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النشر الإلكتروني

The Flatterer an Earwig grows;

Thus Worms fuit all conditions ;
Mifers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,

And Death-watches Physicians.

That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen,

By all their winding-play ;
Their Conscience is a Worm within,

That gnaws them night and day.
Ah Moore ! thy skill were well employ'd,

And greater gain would rise,
If thou could'st make the Courtier void

The Worm that never dies!

O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane,

Who feteft our entrails free? Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,

Since Worms Thall eat ev'n thee,

Our Fate thou only can'ft adjourn

Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn,

Who Maggots were before.

SONG

SONG, by a Person of Quality.

Written in the Year 1733.

I.

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Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart; I a Slave in thy Dominions;

Nature must give Way to Art.

II.
Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,

Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
See my weary Days consuming,
All beneath yon fow'ry Rocks,

III.
Thus the Cyprian Goddess weeping,

Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth;
Him the Boar in Silence creeping,

Gor’d with unrelenting Tooth,

IV.
Cynthia, tune harmonious Numbers;

Fair Discretion, fring the Lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking Slumbers:

Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir.

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Gloomy Pluto, King of Terrors, .

Arm'd in adamantine Chains, Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors, Wat’ring soft Elysian Plains.

VI, Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,

Gilding my Aurelia's Brows, Morpheus hov'ring o'er my Pillow, Hear me pay my dying Vows.

VII.
Melancholy smooth Meander,

Swiftly purling in a Round,
On thy Margin Lovers wander,
With thy flow'ry Chaplets crown'd.

VIII.
Thus when Philomela drooping,

Softly seeks her silent Mate, See the Bird of Juno stooping;

Melody resigns to Fate.

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On

On a certain LADY at COURT.

I

a

Know the thing that's most uncommon;

(Envy be filent, and attend !) I know a reasonable Woman,

Handsome and witty, yet a Friend.
Not warp'd by Paffion, aw'd by Rumour,

Not grave thro' Pride, or gay thro' Folly,
An equal mixture of good Humour,

And sensible foft Melancholy.
" Has she no faults then (Envy says) Sir?”

Yes, she has one, I must aver;
When all the World conspires to praise her,

The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.

On

On his Grotto at Twickenham,

COMPOSED OF

Marbles, Spars, Gemms, Ores, and

Minerals.

TH

a

HOU who shalt stop, where Thames' translu

cent wave
Shines a broad Mirrour thro' the shadowy Cave;
Where ling’ring drops from min'ral Roofs distill,
And pointed Crystals break the sparkling Rill,
Unpolish'd Gemms no ray on Pride bestow, 5
And latent Metals innocently glow:

VARIATIONS. After v. 6. In the MS.

You see that Illand's wealth, where, only free,

Earth to her entrails feels not Tyranny. i. e. Britain is the only place on the globe which feels not Tyranny even to its very entrails. Alluding to the condemnation of Criminals to the Mines, one of the inflictions of civil justice in most Countries. The thought was exceeding natural and proper in this place, where the Poet was describing a Grotto incrusted and adorned with all sorts of Minerals collected from the four quarters of the Globe.

NOTES. On his Grotto.] The improving and finihing this Grott was the favourite amusement of his declining Years; and the beauty of his poetic genius, in the disposition and ornaments of this romantic recess, appears to as much advantage as in his best contrived Poems. 6

Approach, ..

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