A foft, beneficent, exprefslefs Grace,
With Life's most florid Bloom adorn'd his Face;
His lovely Brows Immortal Lawrel bind,
And long his radiant Hair fell down behind,
His azure Robes hung free, and waving to the Wind.
Angelick his Addrefs, his tuneful Voice
Infpir'd a thousand elevating Joys:
When thus the wond'rous Youth his Silence broke,
And with an Accent all Celestial spoke.
To Heav'n, nor longer paufe, devote thy Songs, To Heav'n the Mufe's facred Art belongs;. Let his unbounded Glory be thy Theme, Who fills th' Eternal Regions with his Fame; And when Death's fatal Sleep fhall close thine Eyes, In Triumph we'll attend thee to the Skies; We'll Crown thee there with everlasting Bays, And teach thee all our celebrated Lays. This spoke, the shining Vision upward flies, And darts as Lightning thro' the cleaving Skies.
Upon Young Mr. ROGERS of GLOCESTERSHIRE.
OF gentle Blood, his Parents only Treasure.
Their lafting Sorrow, and their vanish'd Pleasure, Adorn'd with Features, Virtues, Wit and Grace, A large Provifion for fo fhort a Race;
More mod'rate Gifts might have prolong'd his Date,
Too early fitted for a better State;
But, knowing Heav'n his Home, to fhun Delay,
He leap'd o'er Age, and took the shortest Way.
The Third ODE of ANACREON,
T dead of Night, when Stars appear,
And ftrong Boötes turns the Bear;
When Mortals fleep their Cares away,
Fatigu'd with Labours of the Day,
Cupid was knocking at my Gate;
Who's there? faid 1: Who knocks fo late,
Disturbs my Dream, and breaks my Reft
O fear not me, a harmless Gueft,
He faid; but open, open pray;
A foolish Child, I loft my Way,
And wander here this Moonlefs Night,
All Wet and Cold, and wanting Light..
With due Regard his Voice I heard,
Then rofe, a ready Lamp prepar'd,
And faw a naked Boy below,
With Wings, a Quiver, and a Bow:
In hafte I ran, unlock'd my Gate,
Secure, and thoughtless of my Fate;
I gave the Child an eafie Chair
Againft the Fire, and dry'd his Hair ;
Brought Friendly Cups of chearful Wine,
And warm'd his little Hands with mine.
All this did I with kind Intent;
But he, on wanton Mifchief bent,
Said, Dearest Friend, this Bow you see;
This pretty Bow belongs to me :
Obferve, I pray, if all be right,
I fear the Rain has fpoil'd it quite :
He drew it then, and ftraight I found
Within my Breaft a fecret Wound.
This done, the Rogue no longer ftaid,
But leap'd away, and laughing said,
Kind Hoft adieu, we now muft part,
Safe is my Bow, but fick thy Heart.
To a Lady that defign'd going to a
Fortune-Teller.
OU, Madam, may with Safety go,
Decrees of Destiny to know;
For at your Birth kind Planets reign'd,
And certain Happiness ordain'd :
Such Charms as yours are only giv'n
To chofen Favourites of Heav'n.
But fuch is my uncertain State,
'Tis dangerous to try my Fate:
For I wou'd only know from Art,
The future Motions of your Heart,
And what predeftinated Doom
Attends my Love for Years to come;
No Secrets elfe that Mortals learn
My Care deferve, or Life concern;
But this will fo important be,
I dread to fearch the dark Decree:
For while the smallest Hope remains,
Faint Joys are mingled with my Pains;
Vain diftant Views my Fancy please,
And give some intermitting Ease:
But fhou'd the Stars too plainly show
That you have doom'd my endless Woe,
No Human Force, nor Art, cou'd bear
The Torment of my wild Defpair.
This Secret then I dare not know,
And other Truths are useless now.
What matter, if unbless'd in Love,
How long or short my Life will prove?
To gratifie what low Defire,
Shou'd I with needlefs Hafte enquire,
How Great, how Wealthy I shall be?
O! what is Wealth or Pow'r to me?
If I am happy, or undone,
It muft proceed from you alone,
VERSES Written for the TOASTING-GLASSES of the KIT-KAT CLUB, in the Year 1703.
Dutchess of St. ALBANS.
By the Lord Hallifax.
HE Line of Veere, fo long renown'd in Arms, Concludes with Luftrein St. Albans Charms: Her conqu❜ring Eyes have made their Race compleat; They rofe in Valour, and in Beauty set.
Dutchess of St. ALBANS.
By L. K.
The Saints above can ask, but not bestow;
This Saint can give all Happiness below.
Lady BRIDGWATER.
By Mr. Maynwaring.
All Health to her, in whofe bright Form we find
Excefs of Charms with native Meeknefs join'd;
Whose tender Beauty fafe in Virtues Care,
Springs from a Race fo fruitful of the Fair,
That all Antiquity can boast no more;
For Venus and the Graces were but four.
Dutchess of BEAUFORT.
By the Lord Hallifax,
Offspring of a Tuneful Sire,
Bleft with more than mortal Fire;
Likeness of a Mother's Face,
Bleft with more than mortal Grace:
You with double Charms furprize,
With His Wit, and with Her Eyes,
Dutchess of BEAUFORT.
Empire the Daughter and the Sire divide,
She Reigns in Beauty Sovereign, he in Wit;
Thus as in Blood, they are in Power ally'd,
To Him our Minds, to Her our Hearts fubmit,
Dutchess of BOLTON.
By Mr. Gr-
Love's keenest Darts are charming Bolton's Care,
Which the fair Tyrant poisons with Despair.
The God of Wine the dire Effect forefees,
And fends the Juice that gives the Lover Eafe.
Dutchess of BOLTON.
By Dr. B.
Flat Contradictions wage in Bolton War!
Yet her the Toafters as a Goddess prize;
Her Whiggish Tongue does zealously declare
For Freedom, but for Slavery her Eyes.
Stampt with her reigning Charms, this StandardShall current through the Realms of Bacchus pafs; Full fraught with Beauty fhall new Flames impart, And mint her fhining Image on the Heart.
Mrs. BARTON.
Beauty and Wit ftrove each, in vain,
To vanquish Bacchus and his Train;
But Barton with fuccefsful Charms
From both their Quivers drew her Arms;
The roving God his Sway refigns,
And awfully fubmits his Vines,
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