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His spirit doubled, and his cloak beside,
By Prior. .
Venus stood bathing in a river;
Cupid a-shooting wear that way, But this, alas ! injurious fate denied,
New strung his bow, new fill'd his quiver, For Fristao poorer than a prophet died. With skill he chose his sharpest dart; To Quinault thus the bard, expiring, spoke: With all his might his bow he drew: "My wit I leave thee-but I have no cloak." Sevift to his beauteous parent's heart
The too well guided arrow flew.
I faint! I diel the goddess cried :
O cruel! couldst thou find none other
To wreak thy spleen on, parricide?
Like Nero, thou hast slain thy mother.
Indeel, Mamma, I did not know ye;
I took you for your likeness, Chloe.
From the Greek. PRIOR.
Venus, take my votive glasa:
Since I am not what I was;
What from this day I shall be,
Venus, let me never see!
Fair Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain : Written on a Glass, by a Gentleman who lor. Like Phæbus sung the no less am'rous boy;
rowed the Earl of Chesterfield's Diamond Like Daphne she, as lovely and as coy.
[writ! With numbers such as Phæbus' self might use; Sce two dull lines by Stanhope's. pencil All but the nymph who should redress his
wrong, Attend his passion, and approve his song: On Lady Manchester. ADDISON. Like Phæbus thus acquiring unsought praise, Whilst haughty Gallia's dames, that spread He catch dat love, and fill d his aims with bays. Oer the pale cheeks an artful red,
Beheld this beauteous stranger there,
In native charms divinely fair
Confusion in their looks they show'd,
And with unusual blushes glowd.
His spouse is in despair:
Suicide Dr. Sewel.
The coward sneaks to death, the brave
live on. Pour Simon lears that he shall die, His wife-iliat he may live.
Young Courtly takes me for a dance; Written on the Bed-chamler Daor of Charles II. For all night long I spoke not once:
ROCHESTER. On heiter grounds I ibink him such :
He spoke but once, yet once too much.
Muse,'tis enough at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live—for Buckingham To Phyllis.
Let crouds of critics now my verse assail, Tkat little patch upon your face
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail; Would seem a foil on one less fair; This more than pays whole years of thankless On you it hides a killing grace,
pain, And you in piiy placd it there,
Time, health, and fortunc are not lost in rain, 3 G 4
Shellield approves, consenting Phoebus hends, Some rais'd aloft come tumbling down amain, And I and malice from this hour are friends. And fall so hard, they bound and riseagain..
On a certain Beauty
The Manchester Millers named Bone and Shie. MUST ISTAKEN nature here has join'd
BYROX. A beauteous face and ugly mind; Bo
ONE and Skin, two millers thin, In vain the faultless features strikeij
us , : When soul and body are unlike :
But be it known to Skin and Bone
That flesh and blood can't bear it.
By Sir G. LYTTLETON.
TONE without hope e'er lor'd the brightrst With secret venom bloated swells,
fair, Weaves all his fatal nets within,
But lore can hope where reason would despair. As unsuspected as unseen..
Trye wit is like the brilliant stone
Dur from the Indian mine;
Which boasts two diffrent pow'ss in one, That Lyce painted; should they flee,
To cut as well as shine. Like simple birds, into a net
Genius, like that, if polish'd right,
With the same gifis abounds;
And sparkles while it wounds.
The Difference. lxctween the Ancier's ad
Moderns. dre disabus'd when first she gapes : The rotten bones discover'd'there,
for the ancients zealously declare, Shew 'ris a painted sepulchre.
Others our modern wits are fools, arer:
And differ only as to time and name:
Yet sure one inore distinction may be told, DEPEND not upon verse for fame,
Those once were new,but these will ne'er be . Tho' none can equaithine : Our language never rests the same; 'Twill rise, or 't will decline.
To Mr. Pope on his Epitaph on Mr. Ger. Thy wreaths, in course of Riceting hours,
Lord ORRARI Too soon will be decay'd; But story lasts, though modern flow'rs EN
NTOMR'D with kings tho' Gay's cold aste
lie, Of poetry inust Pade.
A nobler monument thy strains supply: A surer way then wouldst thou find Thy glory to prolong,
Thy matchless muse, still faithful to thy frien Whilst there reinains amongst mankind
By courts unawd, his virtues dares commit
Lámented Gay! forget thy treatment pasi, The sense of right and wrong? Thy fame with nature's self shall end,
Look down, and see iby nizrit crown'd at las Let future times but know
A destiny more glorious who can hope!
In life belor'd, in death.bemoan'd, by Pope. That Atterbury was thy friend, And Bentley was thy foe.
On the Queen's Grotto at Richmond.
