The Continuation of the History of Galesia.

The good Lady and Galesia being thus sate down to their Work, and the Trunks open'd, the first Thing they laid their Hands on, was a Piece of a Farce, which the Lady would have put by, for another Opportunity; and desired Galesia to begin where Lucasia and she broke off in St. Germains-Garden: To which Galesia readily comply'd without Hesitation.

HAVING disingag'd my Thoughts from Bosvil, said she, I had nothing to disturb my Tranquility, or hinder me from being Happy, but the Absence of my dear Brother, who was gone a second Time beyond Sea, to study at the University of Leyden, that being the Third Place where he endeavour'd to inrich his Mind; having before gathered a Treasure of Learning from those Two inexhaustible Fountains, Oxford and Paris: thereby to inable him to perform, what he shortly intended to practise, the Cure of Human Maladies; in which he began already to be known and esteemed.

It would be too tedious to give your Ladyship a Character of this excellent Man, whose Learning grac'd his natural Parts, and his vertuous Life was an Honour to his Learning. His Philosophy and Medicinal Science did not supplant Civility, but cultivated and inrich'd his natural pleasant Humour. He was in every thing a Gentleman and a Christian, so that Envy herself could not find a feeble Side whereon to plant her Batteries, to attack or deface that Esteem his Merits had rais'd in the Hearts of all that knew him; which serv'd to make me more sensible of his Absence.

However, I comforted my self with the Hopes of his Return; and in the mean time, corresponded as often as I cou'd in Writing, passing the rest of my Time in my shady Walks, Fields, and Rural Affairs. The Pleasure of which was greatly improv'd by reading Mrs. Phillips. I began to emulate her Wit, and aspir'd to imitate her Writings; in doing of which, I think, I deserv'd Arachne's Fate, or at least to be transform'd into one of the lowest of Mack-Fleckno's Followers: Her noble Genius being inimitable; especially in Praise of a Country-Life, and Contempt of human Greatness; all which I swallow'd as Draughts of rich Cordial, to enliven the Understanding. Her Poetry I found so interwoven with Vertue and Honour, that each Line was like a Ladder to climb, not only to Parnassus, but to Heaven: which I (poor Puzzle as I was!) had the Boldness to try to imitate, 'till I was dropp'd into a Labyrinth of Poetry, which has ever since interlac'd all the Actions of my Life. Amongst other Fancies, I took into my Head, to draw a Landskip in Verse, beginning with a Grove.
The GROVE.

Well might the Ancients deem a Grove to be

The sacred Mansion of some Deity;

Its pleasing Shades, and gloomy Terrors, move

Our Souls at once to pious Fears and Love:

Betwixt these Passions, rightly understood,

Lies the streight Road to everlasting Good.

Fear frights from Hell, and Love exalts to Heav'n;

Happy the Soul to whom these Two are giv'n!

Beside the Pleasure of the Present Time,

To walk and muse, describe its Sweets in Rhime;

Where nought but Peace and Innocence obtrude,

The worst that can be said of it, 'tis rude.

Yet Nature's Culture is so well express'd,

That Art herself would wish to be so dress'd.

???Lo! here the Sun conspires with ev'ry Tree,

To deck the Earth in Landskip-Tapistry:

Then thro' some Space his brightest Beams appear,

Erecting a bright golden Pillar there.

Here a close Canopy of Boughs is made;

There a soft grassy Cloth of State is spread;

With Gems and gayest Flow'rs imbroider'd o'er,

Fresh as those Beauties honest Swains adore.

Here Nature's Hand, for Health and Pleasure, sets

Cephalick Cowslips, Cordial Violets.

The cooling Diuretick Woodbine grows,

Supported by th' Scorbutick Canker-Rose.

Splenetick Columbines their Heads hang down,

As if displeas'd their Vertue should be known.

Pinks, Lillies, Daisies, Bettony, Eye bright,

To purge the Head, strengthen or clear the Sight.

Some mollify, some draw, some Ulcers clear,

Some purify, and some perfume the Air.

