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A neighbour's madness, or his spouse's,

Away they came, through thick and thin,
Or what's in either of the houses :

To a tall house near Lincoln's-inn:
But something much more our concern,

('T'was on the niglit of a debate,
And quite a scandal not to learn :

When all their lordships bau sate late.)
Which is the happier, or the wiser,

Behold the place, where if a poet
A man of merit, or a miser ?

Sbind in description, he might show it;
Whether we ought to chuse our friends,

Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls,
For their own worth, or our own ends?

And tips with silver all the walls ;
What good, or better, we may call,

Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
And what, the very best of all ?

Grotesco roofs, aud stucco floors :
Our friend Dan Prior told (you know)

But let it (in a word) be said,
A tale extremely “ à propos :"

The Moon was up, and men a-bed, Name a town life, and in a trice

The napkins white, the carpet red : He had a story of two mice.

The guests withdrawn had left the treat, Once on a time (so runs the fable)

And down the mice sate, "tête à tête." A country mouse, right hospitable,

Our courtier walks from disb to dish, Receiv'd a town mouse at his board,

Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish; Just as a farmer might a lord.

Tells all their names, lays down the law. A frugal mouse, upon the whole,

“ Que ça cst bon! Ah goûtez ça ! Yet lov'd his friend, and had a soul,

“ That jelly's rich, this malmsev healing, Knew what was handsome, and would do't, Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in.” On just occasion, “ coûte qui coûte.”

Was ever such a happy swain? He brought himn bacon (nothing lean);

He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again. Pudding, that might bave pleas'd a dean; “ I'm quite asham'd-'tis mighty rude Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,

To eat so much—but all's so good. But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;

I have a thousand thanks to give Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,

My lord alone knows how to live.”' He eat himself the rind and paring.

No sooner said, but from the hall Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,

Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all : But show'd his breeding and his wit;

“ A rat, a rat! clap to the door"He did his best to seein to eat,

The cat comes honncing on the floor. And cry'd, “ I vow you're mighty neat.

() for the heart of Homer's mice, But Lord, my friend, this savage scene !

Or godis to save them in a tricc! For God's sake, come, and live with men : (It was by Providence they think, Consider, mice, like rnen, must die,

For your damn'd stucco has no chink.) Both small and great, both you and I:

“ An't please your honour," quoth the peasant, Then spend your life in joy and sport;

This same dessert is not so pleasant :
(This doctrine, friend, I learn'd at court.)" Give me again my hollow tree,
The veriest hermit in the nation

A crust of bread, and liberty!"
May yield, God knows, to strong temptation.
Legibus insanis : seu quis capit acria fortis

Pocula ; seu modicis uvescit lætius. ergo
Sermo oritur, non de villis domibusve alienis, [nos
Nec male necne Lepos saltet : sed qnod magis ad Again? new tumults in my breast ?
Pertinet, et nescire malum est, agitamus; utrumne

Ah spare me, Venus ! let me, let me rest !
Divitiis homines, an sint virtute beati :

Agrestem pepulere, domo levis exsilit: inde Quidve ad amicitias, usus rectumne, trahat nos:' Ambo propositum peragunt iter, urbis aventes Et quæ sit natura boni, summumque quid ejus. Mænia nocturni subreperi. jamque tenebat Cervius hæc inter vicinus garrit aniles

Nox meiljum cæli spatium, cuin ponit uterque Ex re fabellas. si quis nam laudat Arelli

In locuplete domo restigia : rubro ubi cocco Solicitas ignarus opes; sic incipit : Olim

Tincta suros lectos candoret vestis eburnos ; Rusticus urbanum morem mus paupere fertur Multuque de magna superessent fercula cerna, Accepisse cavo, veterem vetus hospes amicum; Nur procul extructis inerant hesterra canistris. Asper, et attentus qua:sitis; ut tamen aretum Ergo ubi purruren porrectum in veste locavit Solveret hospitiis animuin, quid multa?

