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Calls in the country, catching op’ning glades, Unwater'd see the drooping sea-horse mour Joins willingwoods,and varies thades froin shades; And swallows rooft in Nilus' dufty urn. Now breaks, or now directs, th’intending lines ;; My lord advances with majestic miin, Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs. Snit with the mighty pleasure to better?

Still follow sense, or ev'ry art the foul, But fott-by regular approach-not ye -Parts aniwering parts thall ilide into a whole; Fi At thro’ the length of yon hot terrara Spontaneous beauties all around advance, Anduien up tonicepilopes you've dry Start ev’n from difficulty, strike from chance; Jutt at his ituvy door he'll ble:syoureye. Nature shall join you ; time shall make it grow His ftudy! with what anthors is it t'; A work to wonder at-perlaps a Slow. In books, not authors, curious is my k.

without it, proud Versailles! thy glory falis; To all their dated backs he turn our And Nero's terraces desert their walls : Thefe Aldus printed, those Dusheil 01.25 The vast parterres a thoufund hards shall make, Lo, some are vellum; and the reit as go Ļo! Cobham comes, and floats them with a lake: For all his lordihip knows, but they are si Or cut wide views thro' mountains to the plain, For Locke or Milton 'tis in vain to loch: You 'll with your hill or thelter'd seat again. Theic shelves admit not any modern buia Ev'n in an ornament its place remark,

And now the chapel's tilver bell you h Nor in an hermitage fet Dr. Chuke.

That fummons you to all the pride of pri Behold Villario's ten years toil complete; Light quirks of music, broken and uner? His Quincunx darkens, his Elpaliers meet; Alake the foul dance upon a jiy to heave: The wood fupports the plain, the parts unite, On painted ceilings you devoutly ftare, And strength of shade contends with strength of Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Lj A waving glow the bloomy beds display, [light; Or gilded clouds in fair expanfion lie, Bluihing in bright diversities of day, And bring ail Paradise before your eye. With silver-quiv'ring rills meander'd o'er- To relt the cuthion and fort dean invite, Enjoy them, you! Villario can no more ; Who never mentions hell to ears polite. Tird of the scene parterres and fountains yield, But hark! the clocks to dinner He finds at last he better likes a field.

A hundred footsteps scrape the marble til Thro' his young woods how pleas'd Sabinus The rich buffet well-colour'd serpents a Or sate delighted in the thick’ning thade, [Itray'd, And gaping Tritons spew to wath your : With annual joy the redd'ning thouts to greet, Is this a diuneri this a genial room? Or see the stretching branches long tuo meet ! No, 'tis a temple, and a hecatumb! His fon's fine taste an op'ner vilta loves, A solemn facritice, perform'd in itite; Foe to the dryads of his father's groves; You drink hy measure, and to minutes ! On bouindicis green, or flourish d carpet views, so quick retries cach tly in courte, you With all the rournful famiiy of yews; Sincho's draad doctor and his wand wtru: The thriving plants, ignobie broomfiicks mide, Between each at the tiembling talvert. Now tweep inoic alleys thu;' were born to inaut. Tron tuuptofwect-wine, and Gui bielstiu

At Timon's viile let us pais a day, [w.y!" In pierry ftatvine, tanta izid in tate, Where all cry out, " What iums are thrown And coinplifantly help d 10 all I hate, So proud, fo grand; of that stupendous air, Treated, carels'd, and tir d, I tuke niy Sott and agittal le cone never there. sick of his civil pride from morn to eve; Greatness, with Tinon, dwelis in such a draught i curse luch lavish coft, and little thill, As brings ali Bicbiynag bufore your thought. And fucar no day was ever pass d to iil' To compals this, his building is a town, Yet hence the poor are cloth'd, thehu... His pond an ocean, bis parterre a down : Heat to himself, and to his infants bre. Who but at laugh, the mater when he fees, The lab'rer bears: what is hard heart de A puny infect, thiv'ring at a breeze! his charitable vanity supplies. Lo, what huge bcaps of livini is around ! Another are thall see the golden ear The whole a labourd quarry above ground. Imbrown the rope, and nod on the parter 'I wo Cupids squirt belore: a lake behind Deep harvelt bury all his pride nas p... I aproves tiie keenness of the northern wind. and laughing Ceres re-atlume the lar... His geruen* next your armation call; Who then thall grace, or who impric!! Chevry fide you look, hehold the wall! Who plants like Bathurst, or wlio Lu Nu pieaing intricacies intervene,