Of which some gentle Nymph the fairest takes,

And for her Coridon a Garland makes:

Whilst on her Lap the happy Youth's Head lies,

Gazing upon the Aspects of her Eyes;

The most unerring, best Astronomy,

Whereby to calculate his Destiny.

Whilst o'er their Heads a Pair of Turtles coo,

Which with less Constancy and Passion wooe.

The Birds around, thro' their extended Throats,

In careless Consort, chant their pleasing Notes;

Than which no sweeter Musick charms the Ear,

Except when Lovers Sighs each other hear;

Which are more soft than austral Breeses bring,

Altho' 'tis said, they're Harbingers o'th' Spring.

???Methinks, I pity much the busy Town,

To whom these Rural Pleasures are not known.

But more I pity those whom Fate inthralls,

Who can't retire when Inclination calls,

By Business, Families, and Fortune ty'd;

Beset, besieg'd, attack'd on ev'ry Side,

By Friends & Foes; Wit, Beauty, Mirth & Wine,

Piques, Parties, Policies, and Flatterers join

To storm one's Quiet, Vertue undermine.

???'Tis hard we must, the World's so vicious grown,

Be complaisant in Crimes, or live alone!

For those who now with Vertue are indu'd,

Do live alone, tho' in a Multitude.

Then fly, all ye whom Fortune don't oblige

To suffer the Distresses of a Siege;

Fly to some calm Retreat, and there retrieve

Your squander'd Time; 'Tis ne'er too late to live.

Free from all Envy, and the tiresome Noise

Of prating Fools, and Wits that ne'er were wise:

Free from Ambition, and from base Design,

Which equally our Vertue undermine,

In Plenty here, without Excess, we dine.

If we in wholsome Exercise delight,

Our Sleep becomes more sound & sweet at Night;

Or if one's Mind to Contemplation leads,

Who has the Book of God and Nature, needs

No other Object to imploy his Thought,

Since in each Leaf such Mysteries are wrought,

That whoso studies most, shall never know

Why the strait Elm's so tall, the Moss so low.

???I farther cou'd inlarge upon this Theme,

But that I'm, unawares, come to the Stream,

Which at the Bottom of this Grove doth glide:

And now I'll rest me by its flow'ry Side.

Thus, Madam, I have given you the first Taste of my Country-Poetry, which to your Ladyship (who is furnish'd with all the fine Pieces that come out) must needs be as insipid as Water-gruel to breakfast, of those that are us'd to Chocolate and rich Jellies.

It will do very well, reply'd the Lady, a Landskip in a Screen, is very agreeable; therefore let me have the rest.

The next Madam (reply'd Galesia) is the Rivulet at the Bottom of the Grove, which I try'd to mould into Pindarick: I suppose, out of Curiosity; for I neither love to read nor hear that kind of Verse. Methinks, it is to the Ear like Virginal Jacks to the Eye; being all of irregular Jumps, and Starts, sudden Disappointments, and long-expected Periods, which deprives the Mind of that Musick, wherewith the good Sense would gratify it, if in other Measures. But since your Ladyship commands, be pleas'd to take it as it is; next to Blank Verse disagreeable: (at least, to my Ear) one sort spoils good Verse, the other good Prose; whereas the regular Chime of other Verse, helps to make amends for indifferent Sense: Wherefore, fit to be courted by me; whose Fingers ought to have been imploy'd rather at the Needle and the Distaff, than to the Pen and Standish, and leave these Enterprizes to the Learned, who know how to compose all Measures, thereby to please all Palates. However, at present, I shall sacrifice this Aversion to the Obedience due to your Ladyship's Commands.
The Rivulet.
I.

Ah! lovely Stream, how fitly may'st thou be,

??????By thy Immutability,

Thy gentle Motion and Perennity,

???To us the Emblem of Eternity?

??????And, to us, thou dost no less

A kind of Omnipresence, too, express,

??????For always at the Ocean, thou

Art ever here, and at thy Fountain too;

Always thou go'st thy proper Course,

Most willingly, and yet by Force,

Each Wave forcing its precursor on;

Yet each one freely runs, with equal haste,

As if each fear'd to be the last;

With mutual Strife, void of Con-ten-ti-on,

In Troops they march, 'till thousand, thousand's past,

???Yet, gentle Stream, art still the same,

???Always going, never gone:

???Yet do'st all Constancy disclaim,

Wildly dancing to thine own murmuring tuneful Song,

???Old as Time, as Love and Beauty young.
II.

