Princes are barr'd the Liberty to roam ;
The fetter'd Mind still languishes at Home;
In golden Bands the treads the thoughtful Round,
Bus'ness and Cares eternally abound;
And when for Air the Goddess would unbind,
She's clogg'd with Sceptres, and to Crowns confin'd.

For I disdain
All Pomp when thou art by : far be the Noise
Of Kings and Courts from us, whose gentle Souls
Our kinder Stars have steer'd another Way.
Free as the Forest Birds we'll pair together,
Without remembring who our Fathers were ;
Fly to the Arbours, Grots, and flow’ry Meads,
And in soft Murmurs interchange our Souls :
Together drink the Chrystal of the Stream,
Or taste the yellow Fruit which Autumn yields ;
And when the golden Evening calls us Home,
Wing to our downy Beds, and sleep'ijll Morn.

(Lee Thread. GRE E DI N E S S. That is the Gulfe of Greediness they say,

That deep engorgeth all this World's prey : Which having swallowed up exceffively,

He soon in vomit up again doth lay, And belcheth forth his superfiuitie, That all the Seas for fear doe seem away to fly. Spen..

GRI E F.
Next him went Griefe, and Fury match y fere ;
Griefe, all in fable forrow fully clad,

Down-hanging his dull head with heavy chere,
Yet inly being more then seemly fad :
A pair of pincers in his hand he had,

With which he pinced People to the heart,
That from thence forth a wretched Life chey had,

la

In wilful langour and confuming fmart,

Dying each day with inward wounds of dolours dart.

'Tis not alone my inky Cloak,
Nor customary Suits of folemn Black,
Nor windy Sufpiration of forc'd Breath,
No, nor the fruitful River in the Eye,

Together with all Forms, Moods, Shews of Grief,
That can denote me truly. The fe indeed feem,
For they are Actions that a Man might play;
But I have that within which paffes Show,
Thefe but the Trappings and the Suits of Woe.

(Spen.

(Shak. Haml.

Alas! I have no Words to tell my Grief; To vent my Sorrow would be fome Relief: Light Suff'rings give us Leifure to complain; We groan, but cannot speak in greater Pain.

(Dryd. Pal. & Arc.

Of Comfort no Man speak;

Let's talk of Graves, and Worms, and Epitaphs!
Make Duft our Paper, and with rainy Eyes,

Write Sorrow in the Bofom of the Earth, Shak. Rich. 2.
I have been in fuch a dismal Place,

Where Joy ne'er enters, which the Sun ne'er chears;
Bound in with Darknefs, over-fpread with Damps:
Where I have feen, (if I could fay I faw)
The good old King, Majeftick in his Bonds,
And midft his Griefs moft venerably great,
By a dim winking Lamp, which feebly broke
The gloomy Vapours: he lay ftretch'd along
Upon th' unwholfom Earth, his Eyes fix'd upward,

And ever and anon a filent Tear

Stole down, and trickled from his hoary Beard:
My Heart is wither'd at that piteous Sight,
As early Bloffoms are with Eastern Blasts:
He fent for me, and while I rais'd his Head,
He threw his aged Arms about my Neck;
And feeeing that I wept, he prefs'd me close :

So