Miscellany Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Water , thou mighty Universal Good,
Thou Mother of Fertility;
Thou Nature's Vital Blood!
That thrô Earth's crooked Veins dost slide,
Thrô secret Caverns and dark Ways dost glide;
And with thy Kindly Influence
Dost Life and Vigour to the Whole dispence:
Thy Power doth thrô all Parts of Nature wind;
All, that we Feel, or Smell, or Tast, or See,
All owe their Birth and Growth to Thee!
Thy Moisture doth the parts of Bodies join,
Hard Rocks and Adamants thy Vertue find:
An unseen Balm each Particle doth tie,
Doth them in lasting Friendship twine;
Which, when by Chymick Art extracted thence,
The separated Parts do all
To scorned Dust and Rubbish fall:
Wisely did Thales Thee the Sourse of All things call!

II.

Old Fainting Nature thou dost keep alive;
With pleasing Cordial dost her strength retrieve,
Which she doth thirstily drink down.
And th' Age shall come, as Sacred Bards have told,
Which they in Heaven's high Laws have found enrol'd;
When Heat shall th' Earth's Balsamick Moisture sink,
Insatiate Heat the Radical Moisture drink;

102

And th' Feaverish World shall burn and fry
Deliquiums and strange Syncopes endure
Till th' Hectick Fire beyond all Medicine grown,
The Circling Zodiack shall in pieces fly
And melted by the rageing Calenture,
Th' Eternal Poles shall sink and all
The Massy Rocks, the Earth's Foundation
Into the deep-wrought Pit of sure Destruction fall.

III.

Bless'd Element! How gratefull to my Mind!
Nurse of Delight and pleasing Joy!
What Charms can I in thy Embraces find!
No wonder wise Antiquity
Did Beauteous Nymphs to Chrystal Rivers turn;
And made their Lovers i'th' cool Streams to burn.
Enchanting Goddess! without Thee
The World would all a Lybian Desert be;
Hot scalding Sands would o're its Surface spread,
And noxious Beasts and pois'nous Serpents breed.
Thou deck'st the Lovers shady Bowers,
Thou dressest up the Meads with Flowers;
Thy four-fold Streams thrô Paradise did run
Dress'd by the Hand Divine,
Silver'd by Thee, and Gilded by the Sun.
Ceres to Thee her Growth doth ow;
And Bacchus thanks Thee for his Generous Wine,
Bred by the Sun and thy sweet Flowers!
And Gods to Thee their Gratitude should show,
From whom their Nectar and Ambrosia flow!

IV.

Here in Elysian Fields by chiding Rills
The Off-spring o'th' eternal Hills;
Beneath a pleasing Shade, that can defeat
The Sun's impetuous Heat;

103

Where Zephyr gently murmurs thrô the Bowers,
And dallies with the smiling Flowers,
And all the winged Choristers above
In melting strains sing to the God of Love:
While pleased Nature doth a silence keep,
Even Hills do Nod, and Rivers seem to Sleep:
Here with a Friend, Copartner of my Joys,
Whose Artfull Soul knows every way
The scaly Off-spring to betray,
The bold, the fearfull, or the cautious Prey:
I an extensive Empire lay
O're all the watry Plain;
And numerous Subjects do our Scepters fear.
SALMON, the King of Rivers, that each Year
Removes his watry Court to th' Sea;
But with the Sun and Spring returns again,
And o're all Bars of Art, or Nature, flies,
O're Floodgates, Wears and Rocks his Course doth steer.
And if the Alpes in's Passage lay
Like Hannibal would find, or force, a Way.
The Beauteous TROUT, of the same Princely Blood,
But of a less Estate and kept at Home,
Confin'd to his own narrow Flood,
Can't with such State o're distant Regions roam.
In his own fenced Court secure he lies;
Till by some treacherous Bait betray'd, he dies.
The ravenous PYKE, the River-Wolf, whose Throat
Like Hell promiscuously all swallows down;
Bold and Rapacious a great Tyrant reigns
O're all the Subjects of the watry Plains.
No Kind hath an Exemption got;
To him no Rule of Love or Kindred's known:
The Fury of his Jaws not his own Race can shun.

104

V.