Agresten ; veluti surcinctus cnrsitat hospes, Sepositi ciceris, nec longæ invidit avenæ :

Continuatque dapes: rce non verniliter ipsis Ariduni et ore ferens acinun, semesaque lardi Finncitur ofliiis pralambens omne quod affert. Frusta dedit, cupiens raria fastidia cæna

Mlle cubans gau:let mutata sorte, bonisque Vincere tangentis male singula dente superbo : Rebus atit lartum conrivam: cum subito ingens Cum pater ipse domus palea porrectus in horna Valvarum strepitus lectis excussit utrumque. Esset ador loliumqne, Jap.is meliora relinquens. Currere per totum paridi conclave; magisque Tandern urbanus ad hunc; quid te jurat, inquit, Exanimes trepilare, simul domus alta molossis Prærupti nemoris patientem vivere dorso? Camice, | Personuit canibus. tum rusticus, llaud mihi vita Vin' tu homines urbemque feris præponere sylvis Est opus hac, ait, et valens : me sylva, carusque Carpe viam (mihi crede) comes: terrestria quando Tutus ab insidiis tenui solabitur crvo. Mortales animas vivunt sortita, neque ulla est, Aut magno aut parvo, leti fuga, quo, bone, circa, Dum licet, in rebus jucundis vire beatus : INTERMISSA. Venus, diu Vive mcmor quam sis ævi brevis. Hæc ubi dicta

Rursus bella moves i parce precor, precor.

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I am not now, alas! the map

Thee, dress'd in Fancy's airy heam,
As in the gentle reign of my queen Anne.

Absent I follow through th' extended dreams Ah sound no more thy soft alarıns,

Now, now I cease, I clasp thy charms,
Nor circle sober fifty with thy charıns!

And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms ! Mother too fierce of dear desires !

And swiftly shoot along the Mall,
'Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton fires. Or softly glide by the canal.
To munber five direct your doves, I loves; Now shown by Cynthia's silver ray,

Th re spread round Murray all your blooining And now on rolling waters snatch'd away.
Noble and young, who strikes the heart
With every sprightly, every decent part;

Cur facunda parum dccoro
Equal, the injur'd to defend,

Inter verba cadit lingua silentio ?
To charm the mistress, or to fix the friend. Nocturnis te ego somnjis
He, with a hunired arts refin'd,

Jam captum teneo. jam volucrem sequor
Shall stretch thy conquests over half the kind! Te per gramina Martii
To him each rival shall submit,

Campi, te per aquas, dure, volubiles.
Make but his riches equal to his wit.
Then shall thy form the marble grace,

(Thy Grecian forin) and Chloe lend the face; PAR: OF THE NINTH ODE OF THE FOURTH His house, embosom'd in the grove,

Sacred to social life and social love,

Shall glitter o'er the pendant green,

Where Thames reflects the visionary scene : Lest you should think that verse shall die,
Thither the silver-sounding lyres

Which sounds the silver Thames along,
Shall call the smiling Loves, and young Desires ; | Taught on the wings of Truth to fly
There, every Grace and Muse shall throng,

Above the reach of vulgar song ;
Exalt the dance, or animate the song ;

Though daring Milton sits sublime,
There youths and nyınphs, in consort gay,
Shall hail the rising, close the parting day.

In Spenser native Mises play ;

Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
With me, alas ! those joys.are o'er;

Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay“
For me the vernal garlands bloom no more.
Adieu ! fond hope of mutual tire,

Sages and chiefs long since had birth
The still-believing, still renew'd desire;

Ere Cæsar was, or Newton nam'd;
Adieu ! the heart-expanding bowl,

Then rais'd new empires o'er the Earth,
And all the kind deceivers of the soul!

Aud those, new licavcus and systems fram'd, But why? ah tell me, ah too dear!

Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! Steals down iny cheek th' involuntary tear ? They had no poet, and they died : Why words so Nowing, thoughty so free,

iu valu they schem'd, in vain they bled ! Stop, or turn nonseuse, at one glauce of thee? They had no puet, and are dead. Non sum qualis eram bona

Sub regno Cynaræ. desine,dulcium
Mater sæva Cupidinum,

Circa lustra decom flectere mollibus
Jam durum imperiis : abi
Quo blandie juvenum te revocant preces.

Tempestivins in donmım
Paulli, purpureis ales oloribus,

Cornmissabere Maxiini;

Si torrere jecur quaris idoneun,
Namque et noiilis, et decens,

Yes, I beh id ti' Athenian queen
Et pro solicitis non tacitus reis,

Discend in all her suber charms;
Et centum puer artium,

and take" (sic said, and sinil'd serene) Late signa feret militiæ tuæ.

“ Take at this hand celestial artis. Et, quandoque potentior Largis muneribus riscuit æmuli,

Ve forte credas interitura, qur
Albanos prope te lacuis

Louge sonanten natus ad Autidum
Ponet marmoreain sub trale citrea.

