Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 18.djvu/430

416 Till the blest sun to give kind dawn of grace Darts weeping beams across Heaven's wat'ry face; When soon the peaceful bow unstring'd is shown, A sign God's dart is shot, and wrath o'erblown; Such to unhallowed sight the Muse divine Might seem, when first she rais'd her eyes to mine. What mortal change does in thy face appear, Lost youth, she cried, since first I met thee here! With how undecent clouds are overcast Thy looks, when every cause of grief is past! Unworthy the glad tidings which I bring, ListnListen [sic] while the muse thus teaches thee to sing: As parent earth, burst by imprison'd winds, Scatters strange agues o'er men's sickly minds, And shakes the atheist's knees; such ghastly fear Late I beheld on every face appear; Mild Dorothea, peaceful, wise, and great, Trembling beheld the doubtful hand of fate; Mild Dorothea, whom we both have long Not dared to injure with our lowly song; Sprung from a better world, and chosen then The best companion for the best of men: As some fair pile, yet spared by zeal and rage, Lives pious witness of a better age; So men may see what once was womankind, In the fair shrine of Dorothea's mind. You that would grief describe, come here and trace Its wat'ry footsteps in Dorinda's face; Grief from Dorinda's face does ne'er depart Farther than its own palace in her heart: Ah, since our fears are fled, this insolent expel, At least confine the tyrant to his cell. And