Tis uic alone that faactifies

expenie, No wtful wiline is to perples the scene ; and fplendour borrows all her ravstrom Grove nou's it grove, each alley has a brother, his father's acres who enjoy, in perros And halt the piati orm uit retects the other. Or makes his neignbourglaid, it being in The tuti 'ring eye inverted niture fet 3, Whose cheerfui teilunts bless their ye. ;!" 'Irtes cut tu latacs, statues thick as trees; Yet to their lord owe more than to the ke... With here a fountain never to be play'd; Wiole ample lawns are not afhand to take Andihere a lummer-noute that knows no shade ;i The milky heifer and deserving feed; Here Amphitrite fails thro' myrtle bow'rs; Whose riúng foreits, not for price er 26. There gubatoio fight, or use in fow'rs; But future buildings, future havies, grow

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Lehis plantations ftretch from down to down, And Curio, restless by the fair one's fide,
Fit fhade a country, and then raise a town. Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride.

Ta teproceedi make falling arts your care, Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine: Edner sonders, and the old repair; Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories shine, Ja and Paildis to themselves restore,

Her gods and godlike heroes rise to view, And be whate'er Virtrevias was before : And all her faded garments bloom a-new. Talkings call forth th' ideas of your mind Nor blush, these studies thy regard engage; (Frond to accomplish what fuch hands design'd), These pleas’d the fathers of poetic rage? Bids harbour open, public ways extend; The verse and sculpture bore an equal part, Bid temples, worthier of the God, afcend; And art reflected images to art. Bid the bral arch the dang`rous flood contain, oh when thall Britain, conscious of her claim, The mole proiected beak the roaring main;

Stand emulous of Greek and Roman famet Back to his bounds their fabject fea command, In living medals fee her wars enrollid, And roll obedient rivers thro' the land;

And vanquifh'd realms fupply recording gold? These bonours pace to happy Britain brings : Here, riting bold, the patriot's honest face; There are imperial works, and worthy kings. There, warriors frowning in historic brass :

Then future ages with delight fhall see

How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's, looks agree; 18. Epifle to Mr. Addison, occafuned by Or in fair feries laurell'd bards be fhown, Eis Dialogues oa Medals. Pope.

A Virgil there, and here an Addison. line Rome her own fad fepulchre appears, See the wild waste of all-devouring years! Then ihall thyCraggs (and let me call him mine)

On the cast ore, another Pollio, shine; With nodding arches, broken temples "spread! With aspect open thall erect his head, The very tombs now vanish'd like their dead! And round the orb in lasting nores be read, Imperial wonders rais'd on nations spoild, “Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, Wher mix'd with Alaves, the groaning martyr" In action faithful, and in honour clear ;

- Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end, Bar theatres, that now unpeopled woods, " Who gain d no title, and who lost no friend i draind a distant country of her floods: “ Ennobled by himself,

by all approv'd, es which admiring gods with pride furvey,“ And prais’d, unenvied, by the Muse he lov’d.” atsis of men scarce leis alive than they!

e felt the filent stroke of mould'ring age, bez hrotile fury, some religious rage.

$ 19. Epifle to Dr. Arbuthnot, being the Prologue on blindness, Christian zeal confpire,

to the Satires. Pope. Papal piety, and Gothic fire.