But chiefly thou to Unity lay'st claim,

??????For though in Thee

Innumerable Drops there be,

??????Yet still thou art but One,

Th' Original of which, from Heav'n came;

??????Whose purest Transcript we

I'th' Church may wish, but never hope to see,

???Whilst each Pretender thinks himself alone

??????To be the True Church Militant:

??????Nay, well it is, if such will grant,

That there is one elsewhere Triumphant.
III.

???Ah, gentle Stream! ah, happy we!

??????Cou'd we but learn of thee,

As thou dost Nature, we our God obey;

??????Gently rolling on our Way:

??????And as we pass, like thee do good,

??????Benign to all our Neighbourhood;

To God and Man, our Love and Duty pay:

Then at our Ocean we Repose shall find,

The Ocean Grave, which swallows all Mankind!

Thus, Madam, I trifled my Time, 'till the Return of my Brother from Leyden, which was to me like the Return of Spring to Northern Climes. His drooping Presence rais'd my Spirits, and dispers'd those Clouds of Sorrow gather'd in my Heart by Bosvil's Falshood. I began to delight myself in Dressing, Visiting, and other Entertainments, befitting a young Gentlewoman; nevertheless, did not omit my Study, in which my Brother continued to oblige my Fancy, and assisted me in Anatomy and Simpling, in which we took many a pleasing Walk, and gather'd many Patterns of different Plants, in order to make a large natural Herbal. I made such Progress in Anatomy, as to understand Harvey's Circulation of the Blood, and Lower's Motion of the Heart. By these and the like Imployments, I began to forget and scorn Bosvil. If I thought on him at all, it was with Contempt; and I wonder'd how it came to pass that I ever lov'd him, and thought myself secure the rest of my Days from that Weakness.

As I thus betook myself to an Amusement different from my Sex and Years, my other young Companions, began to look grave upon me; or I, perhaps, look'd so upon them. Our little Follies of telling our Dreams; laying Things under each other's Heads to dream of our Amours; counting Specks on our Nails, who should have the most Presents from Friends or Lovers; tying Knots in the Grass; pinning Flowers on our Breasts, to know the Constancy of our Pretenders; drawing Husbands in the Ashes; St. Agnes's Fast; and all such childish Auguries, were now no more any Diversion to me; so that I became an useless Member in our Rural Assemblies. My Time and Thoughts were taken up in Harvey, Willis, and such-like Authors, which my Brother help'd me to understand and relish, which otherwise might have seemed harsh or insipid: And these serv'd to make me unfit Company for every body; for the Unlearned fear'd, and the Learned scorn'd my Conversation; at least, I fancy'd so: A Learned Woman, being at best but like a Forc'd-Plant, that never has its due or proper Relish, but is wither'd by the first Blast that Envy or Tribulation blows over her Endeavours. Whereas every Thing, in its proper Place and Season, is graceful, beneficial, and pleasant. However, my dear Brother humouring my Fancy, I pass'd my Time in great Satisfaction. His Company was my Recreation, and his wise Documents my Instruction; even his Reproofs were but as a poignant Sauce, to render his good Morals the more savoury, and easier digested. Thus we walk'd and talk'd; we laugh'd and delighted our-selves; we dress'd and visited; we received our Friends kindly, and by them were generously treated in their turn: all which was to the Satisfaction of our endearing tender Parents. But, alas! short was the Continuance of this Happiness; for my dear Brother died. And now, Madam, forgive these flowing Tears, which interrupt my Discourse.

Galesia having discharg'd a Torrent of Tears, the usual Effect of any Discourse for so great a Loss, she endeavoured to compose her self, dry'd her Eyes, and return'd to her Story.

