Now Waves, like Curtains o'er the Tragic Scene, Were spread, nor could the Mountains' Tops be [feen. Parnaffus only ftill unconquer'd ftood, Whose lofty double Front defy'd the Flood, In fruitful Phocis, Phocis now defac'd, No longer fruitful, but a wat'ry Waste; In a small Bark Deucalion here arriv'd, Just were his Actions, and devout his Mind. Arriving here, ftrait to the Pow'rs Divine, Order'd Order'd the North to blow, the Clouds to clear, And Earth to Heav'n, and Heav'n to Earth appear. And Neptune bid the roaring Waves affwage, Threw by his Trident, and they dropt their Rage, Calling cerulean Triton, as he ftood Enclos'd in fhining Scales above the Flood, The well-known Signal of Retreat to make, His hollow founding Shell he bids him take, His twisted Shell which still in Windings grows, And wider from the Mouth and wider fhows. This, by the God infpir'd with vocal Air, From Pole to Pole the distant Regions hear; And all the Waters of the Sea and Land With inftant Speed obey the dread Command. The Ocean seeks his Bounds, the Streams fubfide, And calm within their wonted Chambers glide. Aloft their frighted Heads the Mountains rear, The guilty Waters fhrink and disappear. The The naked tops of Trees, deform'd with Mud, Rifing display the Relicks of the Flood. Thus was the World reftor'd To a Friend in the Country, who complain'd of his Condition, and admir'd High Spirits in Low Fortunes. TH I. HIS would be still my Wish, could I Let those I hate have Spirits high, With Fortunes that are low. II. But furely when we vapour most, She'll pull, in fpight of all our Boast, Our lofty Spirits down. III. Ev'n III. Ev'n I-but I can laugh and fing, Tho' fetter'd and confin'd; My Mind I may to Fortune bring, IV. How feldom is our Good enjoy'd, · Our Ill how hardly born, When all our Fancies are employ'd To kick against the Thorn! V. A lowly Heart and little Eye Kind Heav'n on me bestow; Let those I hate have Spririts high, With Fortunes that are low. VI. These Maxims fage and dry, you'll fay, These rigid moral Rules, Take Take our fuperior Sense away, And fink us into Fools. VII. Whoe'er can Eafe by Folly get, The thoughtful unenjoying Wit, The miserable wife. VIII. But fure our felves aright to fee, IX. Think not I envy Courts and Kings, Think not this Declaration springs From Meanness of my Mind, X. Ev'n |