V. But if the first Eve Hard doom did receive, When only one apple had she, Shall be found out for you, Who tasting, have robbed the whole tree? EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES, ON THE PICTURE OF LADY MARY W. MONTAGU, BY KNELLER. HE playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, That happy air of majesty and truth; So would I draw (but oh! 'tis vain to try, My narrow genius does the power deny ;) TO MR. GAY, WHO HAD CONGRATULATED MR. POPE ON FINISHING HIS HOUSE AND GARDENS. A H, friend! 'tis true-this truth you lovers know In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow; In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes Of hanging mountains, and of sloping greens : To sigh unheard in, to the passing winds? TO MRS. M. B. ON HER BIRTHDAY.1 1723. H be thou blest with all that Heaven can send, Long health, long youth, long plea- Not with those toys the female world admire, 1 This poem, first published in 1726, was also altered to form an epitaph on Henry Mordaunt, nephew of the Earl of Peterborough, who committed suicide in 1724. The first four lines ran as above, and the remainder of the epitaph was as follows: If added days of life bring nothing new, If there's no hope with kind, though fainter ray, If every page of life's long volume tell The same dull story-Mordaunt ! thou didst well. But, like a sieve, let every blessing through, Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er, And all we gain, some sad reflection more; Let joy or ease, let affluence or content, TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERN,' R ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742. ESIGNED to live, prepared to die, This day Tom's fair account has run Kind Boyle, before his poet, lays A table, with a cloth of bays; 2 And Ireland, mother of sweet singers, 1 Thomas Southern, the dramatist, born 1660, died 1746. 2 He was invited to dine on his birthday with this nobleman, Lord Orrery, who had prepared for him the entertainment of which the bill of fare is here set down.-Warburton. The harp is generally wove on the Irish linen, such as table-cloths, &c.-Warburton. The feast, his towering genius marks Roast beef, though old, proclaims him stout, TO MR. JOHN MOORE,2 AUTHOR OF THE CELEBRATED WORM-POWDER. OW much, egregious Moore, are we Man is a very worm by birth, This alludes to a story Mr. Southern told of Dryden, about the same time, to Mr. P. and Mr. W. When Southern first wrote for the stage, Dryden was so famous for his prologues, that the players would act nothing without that decoration. His usual price till then had been four guineas; but when Southern came to him for the prologue he had bespoke, Dryden told him he must have six guineas for it; "which," said he, young man, is out of no disrespect to you; but the players have had my goods too cheap."-War burton. 2 First published, anonymously, in 1716. That woman is a worm-we find The learned themselves we book-worms name, The fops are painted butterflies, First from a worm they take their rise, The flatterer an ear-wig grows; Thus worms suit all conditions; Misers are muck-worms, silk-worms beaux, is seen That statesmen have the worm, Ah Moore! thy skill were well employed, If thou could'st make the courtier void O learned friend of Abchurch-lane, Our fate thou only canst adjourn ! Some few short years, no more |