L or is the living genius fed,
And rais'd the scientific head;
Raises those heads which cannot eat.
hearn last week, friend Edward, thou waki
I'm very glad to hear it too, cries Xed. Wridlen in a Window of the Tower, over the Name of R. byalpole, confined in the same Friend Isaac, 'tis strange, you, that live so
, din. Dom. LOOD'unexpected, evil unforeseen,
Should not set up the sign of the Vicar; Appearsá by turns, as fortune shifts the Tho' it may be an odd one, you cannot but say
It must needs be a sign of good liguor.
.:15 Irr. Answer
Our thoughts are settled, and intent our look syprien, Master Poet, your reason's but poor : On female idleness bis power relies,
On the instructive vorse and moral book; For the Vicar would think it a sin stay, like a booby, and lounge at the door;
But when he finds us siudying hard he fies. Twere a sign 'twas bad liquor within.
By AARON HILL ya Porter, on the Gin Act. To a Grcal Man. When Christ at Cana's feast,' by now's
dirine, Vur will you make us cooly think? If you would govern, we must drink.
Inspir'd cold water with the warmth of winte, See! cried they, while in reddining tide it gush'd,
hlash'd: Giles Jolt.
The bashful stream hath seen its iad and TILES JOLT as sleeping in his cart he lay, Some waggish pilt'rers stole his team away.
By AARON HILL les wakes, and cries-What's here? Odsdickin! what?
TENDER-handed stroke a naile, hy how now? ani I Giles, or am I not?
And it stings you for your pains ; he, I've lost six geldings, to my smart;
Grasp it like a man of mettle, not-odsbuddikins! I've found a cart.
And it soft as silk remzius.
Use 'em kindly, they rebel ;
And the rogues obey you well.
Upon the Busts of the finglish Forthiesa Sims.
AMONG these chicfs of British race,
Who live in breathing stone,
Why has not Cobhani's bost a place? Greece, Italy, and England did adorn:
- The structure was his own. first in lofliness of thought surpass'd; ; next in majesty, in both the last.
By Pope. force of nature could no farther go! make a third, she join'd the other two. GREAT Villers
" fate sage Cutler could fuseser; And well, he thoughi, advis'd him-“Live
“ like me." he Duchess of Marlborough's Offer of 5007. As well his Grace replied Like you, Sir on the best Poem on the Duke s Actions.
Joho! re hundred pounds! too small a boon “ That I can do when all I have is gorje." To put the poet's musc in tone,
That nothing might escape her; ald she atienipt th' heroic story
The Giant angling he illustrious Churchill's glory, His angle rod made of a sturdy cal:, [broke It scarce would buy the paper.
His line a cable, which in storius pc'er
His hook he bailed with a dragon's tail,
And sat upon a rock, and bobbid for whale. Caiy been a Scot, God would havealter'd his doom;
To a noted lint. forc'd him to wander, but contin'd hiin
le on! while my revenge sball.be
To speak the very truth of thee. 31 By PRIOR. us to the Muses spoke the Cyprian dame: On Michael Angely's famous Piece of the Cowa Adorn my altars, and revere my name;
rifixion, who stubled a Person that he mighi son shall else assume his potent darts,
do it more naturally, Dr. YOUNG ng goes the bow! my girls, have at your W.111.9This Rederminer on the cártass dins
Stabbt at his feet his Btother welt'ring Muses answer'd-Venus, a'e deride The daring artist, c: nelly serene,
[lits; vagrant's malice, and his mother's pride. Views the pale cheth, and the distorted tien; him to nvinphs who sleep in Ida's shade, i Fe' drains off Life by drops a and, deaf to cries, he loose dauce and warzon tasquerade : Esaurin,s ev'ry spiritas li dies;
He studies torment, dires in mortal woe, To Mr. Addison, on his Tragedy of Cato.
Tak mind to virtue is by verse subdud,
And the true poet is a public good. O glorious theft! O nobly wicked draught! With its full charge of death each feature In Rome had you espous'd the ranquish'd cause,
Her free-born sons to glorious thoughts are word fraught!
Inflam'd her senate, and upheld her laws, Such wondrous force the magic colours boast, Your manly scenes had liberty restord, From his own skill he starts, in horror lost. And given ibe just success to Cato's sword,
O'er Cæsar's arms your zenius had prevac. On the Death of a Lady's Cat. HARRISON.
And the muse triumph'd where the panik
faild. AND is Miss Tabby from the world retird?
Andare her lives, all her nine lires, expir'd? What sounds so moring, as her own, can tell Tom's coach and six !--whither in such hase How Tabby died, how full of play she fell?
going? Begin, ye tuneful nine, a mournful strife,
But a short journes-to his own undoing. And ev'ry muse shall celebrate a life.