Son unle vulgatas per artes
Dlic plurima naribus

Verba loquor socianda chordis;
Duces thura; lyraque et Berecynthia

Non, si priori's Mironies tinet
Delectaberk tibia

Sedes Humerus. l'indarira latent
Mixtis carminibus, non sine listula.

Coque, el lleai ininces
mlic bis pueri ule

Stesichorique graves Camenæs
Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum
Laudantes, pede candido

Nee si quid olin lusit Anacreon,
In mori.in Suliuin dit quatient bunim,

Dudevit irtas: spirat adhuc amor,
Me nec fiinma, nee pilet

livell'que comunissi caloro

Foliq idibus puella.
Jain, Dees aniini crtidula mutui,
Mir Crtarr insat imeto,

lises tortes ante venena
dre vin ire voris templa fl ribus.

Multi; sed omnes illacrvaatides
Sed cur, hru' Turion, l'ur

Lrgeniur innuiique longa
Manat rara meds lucryina per zenas:

lucci, Cariat quid Fule sacro:

When interest calls off all her sneaking train,
And all th' oblig'd desert, and all the vain ;
She waits, or to the scaffold, or the cell,
When the last lingering friend has bid farewell.
Ev'n now she shades thy evening-walk with bays
(No hireling she, no prostitute to praise);
Ev'n now, observant of the parting ray,
Fyes the calm sun-set of thy various day,
Through Fortune's cloud one truly great can see
Nor fears to tell, that Mortimer is he.


* Secure the radiant weapons wield;

This golden lance shall guard desert, And if a vice dares keep the field,

This steel shall stab it to the heart." Aw'd, on my bended knees I fell,

Recejv'd the weapons of the sky; And dinp'd them in the sable well,

The fount of fame or infamy. • What well? what weapon ?” (Flavia cries)

“A standish, steel and golden pen!
It came from Bertrand's, not the skies;

I gave it you to write again.
But, friend, take heed whom you attack;

You'll bring a house (I mean of peers) Red, blue, and green, nay white and black, J

and all about your ears. “ You'd write as smooth again on glass,

And run, on ivory, so glib, As not to stick at fool or ass,

Nor stop at flattery or fib. Athenian queen! and sober charms!

I tell you, fool, there's nothing in't : Tis Venus, Venus gives these arms;

In Dryden's Virgil see the print. " Come, if you'll be a quiet soul,

That dares tell neither truth nor lies, I'll list you in the harmless roll

Of those that sing of these poor eyes."

JAMES CRAGGS, ES2. SECRETARY OF STATE IN THE YEAR 1720. A Soul as full of worth, as void of pride, Which not

ing seeks to shos or needs to hide; Which nor to guilt, nor fear, its caution owes, And boasts a warmth that from no passion flows : A face untaught to feign ; a judging eye, That darts severe upon a rising lie, And strikes a blush through frontless flattery : All this thou wert; and being this before, Know, kings and fortune cannot make thee more. Then scorn to gain a friend by servile ways, Nor wish to lose a foe these virtues raise ; But candid, free, sincere, as you began, Proceed--a minister, but still a man. Be not (exalted to whate'er degree) Asham'd of any friend, not ev'n of me: The patriot's plain, but untrod, path pursue ; If not, 'tis I must be asham'd of you.






RETREAT INTO THE COUNTRY, IN THE YEAR 1721. Sucu were the notes thy once-lov'd poet sung, Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mourn'd ! With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd! Blest in each science, blest in every strain ! Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear-in vain ! For him, thou oft hast bid the world attend, Fond to forget the statesman in the friend; For Swift and him, despis'd the farce of state, The sober follies of the wise and great; Dextrous, the craving, fawning crowd to quit, And pleas'd to 'scape from flattery to wit.

Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear,
(A sigh the absent claims, the dead a tear)
Recall those nights that clos’d thy toilsome days,
Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays,
Who, careless now of interest, fame, or fate;
Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great ;
Or, deeming meanest what we greatest call,
Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall.

And sure, if anght below the seats divine
Can touch immortals, 'tis a soul like thine :
A soul supreme, in each bard instance try'd,
Above all pain, and passion, and all pride,
The rage of power, the blast of public breath,
The lust of lucre, and the dread of Death.

In vain to deserts thy retreat is made;
The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade:
"Tis ber's, the brave mau s latest steps to trace,
Re-ju Ige his acts, and digoify disgrace.