P. SHut, fhut the door, good John, fatigu'd by its own ruin fav'd from fame,

I said,
Eluned marble half preserves a name ; Tye up the knocker; fay I'm fick, I'm dead.

atname the learn dwith fierce disputes pursue, The Dog-star rages ! nay 'tis pa't a doubt, And give to Titus old Vespasian's due. All Bedlam, or Parnassus, is let out :

Ambition figh’d: the found it vain to trust Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand, I Tekithiefs column and the crumbling buft: They rave, recite, and madden round the land. se mnoles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore What walls can guard me, or what thades can to fhore,

hide ?

(glide; Seit rains perilhod, and their place no more! They pierce my thickets, thro' my grot they

vine'd, the now contracts hier vast delign, By land, by water, they renew the charge; and all her triumphs shrink into a coin. They stop the chariot, and they board the barge, Both her palm here fad Judea weeps. carrow orb each crowded conquest keeps ; No place is facred, not the Church is free,

Ev’n Sunday thines no Sabbath day to me: fantier limits the proud arch confine, Then from the Mint walks forth the man of Ani faree are seen the proftrate Nile or Rhine; Happy! to catch mejuft at dinner time. (rhyme, Land Small Euphrates thro' the piece is rolld, Is there a Parson, much bemus'd in beer, And little eagles wave their wings in gold. A maudlin Poetels, a rhyming Peer, The Medal, faithful to its charge of fame, A Clerk, foredoom'd his father's soul to cross, or climes and ages bears each form and

name ; Who pens a Stanza when he should engross? et kort view subjected to our eye, Is there, who, lock'd from ink and paper fcrawls Gols, emp'rors, heroes, fages, beauties, lie. Withdesp'rate charcoal round his darken'd walls

All Ay to Twit'nam, and in humble strain 'nfeription value, but the ruft adore

. Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain. This the blue varnish, that the green endears, Arthúr,

whole giddy son neglects

the laws, The lacred rust of twice ten hundred years Imputes to me and my damnd works the cause; To gain Pescennius one employs his schemes; Poor Cornus sees his

frantic wife elope ; Ore grasps a Cecrops in ecstatic dreams. And curses Wit, and Poetry, and Pope. [long poor Vadius, long with learned spleen devour'd, Friend to my Life! (which did not you pre. da talte no pleafure fince his thield was scour'd? The world had wanted many an idle long,


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What Drogs or Noftrum can this plague remove ? Destroy his fib or sophistry in vain,
Or which mult end me, a Fool's wrath or love? The creature 's at his dirty work again,
A dire dilemina! either way I'm sped; Thrond on the centre of 'his thin designs,
If foes, they write; if friends, they read me dead. Proud of a vast extent of timsy lines !
Stiz'd and tied down to judge, how wretched 1! Whom have I hurt? has Poet yet, or Peer
Who can't be silent, and who will not lie: Loft the arch'd eyebrow, or Parnaslian inee
To laugh, were want of goodness and of grace; And has not Colley still his lord, and whor
And to be grave, exceeds all pow'r of face: His butchers Henly, his free-masons Moor
I sit with fad civility, I read

Does not one table Bavius still admit? With honest anguish, and an aching heal; Still to one Bishop Philips seems a Wit? And drop at laff, but in unwilling ears, Still Sappho A. Hold, for God's fake-yo This faving counsel, keepyourpiece nineyears.' offend,

Nine years ! cries he, who high in Drury-lane, No names—be calm-learn prudence of a frie Lullid by soft Zephyrs thro' the bruken pane, I too could write, and I am twice as tall; Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before Term Butfoes like these-P.OneFlatt'rer 's worset Oblig'd by hungerand request of friends; (ends. Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are righ: • The piece, you think, is incorrect? why take it ; It is the Naver kills, and not the bite. • I am all submission, what you'd have it make it.' A fool quite angry is quite innocent:

Three things another's modest wishes bound, Alas! 'tis ten times worse when they repens My Friendship, and a Prologue, and Ten Pound, One dedicates in high heroic profe, Pitholeon tends to me: you know his Grace: And ridicules beyond a hundred foes: I want a Patron; ask him for a Place.' One from all Grub-street will my fame dete Pitholeon libellid me—but here 's a letter [ter And, more abusive, calls himself my friend • Informs you, Sir, 'twas when he knew no bet- This prints my Letters, that expects a bribe • Dare you refuse him? Curl invites to dine ; And others roar aloud, 'Subscribe, subscrib• He'll write a Journal, or he 'll turn Divine.' There are who to my person pay the court,

Bless me! a packet.-r 'Tis a stranger sues, I cough like Horace, and, tho' lean, am thon • A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Mule. Ammon's great fon one shoulder had too high; If I dislike it, . Furies, death and rage! Such Ovid's nose; and, “Sir! you have an Eye’ If I approve, Commend it to the stage.' (ends, Go on, obliging creatures, make me fee There (thank my stars!) my whole commission All that disgrac'd my Betters met in me. The players and I are, luckily, no friends. Say for my comfort, languishing in bed, Fird that the house reject him, “ 'Sdeath, I'11 · Just so immortal Maro held his head ;' • print it,

[Lintot. And when I die, be sure you let me know • And Thame the fools--Your int'rest, Šir, with Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Lintot, dull rogue ! will think your price too Why did I write! what fin to me unknown • Not, Sir, if you revise it, and retouch.' (much: Dipp'd me in ink, my parent's, or my own? All my demurs but double his attacks ; As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, At lait he wispers, 'Do; and we go fnacks.' I lilp'd in numbers, for the numbers came. Glad of a quarrel, ftraight I clap the door: I left no calling for this idle trade, Sir, let me see your works and you no more. No duty broke, no father disobey'd [Wire

'Tis lung, when Midas' ears began to spring The Muse but serv'd to ease fome Friend, no (Midas, a sacred person and a king), To help me thro' this long disease, my Life; His very Minitter who spied them first To second, Arbuthnot! thy Art and Care, (Some say his Queen) was forc'd to speak, or And teach the being you preserv'd to bear. And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case, (burst. But why then publish? Granville the polite, When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my face? And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could write; A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in dang’rous Well-natur'd Garth, infam'd with early praise

, things,

And Congreve lov'd, and Swifi endur'd my lays; I'd never name Queens, Ministers, or Kings; The courtly Talbot, Somers, Sheffield read; Keep close to Ears, and those let Affes prick, Ev'n mitred Rocbejler would nod the head; 'Tis Nothing-P. Nothing, if they bite and kick?' And St. John's self (great Dryden's friend be. Out with it, Dunciad! let the secret pass, With open arms receiv d one Poet more. (fore) That secret to each fool, that he's an Ass: [lie ? Happy my studies, when by these approvd The truth once told (and wherefore should we Happier their Author when by these belov'd! The Queen of Midas Nept, and so may I. From these the world will judge of men and You think this cruel ? take it for a rule,

books, No creature smarts so little as a fool. Not from the Burnets, Oldmixons, and Cooks. Let peals of laughter, Codrus, round thee break, Soft were my numbers, who could takeoffence

Thou unconcernd canst hear the mighty crack! While pure Description held the place ví Senie?
Pit, box, and gall'ry in convulsions hurl'd, Like gentle Fanny's was my flow'ry thieme,
Thou stand it unthuok amidit a burlting world. A painted mistrets, or a purling stream.
Who thanes a Scribbler? break one cobweb thro'Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill;
He spins ite light lelt-pleating thread anew : I wish'd the man a dinner, and lat still.