Whostill is seeking what he would notti Two or three dears, and two or three sweets ;
Two or three balls, and two or three treats ; Two or three serenades, giv'n as a lure;
By Leonard W'ELSTEAD. Two of three oaths how much they endure; I was sors Thomas, much to Peter's care
Once only : Two or three times led out from the play; True, Thomas; hence your fortunes take a Two or three soft speeches made by the way;
By Dr. Keyrick.
His sacred person none will dare profine; Your homely face, Flippanta, you disguise
He may be poor, but never can be mean. I own that patching's requisite for you, (view: He holds his ralue with the wise ued goo, For more we're pleas’d the less your face we
And, prostrate, seems as great as when hes Yet I advise, since my advice you ask,
So ruin'd temples holy awe dispense, Wear but one patch, and he that paich a mask. They lose iheir height, but keep their reveren
The pious crowd the piles, tho' fali'n, dk,
And what they fail to raise they still ader. Inscription for a Bust of Lady Suffolk in a Wood. Victrix Causa Diis placuit, sed rire les
G, STEHTY HER wit and beauty for a court were inale, Her truth and goodness fit her for a shade. The gods and Cato did in this divide
They chose the conqu’ring, he the cong
side, By Lady 11. W. MONTAGU:
By Dean Swift. Whilst thirst of praise and vain desire of
You beat your pate, and fancy wit will coIn ev'ry age is ev'ry woman's aim;
Knock as you will, there's nobody at hr. With courtship pleas'd, of silly toasters proud, Fond of a train, and happy in a crowd; Oo each poor fool bestowing some kind glance,
A Flower by Varelst. Prior. Each conguest owing to some loose advance; When fam'a Varelst this little wonder it. While vain coquets affect to be pursu'd, Flora vouchsaf'd the growing work torx And think they're virtuous, if not grosslv lewd; Finding the painter's science at a stard, Let this great maxin benyvirme's guide The Goddess snatch'd the pencil from his ha In part she is to blame thailus been tried; And, finishing the piece, she smiling and Fie comes too near, thatcones to be dcuied: S Bold one work of mine that ne'er Sulli
By Sir Sam, Garth.
I rode four more to Great St. Mary,
Using four legs, when two were weary.
In the close bands of pleasing Hymen;
I dipp'd two babes in holy water, Or the drops that in the morn
And purified thcir mothers after. Hang with transparent pearl the thorn;
Within an hour and cke an half, Or bridegroom's joys, or miser's cares,
I preach'd three congregations deaf, Or gamester's oaths, or hermit's prayers ;
Whule thund'ring out with lungs long winded, Orenvy's pangs, or love's alarms,
I chopp'd so fast that few there minded. Or Marlbro's acts, or Molly's charms?
My emblem, the laborious sun,
Saiv all these imighty labours done
Before one race of his was run:
All this performn'd by Robert Hewit;
The Miser's Feast.
chimney smokes! it is some omen dire! Silently strong, and its deep bottom hides. His neighbours are alarm'd; and cry out,
Fire! The Royal Knotter. Sir CH. SEDLEY. A", happy people! ye must thrive, : On Sir Godfrey Kneller's painting, for the While thus the royal pair does strive Author, the Statues of Apollo, Venus, and Both to advance your glory;
Wben Kneller painted these? [Love, And makes thread-fringes for ye. Blest we! who from such queens are freed,
'Twas friendship-warm as Phæbus, kind as
And strong as Hercules.
Are always tellung beads:
The Dihe of Ch. Swift.
Tamis B-swas the Dean's familiar friend; Is always knotting threads. Then haste, victorious Nassau, haste;
James grows a Duke; their friendship here Ind, when thy summer show is past,
must end. Let all thy trumpets sound:
Surely the Dean deserves a sore rebuke, The fringe which this campaign has brought, From knowing James, to say he knows a duke. l'hough 't cosi the nation scarce a groai, Thy conquests will surround.
The Doctor and the Patient.
SLEPT you well! “Very well.” My draught What's Ilonour ? Tot to be captious, not unjustly fight;
" It did no harm: for yonder it hath stood." Tis to confess what's wrong, and do what's right.
Verses occasioned ly Mr. Aikman's death.
s those we love decay, wc die in part, For he sees more than all the world beside. Till loosen'd life, at last but breathing clay,
Without one pag, is glad to fall asvay.
Unhappy he who latest feels the blow, [low, By PRIOR.
Whose eyes have wept o'er every friend laid Es, ev'ry poet is a fool;
Draggd líng'ring on from partial death to death, By demonstration Ned can show it: Till, dying, all he can resign is breath. Happy, could Ned's inverted rule Prove ev'ry fool to be a poet.
To the Reverend Mr. Mardoch, Rector of Strad
dishall, in Suffolk. THONSON. Dean Swift's Curate. I MARCH'd three miles thro
' scorching sand, Tussafely low, my friend, thou caust not With zeal in heart, and notes in hand; Here reigns a deep tranquillity o'er all;