OF PAINTING. This Epistle, and the two following, were written

some years before the rest, and originally printed

in 1717. This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This, from no venal or ungrateful Muse. Whether thy hand strike out some free design, Where life awakes, and dawns at eyery line ; Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mass, And from the canvass call the minic face: Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire Fresnoy's close art, and Dryden's pative tire : And reading wish, like theirs, our fate and fame, So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our name ; Like them to shine through long succeeding age, So just thy skill, so regular my rage.

Smit with the love of sister-arts we caine, And met congenial, mingling Aame with fame; Like friendly colours found them both unite, And each from each contract new strength and light, How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the day, While summer-suns roll unperceiv'd away! How oft our slowly growing works in part, While images reflect from art to art ! How oft review; each fineling like a friend Something to blame, and something to comiend! Wbat flattering scenes our wandering fancy

wrought, Rome's pumpous glories rising to our thought!

Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,

His heart, his mistress and his friend did share ; Fir'd with ideas of fair Italy.

His time, the Muse, the witty and the fair.
With thee on Raphael's monument I mourn,' Thus wisely careless, innocently gay,
Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's urn:

Cheerful he play'd the trifle, life, away;
With thee repose, where Tully once was laid, Till Fate, scarce felt, bis gentle breath supprest,
Or seck some ruin's formidable shade :

As siniling infants sport themselves to rest. While Fancy brings the vanish'd piles to view, Ev'n rival wits did Voiture's death deplore, And builds imaginary Rome anew.

And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before ; Here thy well-studied marbles fix our eye ;

The truest hearts for Voiture heav'd with sighs, A falling fresco here demands a sigh :

Voiture was wept by all the brightest eyes: Each heavenly piece unwearied se compare,

The Smiles and Loves had died in Voiture's death, Match Raphael's grace with thy lord Guillo's air, But that for ever in his lines they breathe. Carracci's strength, Correggio's softer line,

Let the strict life of graver mortal be Paulo's free stroke, and Titian's warmth divine. A long, exact, and serious comedy ;

How finish'd with illustrious toil appears In every scene some moral let it teach, This small, well-polish'd gem, the work of years ! And, if it can, at once both please and preach. Yet still how faint bị precept is express'd

Let mine, an innocent gay farce appear, The living image in the painter's breast !

And more diverting still than regular, Thence endless streams of fair ideas fiow,

Have humour, wit, a native ease and grace, Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow; Though not too strictly bound to time and place : Thence Beauty, waking all her forms, supplies

Critics in wit, or life, are hard to please ; Au angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes.

few write to those, and none can live to these Muse! at that name thy sacred sorrows shed, Too much your sex are by their forms confin'd, Those tears eternal that embalm the dead; Severe to all, but most to womankind; Call round her tomb cach object of desire,

Custom, grown blind with age, must be your guide; Each purer frame inform'd with purer tire :

Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride ; Bid her be all that cheers or softens life,

By nature yielding, stubborn but for fame; The tender sister, daughter, friend, and wife: Made slaves by honour, and made fools by shame. Bid her be all that makes mankind adore;

Marriage may all those petty tyrants chase, Then view this marble, and be rain ro more! But sets np one, a greater, in their place. Yet still her charms in breathing paint engage;

Well might you wish for change by those accurst, Her modest cheek shall warm a future age.

But the last tyrant ever proves the worst. Beauty, frail flower that every season fears,

Still in constraint your suffering sex remains, Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years.

Or bound in forthal, or in real chains : Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprise, Whole years neglected, for some months ador'd, And other beauties envy Worsley's (yes;

The fawning servant turns a haughty lord. Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow, Ah, quit not the free innocence of life, And soft Belinda's blush for ever çlow.

For the dull glory of a virtuous wife ; Oh, lasting as those colours may they shine,

Nor let false shows, nor empty titles please : Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line ; Aim not at joy, but rest content with ease. New graces yearly like thy works display,

The gods, to curse Pamela with her prayers, Soft without weakness, without glaring gay ;

Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares, led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains ; The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And finish'd more through happiness than pains ! And, to complete her bliss, a fool for mate. The kindred arts shall in their praise conspire,

She glares in balls, front boxes, and the ring, One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. A vain, unquiet, glittering, wretched thing! Ytt should the Graces all thy figures place,

Pride, pomp, and state, but reach herontward part; And breathe an air divine on erery face;

She sighs, and is no dutchess at her heart. Yet svould the Muses bid my numbers roll

But, madam, if the Fates withstand, and you Strong as their charms, and gentle as their soul; Are destin'd Hymen's willing victim too; With Zeuxis' Helen thy Brilgewater vie,

Trust not too much your now resistless charms, And these be sung till Granville's Myra die : Those, age or sickness, soon or late disarms: Alas! how little from the grave we claim !

