William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Restoration Verse. 1910.
Upon NothingJohn Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (16471680)
N
That hadst a being ere the world was made,
And (well fixed) art alone of ending not afraid.
When primitive Nothing Something straight begot,
Then all proceeded from the great united—What?
Sever’d from thee, its sole original,
Into thy boundless self must undistinguish’d fall.
And from thy fruitful emptiness’s hand
Snatch’d men, beasts, birds, fire, air, and land.
By Form assisted, flew from thy embrace;
And rebel Light obscured thy reverend dusky face.
Body, thy foe, with thee did leagues combine,
To spoil thy peaceful realm, and ruin all thy line.
And, bribed by thee, assists thy short-liv’d reign,
And to thy hungry womb drives back thy slaves again.
And the divine alone, with warrant, pries
Into thy bosom, where the truth in private lies;
Thou from the virtuous Nothing tak’st away,
And to be part with thee the wicked wisely pray.
Inquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise?
Didst thou not stand to point their dull philosophies.
And, true or false, the subject of debate,
That perfect or destroy the vast designs of Fate;
Within thy bosom most securely rest,
And, when reduced to thee, are least unsafe and best.
That sacred monarchs should at council sit,
With persons highly thought at best for nothing fit?
From princes’ coffers, and from statesmen’s brains,
And nothing there like stately Nothing reigns.
For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise,
Lawn sleeves, and furs, and gowns, when they like thee look wise.
Hibernian learning, Scotch civility,
Spaniards’ dispatch, Danes’ wit, are mainly seen in thee.