With these the armed PEARCH, that dares
Even with the Tyrant Pyke make wars,
And doth a petty Empire own
O're all the lesser Fry;
Delicious Food to curious Palates known.
BREAM, that i'th' calmy Deeps doth lie
And at great Banquets makes a Dish of State.
BARBELL, the River-Swine,
That doth i'th' watry Regions root and eat:
In hollow Rocks doth place his Seat,
By Floodgates, Cataracts, and Bridges lies,
And all the Force of sweeping Nets defies.
CHEVIN, that under shady Boughs doth play,
And's kill'd more for Delight and Sport, than Prey;
On whom the Hungry even unwilling dine.

VI.

HUMBER and GREYLING, that swift streams do love
Of Derwent, Fruitfull Trent, and Chrystal Dove.
CARP even by Princes priz'd, whom curious Tasts approve;
In fenced Ponds, safe as a Treasure laid,
The Stream's Physician TENCH, whose balmy Slime
Heals all the Maladies of the watry Clime.
The silver EEL, that yet doth keep unknown
Her Secret way of Propagation:
These and a Crowd of Species more
That live on many a distant Shore;
Some that in Beauty do exceed;
Some that in Strength and some in Speed:
And some by Nature arm'd for bloody Fight.
Some that in fertil Mudd do feed,
Some that in barren Sands delight,
Some that fenc'd Rocks and woody Shades do own:
Beside the ignoble lesser Fry,

105

The Rabble of the watry Clime,
Not worth a Fisher's Time,
And more unworthy Memory,
Destin'd by Fate the Greater's Prey to be,
I'th' Water's curs'd Democrasie,
Are Subjects all of our Dominion.

VII.

With artfull Hand and with judicious Eye
We sleave the Artificial Fly.
Nature, the Universal Guide,
In every step and progress She doth make,
Our Art can overtake:
There's not an Insect, dress'd in all the Pride,
In all the pompous gawdy Pageantry,
That Nature's Wardrobe can create,
But our unbounded Art can imitate.
All, that on Plants, or Simples breed,
All, that on Trees, or Waters feed;
All, that the fruitfull Spring,
The Sun and Heat do to Perfection bring;
All, that do grow from Putrefaction:
Each Colour, Shade, and Shape, that's made
I'th' Universal Shop, where lie
The Molds, in which each Creature's laid
And Garbs, each Insect do invest,
Our Artfull Bait puts on,
By a quick Eye and a rich Fancy drest.
So true, it can't Distinguish'd be
By Trout or Greyling's piercing Eye.

VIII.

With Art contriv'd, manag'd with Art, the Fly,
By steady Hand and nimble Eye,
To any distant Place we throw;
And th' fatal Bait to credulous Eyes do show:

106

VVary, as Treason lurks, we move
Silence do all Conspiracies improve.
The deadly Bait shakes pendent in the Air,
Deadly and fatal, as a Blazing star,
Destruction with it falls to all, are near:
Infectious Influence it doth breathe
None can its Charms deny:
“So steep and slippery are the Ways to Death.

IX.

Sometimes in pitty to the watry Race
Our generous Endeavours press
To kill the Raving Tyrant of the Flood
The Pyke, that his own Subjects makes his Food;
Way lays the Streams and beaten Roads
And common ways to their Aboads,
And all, that in his Reach do come,
Do-in his hungry Entrails find a Tomb.
Hunger, that Death to all about doth breathe,
Fatal to him doth his own Death bequeath:
A Captive Fish in Chains we tie;
Which, Decius-like, with comely State
Doth for his Kindred's safety boast to die:
With all inviting Motions plays,
That may desire and hunger raise,
And draw the Tyrant to the deadly Bait:
And how doth he rejoyce,
To perish with him in one common Fate?
While all the Kindred Fry,
In crowding Shoals express their Joy,
That now untroubled Peace doth o're the Waters fly.

X.

Of Old — — —
The happy Man, that did a Tyrant stay,
And a slav'd People to their Freedom bring;
Or He, that from some deadly Dragon's Sting,

107

Or bloody Jaws of Beasts of Prey
The frighted Multitude did free;
Each joyfull Mouth did sing his Praise,
With honour'd Wreaths each hand his Head did crown:
Statues and Obelisks the Crowd did raise;
And Garlands on Triumphant Arches nod;
And the next Age made him a God:
Thus Python's Death Apollo's Godhead gave;
And Hydra slain render'd Alcides Brave.
What Honour then to Us belongs,
What Praises, and what just Renown,
Who th' watry Race from their Great Tyrant save?
The watry Race, whose silent Tongues
Cannot in melting Numbers Pray,
Nor Thanks for Favours lent repay!
Mean Souls may long Intreaties love,
Them Prospects of Rewards may move:
That Favor's Great, which without these is Generously done.

