FONTENELLE's PLURALITY of WORLDS.
IN this fmall work all nature's wonders fee,
The foften'd features of philofophy.
In truth by easy steps you here advance,
Truth, as diverting as the beft romance.
Long had these arts to fages been confin'd,
None faw their beauty, till by poring blind;
By studying spent, like men that cram too full,
From Wisdom's feaft they rofe not chear'd, but dull:
The gay and airy fmil'd to see 'em grave,
And fled fuch wifdom like TROPHONIUS' cave.
Juftly they thought they might those arts despise,
Which made men fullen, ere they could be wife.
Brought down to fight, with eafe you view 'em here;
Tho' deep the bottom, yet the stream is clear.
Your flutt'ring fex ftill valued fcience lefs;
Careless of any, but the arts of drefs.
Their ufelefs time was idly thrown away
On empty novels, or fome new-born play.
The best, perhaps, a few loofe hours might spare
For fome unmeaning thing, mifcall'd a pray 'r.
In vain the glittering orbs, each starry night,
With mingling blazes shed a flood of light:
Each nymph with cold indiff'rence faw 'em rife;
And, taught by fops, to them preferr'd her eyes.
None thought the ftars were funs fo widely fown,
None dreamt of other worlds, befides our own.
Well might they boast their charms, when ev'ry fair
Thought this world all, and hers the brightest here.
Ah! quit not the large thoughts this book infpires,
For those thin trifles which your fex admires;
Affert your claim to fenfe, and fhew mankind,
That reafon is not to themselves confin'd.
The haughty belle, whofe beauty's awful fhrine,
'Twere facrilege t'imagine not divine;
Who thought fo greatly of her eyes before,
Bid her read this, and then be vain no more.
How poor ev'n You, who reign without controul,
If we except the beauties of your foul!
Should all beholders feel the fame furprize;
Should all who see you, fee you with my eyes!
Were no fuch blasts to make that beauty lefs;
Should you be what I think, what all confefs!
'Tis but a narrow space those charms engage;
One Island only, and not half an Age.
ON THE FIFTH OF DECEMBER,
Being the Birth-Day of a very beautiful Young Lady.
By Mr. CHRISTOPHER SMART.
HAIL, eldeft of the monthly train,
Sire of the winter drear,
DECEMBER, in whofe iron rein
Expires the chequer'd year:
Hush all the bluft'ring blasts that blow,
And proudly plum'd in filver fnow
Smile gladly on this bleft of days;
The livery'd clouds fhall on thee wait,
And PHOEBUS shine in all his state,
With more than fummer rays.
II.
Tho' jocund JUNE may juftly boast
Long days and happy hours;
Tho' AUGUST be POMONA's hoft,
And MAY be crown'd with flow'rs;
Tell JUNE his fire and crimson dyes
By HARRIOT's blufh, and HARRIOT's eyes
Eclips'd and vanquifh'd fade away;
Tell AUGUST, thou canst let him fee
A richer, riper fruit than He,
A fweeter flow'r than MAY.
IN the kalendies of Januarie,
When frefche PHOEBUS by moving circulair
From Capricorn was enter'd in Aquarie,
With blaftis that the branches made full bare,
The fnow and fleet perturbit all the air,
And flemit FLORA from everie bank and bus,
Throuch fupport of the aufteir Eolus.
Efter that I the lang wynteries night
Had lyne waking in my bed allone
Throw hevy thought, that na way fleep I micht,
Remembering of divers thingis gone :
Sa up I rois, and cleithit me anone
By this fair Titan with his lemis licht
O'er all the land had fpred his banner bricht.
With cloke and hude I dreffit me belive,
With dowbill fchone, and myttains on my handis,
Howbeit the air was richt penetratyve,
Zet fure I forth lanfing outhort the landis,
Towards the fea, to fchort me on the fandis
Because unblomit was baith bank and bray,
And fa as I was paffing by the way,
I met dame FLORA in dule weid difagy fit,
Quilk into May was dulce and delectabill,
With stalwart stormis hir sweetness was surprisit,
Hir heavinlie hewis war turnit into fabill,
Quilkis umguile war to Luffaris amiabill,
Fled from the froift, the tender flouris I faw
Under dame Nature's mantill lurking law.
The fmall fowlis in flockis faw I flee
To nature makand lamentatioun,
They lichtit down befide me on ane tree,
Of thair complaint I had compaffioun,
And with, ane piteous exclamation
They faid "bly fit be fomer with his flouris,
"And waryit be thou wynter with thy fchowris.
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