Good-humour only teaches charms to last,
Thou but preserv'st a face, and I a name.

Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past;
Love, rais'd on beauty, will like that decay,
Our bearts may bear its slender chain a day;.
As fluwery bands in wantonness are worn,
A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn;

This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong,

The willing heart, and only holds it long.

Thus Voiture's early care still shone the same, WITH THE WORKS OF VOITURE.

And Monthausier was only chang'd in name; In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces shine, By ibis, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm, And all the writer lives in every line:

Their wit still sparkling, and their ilames still warm. His easy art may happy nature seem,

Now crown'd with myrtle, on th' Elysian coast, Trifies themselves are clegant in him,

Amid those lovers, joys his gentle ghost : Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate,

Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines you view, Who without Mattery pleas'd the fair and great ; And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you. Still with esteem no less convers'd than read; With wit well-natyr'd, and with books well-bred :

! Mademoiselle Paulets,


The brightest eyes in France inspir'd his Muse;
The brightest eyes in Britain now peruse;
And dead, as living, 'tis our author's pride
Still to chasm those who charm the world beside.

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The basset table spread, the tallier come;

Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room? ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN' AFTER THE CORONATION, Rise, pensive nymph ; the tallier waits for you. 1715.

As soine fond virgin, wborn her mother's care Ah, madam, since my Sharper is untrue,
Drags from the town to wholesome country air, I joyless make my once ador'd alphiew.
Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,

I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair,
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh; And whisper with that soft, deinding air,

[fair. From the dear man unwilling she must sever,

And those feign'd sighs which cheat the listening Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever : Thus from the world fair Zephalinda few, Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;

Is this the cause of your romantic strains ? Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent,

A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains. She sigb’d, not that they stay'd, but that she

As you by Love, so I by Fortune cross'd; went,

One, one bad deal, three septlevas have lost. She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks, Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking

Is that the grief, which you compare with mine? rooks:

With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign:
She went from opera, park, assembly, play,
To morning-walks, and prayers three hours a-day; Were lovely Sharper inine, and mine alonc.

Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone,
To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,
To muse, and spill her solitary tea ;
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,

À lover lost, is but a common care ;
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;

And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,

Thę knave of clubs thrice lost : Oh! who could Hum half a tune, tell stories to the 'squire ;

guess Up to her godly garret after seven,

This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress?
There starve and pray, for that's the way to Heaven.
Some 'squire, perhaps, you take delight to

See Betty Lovet! very à propos,
Whose game is whist, whose treat a toast in sack : She all the cares of love and play does know :
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds, (words!” Dear Betty shall th' important point decide ;
Then gives a smacking buss, and cries, "No Betty, who oft the pain of each has try'd :
Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the Impartial, she shall say who suffers most,

By cards, ill-usage, or by lovers lost.
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are

Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay,
And loves you best of all things--but his horse. Though time is precious, and I want some tea.

In some fair evening, on your elbow laid, You dream of triumphs in the rural shade ; In pensive thought recall the fancy'd socne,

Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, See coronations rise on every green ;

With fifty guineas (a great pen'worth) bought. Before you pass th’imaginary sights

See, on the tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive; Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter'd knights, and both the struggling figures seem alive. While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes ; Upon the bottom shines the queen's bright face : Then give one flirt, and all the vision fies.

A myrtle foilage round the thimble-case; Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, Jove, Jove himself does on the scissars shine ; And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! The metal, and the workmanship, divine !

So when your slave, at some dcar ijle time, Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, This snuff-box, once the pledge of Sharper's And while he seems to study, thinks of you :

love, Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,

When rival beauties for the present strove ;
Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,

At Corticelli's he the raffle won;
Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite, Then first his passion was in public shown :
Streets, chairs, and coxcombs, rush upon my Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside,

A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow,

This snuff-box, on the hinge see brilliants shine! Look sour, and hum a tune, as you may now.

This snuff-box will I stake; the prize is mire.





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