XI.

Sometimes with patient Skill
We watch the Motion of our trembling Quill:
No Force, nor Tyranny we use;
Each Fish, or may accept, or may refuse:
And no One's took, but he that will.
All the inviting Baits we prove,
Which Nature naked doth present,
Or Art, her Handmaid, doth improve:
And if we find their Stomacks low
All Dainties, that on Nature's Bosom grow,
And all sweet melting Pasts we use;
Rich, Aromatick, Drugs infuse
With cleanly Art and Neatness spent:
(Cleanliness much the watry Race doth love,
Who every moment wash their Filth away.)

108

All, that may please their curious Scent,
Or their more-curious Eye;
That those, whom Hunger doth not move,
Are took by Wantonness and Curiosity:

XII.

Bless'd Art! for Contemplation fit,
And towring Sallys of the Mind;
Where Fancy free and unconfin'd,
To distant Objects takes her Flight.
Sometimes from streams in humble Vales below
We to th' Celestial Cataracts do rise,
And visit all the Scaly Race
That streams, above-the-Firmament, do grace,
And Angle with a Jacob's Staff!
Now we to meaner Subjects bow,
On our own Chrystal Rivers gaze,
And see the World decipher'd in the Glass,
And at its serious Follies laugh!
See Tyranny i'th' Ravenous Pyke is shown,
I'th' Armed Pearch Oppression,
And in the Servile Crowd Passive Subjection;
The Servile Crowd, that ne'r of Wrongs complain.—
Curs'd Democratick State;—
That doth no Law of Precepts own,
But headlong Fury over all doth reign.
And all the lesser Fry
Without or Crime, or Cause, must dy,
Onely because they'r Small and others Great.

XIII.

Raptur'd Delight! the Soul, that loves not Thee,
Whom Fatal Pleasures o'th' Deceitfull Court,
Or Sycophantick Flattery,
Whom Riches, or whom Honours sway,
Or whom Revenge doth draw away,

109

Or other low or base Design mislead
From thy serener Sport;
May He upon some naked Beach,
That o'r those Streams doth hang, he cannot reach,
Or may he in a Lybian Desert dwell
With burning rowling Sands o'respread,
One Degree on this side Hell:
May he among the Cinders live and burn,
Till he a perfect Salamander turn:
With raging Thirst for cooling Currents long,
But never get one Drop to cool his Tongue.
And if a Fish he e'r doth chance to see,
May it a Crocodile or Hydra be:
May scaly Serpents round his Temples twine,
Serpents, whose Heat
Their blood doth up to Poyson boil:
May Asps and Adders be his Meat,
And blood of Dragons be his Wine;
May He far off behold a flowry Plain,
And winding Rivers thrô it smile,
Like Tantalus to' increase his pain:
May these to him be seen,
As to the Damn'd the Joys of Heaven, with a vast Gulf between!
May all these Plagues doubled to him resort,
That any Poaching Ways doth use,
Or th' Honour of our Art abuse,
Or with devouring Nets doth spoil our Sport.

XIV.

May I (far from desire of being Great)
Enjoy a little Quiet Seat,
That overlooks a Chrystal Stream:
With Mind as Calm, as is her Brow,
Pure as the Fountain, whence her Waters flow;
Those Pleasures tast a Cynick could not blame.

110

And may (Ye watry Sisters all,
With Fruitfulness and Plenty crown'd)
May all your Dewy Blessings on Me fall!
Ye, that from craggy Rocks do take Your Source,
Or from the Flowry Hills do grow:
All, that in hollow Vaults resound,
Or do from Fruitfull Valleys flow:
All, that thrô Rocks Your way do force,
And foaming Waves in pieces dash;
All, that in Flowry Meadows stray,
And with Your Amorous Banks do play;
All, whose proud Waves the Walls of Citties wash;
All, that thrô Deserts take Your Course.
All, whose wide Bosoms Ships do plow,
Which Vice and Riches bring:
All, that to humble Cotes do bow,
And hear the Jolly Shepherds, when they sing:
The Haughty, Rapid, and Imperious Dames;
The Still, the Quiet, and Soft-gliding Streams:
May all assist the Angler's harmless Sport,
And with Full Hands unto Our Line Resort;
All, that with Silver Feet
In Melting Numbers and Harmonious Strains,
Immortal Spencer once did cause to meet
On th' Marriage-Day of Medway and of Thames!