EPIGRAM S,

EPITAPH S,

AND

FRAGMENT S.

Under a LADY'S

SUCH

PICTURE.

UCH Helen was! and who can blame the boy
That in fo bright a flame confum'd his Troy?

But, had like virtue shin'd in that fair Greek,
The amorous fhepherd had not dar'd to feek,
Or hope for pity; but, with filent moan,
And better fate, had perifhed alone.

Of a Lady who writ in Praife of MIRA.

WHILE the pretends to make the graces known

matchlefs Mira, the reveals her own:

And, when she would another's praife indite,
Is by her glafs inftructed how to write.

* Paris.

To

SINCE

To one married to an old Man.

INCE thou wouldst needs (bewitch'd with some ill chaims!)

Be bury'd in those monumental arms;

All we can with, is-May that earth lie light
Upon thy tender limbs! and fo good night!

W

On a Painted LADY with ill Teeth.

ERE men fo dull they could not fee
That Lycé painted; fhould they flee,

Like fimple birds, into a net,
So grofsly woven, and ill-fet?
Her own teeth would undo the knot,
And let all go that she had got.
Those teeth fair Lycé must not show,
If fhe would bite: her lovers, though
Like birds they stoop at seeming grapes,
Are difabus'd when firft fhe gapes :
The rotten bones difcover'd there,
Shew 'tis a painted fepulchre.

EPIGRAM UPON THE GOLDEN MEDAL.

0°

UR guard upon the royal fide!

On the reverse, our beauty's pride!

Here we difcern the frown and fmile;
The force and glory of our Ile.

In the rich Medal, both fo like
Immortals ftand, it feems antique;
Carv'd by fome master, when the bold
Greeks made their Jove defcend in gold;
And Danaë wondering at that shower,
Which, falling, ftorm'd her brazen tower.
Britannia there, the Fort in vain
Had batter'd been with golden rain:
Thunder itself had fail'd to pafs;
Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.

Written on a Card that her MAJESTY tore at OMBRE.

T

HE cards you tear in value rife;

So do the wounded by your eyes.

Who to celestial things aspire,

Are by that paffion rais'd the higher.

To Mr. GRANVILLE, (afterwards Lord LANSDOWN) on his Verses to K. JAMES II.

A

N early plant! which fuch a blossom bears, And fhews a genius fo beyond his years; A judgment that could make fo fair a choice; So high a fubject, to employ his voice:

Still as it grows, how fweetly will he fing

The growing greatnefs of our matchless King!

Q. Catharine.

LONG

CIR

LONG AND SHORT LIFE.

IRCLES are prais'd, not that abound
In largeness, but th' exactly round:

So, life we praife, that does excel

Not in much time, but acting well.

TRANSLATED OUT OF SPANISH.

HOUGH we may seem importunate, While your compaffion we implore: They, whom you make too fortunate, May with prefumption vex you more.

TRANSLATED OUT OF FRENCH.

FADE, flowers, fade; nature will have it fo;

'Tis but what we must in our autumn do!

And, as your leaves lie quiet on the ground,
The lofs alone by thofe that lov'd them found:
So, in the grave, fhall we as quiet lie;
Mifs'd by fome few that lov'd our company.
But fome fo like to thorns and nettles live,
That none for them can, when they perish, grieve.

Some

Some VERSES of an imperfect COPY,

Defigned for a Friend,

On his Tranflation of OVID'S FASTI.

OME's holy days you tell, as if a guest

Rith hold Romans you were wont to feafte

Numa's religion, by themselves believ'd,
Excels the true, only in fhew receiv'd.
They made the nations round about them bow,
With their Dictators taken from the plough
Such power has juftice, faith, and honesty!
The world was conquer'd by morality.
Seeming devotion does but gild a knave,
That's neither faithful, honeft, juft, nor brave
But, where religion does with virtue join,
It makes a Hero like an Angel fhine.

On the STATUE of King CHARLES the FIRST, at CHARING-CROSS.

In the Year 1674.

HAT the Firft Charles does here in triumph ride;

THAT

See his Son reign, where he a Martyr dy'd ;

And people pay that reverence, as they pass,
(Which then he wanted!) to the facred brafs;
Is not th' effect of gratitude alone,

To which we owe the ftatue and the stone.

But