This, Madam, was such a Grief as I had never felt; for though I had suffer'd much in the Transactions of Bosvil; yet those Sorrows were allay'd, in some degree, by the Mixture of other Passions, as Hope, Fear, Anger, Scorn, Revenge, & c. But this was Grief in Abstract, Sorrow in pure Element. I griev'd without ceasing; my Sighs alternatively blew up my Tears, and my Tears allay'd my Sighs, 'till fresh Reflections rais'd new Gusts of Sorrow. My Solitude was fill'd with perpetual Thoughts of Him; and Company was entertain'd with nothing but Discourses of this my irreparable Loss. My sleeping, as well as waking Hours, were fill'd with Ideas of him! Sometimes I dream'd I saw his Ghost, come to visit me from the other World; sometimes I thought I assisted him in his Sickness; sometimes attending at his Funeral; then awake in a Flood of Tears; when, waking, I cou'd form no Thought or Idea, but what Grief suggested. In my Walks and Studies, it was still the same, the Remembrance of some wise Documents, or witty Entertainment, roused up my Grief, by reflecting on my great Loss. No Book or Paper cou'd I turn over, but I found Memorandums of his Wisdom and Learning, which served to continue and augment my Grief; and so far transported me sometimes, that I even wish'd for that which is the Horror of Nature, that I might see his Ghost. I experienced what the Philosophers assert, That much reflecting on Death, is the way to make it less terrible; and 'tis certain, I reflected so much on his, that I wish'd for nothing more; wish'd to be with him; wish'd to be in that happy State, in which I assur'd my self his Vertues had plac'd him. But in vain I wish'd for Death; I was ordain'd to struggle with the Difficulties of Life; which were to be many, as I have since experienced; Heaven having taken away from me, Him, who seem'd by Nature ordain'd to conduct me through the Labyrinth of this World, when the Course of Nature should take my dear indulgent Parents from me, to their Repose in Elysium. And now, instead of being a Comfort to them in this their great Affliction, my Griefs added Weight to theirs, such as they could hardly sustain.

I read those Books he had most studied, where I often found his Hand-writing, by way of Remarks, which always caus'd a new Flux of Tears. I often call'd upon Death; but Death was deaf, or his Malice otherwise imploy'd on more worthy Prey; leaving me a useless Wretch; useless to the World; useless to my Friends, and a Burden to myself: Whilst he that was necessary to his Friends, an Honour to his Profession, and beneficial to Mankind, (but chiefly to me) the Tyrant Death had seiz'd and convey'd away for ever! — O that Word Ever! that Thought Ever! The Reflection of Ever and Never, devour'd all that cou'd be agreeable or pleasing to me: Ever to want his wise Instructions! Never to injoy his flowing Wit! Ever to regret this my irreparable Loss! Never to have his dear Company in my shady Walks! This Ever and Never, star'd in my Thoughts like Things with Saucer-Eyes in the Dark, serving to fright me from all Hopes of Happiness in this World.

In these and the like anxious and melancholy Amusements, I pass'd my woeful Days, 'till Length of Time, which changes and devours all Things, began a little to abate my Grief, and the Muses began to steal again into my Breast; and having, as I said before, affected to study those Books, on which I had seen my Brother most intent, I at last resolv'd to begin with a Body of Anatomy, and between whiles, to reduce it into Verse: Perhaps, reflecting on what is said of Ovid, that he writ Law in Verse: And Physick being as little reducible to that Softness as Law, I know not what Emulation or Fancy excited me; but thus I began:
An Invocation of her Muse.

Come, gentle Muse! assist me now,

A double Wreath plait for my Brow,

Of Poetry and Physick too. Teach me in Numbers to rehearse

Hard Terms of Art, in smooth, soft Verse,

And how we grow, and how decrease. Teach me to sing Apollo's Sons,

The Ancient and the Modern-ones,

And sing their Praise in gentle Tones. But chiefly sing those Sons of Art,

Which teach the Motion of the Heart,

Nerves, Spirits, Brains, and every Part.
ANATOMY.

Now Bartholine, the first of all this Row,

Does to me Nature's Architecture show;

How the Foundation, first, of Earth is laid;

Then, how the Pillars of Strong-Bones are made.