And then for mine obligingly mistakes That not for Fame, but Virtue's better en The first lampoon Sir Will or Bubo makes. He stood the furious foe, the timid friend Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but smile, The damning critic, half-approving wit, When ev'ry coxcomb knows me by my style! The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;

Curit be the verse, how well foe'er it flow, Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never ! That tends to make one worthy man my foe, The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, The diftant threats of vengeance on his to Or from the fott-ey'd virgin iteal a tear! The blow unfelt, the tear he never thed; But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace, The tale reviv'd, the lie so oft o'erthrown Infults fallen worth, or beauty in distress; Th’imputed traih and dulness not his ow Who loves a lie, lame llander helps about, The morals blacken'd when the writings Who writes a libel, or who copies out; The libellid perfon, and the pictur'd than That fop whole pride affects a patron's name, Abuse on all he lov’d, or lov'd bim, spre. Yet ablent wounds an author's honest fame; A friend in exile, or a father dead; Who can your merit selfisbly approve, The whisper that, to greatness still too nei And thow the sense of it without the love ; Perhaps yet vibrates on his Sov'reign's er Who has the vanity to call you Friend, Welcome for thee, fair Virtue! all the pati Yet wants the honour injur'at to defend; For thee, fair Virtue! welcome even the ia Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say, A. But why insult the poor, affront thes And, if he lie not, must at least betray: P. A knave 's a knave to me in ev'ry itál Who to the dean and silver bell can swear, Alike my scorn if he succeed or fail, And sees at Cannons what was never there; Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail, Who reads but with a luft to misapply, A hireling fcribbler, or a hireling peer, Make satire a lampoon, and fiction lie- Knight of the post corrupt, or of the thi: Alafh like mine no honeit man thall dread, If on a pillory, or near a throne, But all fuch babbling block heads in his itead. He gain his Prince's ear, or lose his own. Let Sporus tremble.-4. What ! that thing of Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than w tilk?

Sappbo can tell you how this man was bit : Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? This dreaded Sat’rist Dennis will contess Satire or fense, alas! can Sporus feel? Foe to his pride, bur friend to his distrels : Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel? So humble, he has knock'd at Tivali's doo

P. Yet let me tiap this bug with gilded wings, Has drunk with Cibber, nay has rhymn « This painted child of dirt, that itinks and stings; Moor. Whole buzz the witty and the tair annoys, Full ten years Nanderd, did he once reply Yet wit ne'er tuftes, and beauty ne'er enjoys : Three thousand funs went down on Ieliets So well-bred spaniels civilly delight

To please a Mistress, one aspers d his lije; In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. He lah'd him not, but let her be his witt Eternal imites his emptiness betray,

Let Budgel charge low Grubireet on his qui Asílallow streanis run dimpling all the way. And write whate'er he pleas'd, except his ! Whether in florid impotence he speaks, Let the two Curls of Town and Court ału: And as theprompter breathes,thepuppetiqueaks His father, mother, body, foul, and mule. Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,

Yet why? that Father held it for a rule, Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, It was a lin to call our neighbour fool: In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,

That harınless Mother thought no wife a vi Or ipite, or imut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. Hear this, and spare his family, James Mia His wit all fee-faw, between ibat and this;., 2 Unspotted names, and memorable long! Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himfelt one vile antithesis. 's of gentle blood (part thed in Honour's er Ainphibious thing! that acting either part, While yet in Britain Honour had applauke) The tritling head, or the corrupted heart; Each parent sprung.-A. What fortune, pray Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board,

P. Their own Now trips a lady, and now ftruts a lord. And better got than Bestia's from the throne. Eve's tempter thus the rabbins have express’d: Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife, A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest. Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife; Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust, Stranger to civil and religious rage, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust. The good man walk'd innoxious through hisa

Not fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool, No Courts be law, no Suits would ever tr}, Not lucre's madman, nor ambition's tool, Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a Lie. Not proud, nor servile; be one Poet's praise, Unlearn'd, he knew no íchoolman's fubtle af That, if be pleas'd, he pleas’d by manly ways: No language but the language of the heart.

That fiatt'ry ev'n to Kings he held a thame, By nature honest, by experience wife, And thought a lie ia verle or prose the fame : Healthy by temprance, and

by exercise ; That not in Fancy's maze he wanderd long, His life

, thoo long, to tickness pafs'd unkno* But stoop'd to Truth, and moraliz'd his song: His death was initant, and without a grosir


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