The Walls consist of Carneous-Parts within,

The Out-side pinguid, overlay'd with Skin;

The Fret-work, Muscles, Arteries and Veins,

With their Implexures; and how from the Brains

The Nerves descend; and how 'tis they dispense

To every Member Motive-Power, and Sense.

He shews the Windows in this Structure fix'd,

How trebly glaz'd, and Curtains drawn betwixt

Them & Earth's Objects: All which prove in vain

To keep out Lust, or Innocence retain.

For 'twas the Eye, that first discern'd the Food,

As pleasing to itself, for eating good,

Then was persuaded, that it wou'd refine

The half-wise Soul, and make it all Divine.

But O how dearly Wisdom's bought with Sin,

Which shuts out Grace; lets Death & Darkness in.

And 'cause our Sex precipitated first,

To Pains, and Ignorance we since are curs'd.

Desire of Knowledge, cost us very dear;

For Ignorance, e'er since, became our Share.

???But as I was inlarging on this Theme,

Willis and Harvey bid me follow them.

???They brought me to the a first & largest Court

Of all this Building, where, as to a Port,

All Necessaries are brought from afar,

For Susentation, both in Peace and War.

For War b this Common-wealth, doth oft insest,

Which pillages one Part, and storms the rest.

???We view'd the Kitchen call'd Ventriculus;

Then pass'd we through the Space call'd Pylorus;

And to the Dining-Room we came at last,

Where the Lacteals take their sweet Repast.

From thence we thro' a Drawing-room did pass,

And came where Jecur very busie was:

c Sanguificating the whole Mass of Chyle,

And severing the Crural Parts from Bile:

And when she's made it tolerably good,

She pours it forth to mix with other Blood.

This & much more we saw; from thence we went

Into the d next Court by a small Ascent.

Bless me! said I; what Rarities are here!

A e Fountain like a Furnace did appear,

Still boiling o'er, and running out so fast,

That one wou'd think its Eflux, cou'd not last:

Yet it sustain'd no Loss, as I cou'd see,

Which made me think it a strange Prodigy.

Come on, says Harvey, don't stand gazing here,

But follow me, and I thy Doubts will clear.

???Then we began our Journey with the Blood,

Trac'd the Meanders of its Purple Flood.

Thus we thro' many Labyrinths did pass,

In such, I am sure, old D?dalus ne'er was.

Sometimes ith' Out-works, sometimes the First-Court,

Sometimes i'th' Third these winding Streams would sport.

Such Rarities we found in this Third Place,

As put ev'n Comprehension to disgrace.

Here's Cavities, said one; And here, says He,

Is th' Seat of Fancy, Judgment, Memory.

Here, says another, is the fertile Womb,

From whence the Spirits-Animal do come:

Which are mysteriously ingender'd here,

Of Spirits, from arterial Blood and Air.

Here, says a third, Life made her first approach,

Moving the Wheels of her triumphant Coach.

But Harvey that Hypothesis deny'd,

Say'ng 'twas the Deaf-Ear on the Dexter-side.

Then there arose a trivial small Dispute,

Which he by Fact and Reason did confute.

This being ended, we began again

Our former Progress, and forsook the Brain;

And after some small Traverses about,

Came to the Place where we before set out:

Then I perceiv'd, how Harvey all made good,

By th' Circles of the Circulating Blood,

As Fountains have their Water from the Sea,

To which again they do themselves convey.

And here we found great Lower, with much Art,

Surveying the whole Structure of the Heart.

Welcome said he, dear Cousin! Are you here?

Sister to Him, whose Worth we all revere:

But ah, alas! So short was his Life's Date,

As makes us since, almost, our Practice hate;

Since we cou'd find out nought in all our Art,

That cou'd prolong the Motion of his Heart.

This latter Line, Madam, was, and is, and ever will be, my great Affliction. So dear a Friend, shining with such Brightness of Parts, cut off in his Bloom! Ah Me! I cannot think or speak of him without weeping; which if I did not in abundance, I shou'd not be just to his Memory; I shou'd be unworthy of that Fraternal Love he express'd to me on all Occasions; so that it is fit I should weep on all Occasions; especially when I reflect how much I want him in every Circumstance of Life. The only Comfort I have, i............