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Neglects or turns him out of gate

Then take it, sir, as it was writ, When he's grown up to dog's estate:

To pay respect, and not shew wit: Nor parish, if they once adopt

Nor look askew at what it saith; The spurious brats by strollers dropt,

There's no petition in it-'faith. Leare them, when grown up lusty fellows,

Here some would scratch their heads, and try To the wide world, that is, the gallows:

What they should write, and how, and why; No, thank them for their love, that's worse, But, I conceive, such folks are quite in Than if they 'd throttled them at nurse.

Mistakes, in theory of writing. My uncle, rest his soul! when living,

If once for principle 'tis laid, Might have contriv'd me ways of thriving;

That thought is trouble to the head; Taught me with cider to replenish

argue thus : the world agrees My fats, or ebbing tide of Rhenish.

That he writes well, who writes with ease : So when for hock I drew priekt white-wine, Then he, by seqırel logical, Swear 't had the flavour, and was right wine. Writes best, who never thinks at all. Or sent me with ten pounds to Furni

Verse comes from Heaven, like inward light; val's inn, to some good rogue-attorney ;

Mere human pains can ne'er come by't:
Where now, by forging deeds, and cheating, The god, not we, the poem inakes;
I 'ad found some handsome ways of g tting. We only tell folks what he speaks.
All this you made me quit, to follow

Hence, when anatomists discourse,
That sneaking whey-fac'd god Apollo ;

How lik brutes' organs are to ours; Sent me among a fiddling crew

They grant, if higher powers think fit, Of folks, I'ad never seen nor knew,

A bear might soon be made a wit; Calliope, and God knows who.

And that, for any thing in nature, To add no more invectives to it,

Pigs might squeak love-odes, dogs bark satire. You spoil'd the youth, to make a poet.

Memnon, though stone, was counted vocal; In common justice, sir, there's no man

But 'twas the god, meanwhile, that spoke all. That makes the whore, but keeps the woman.

Rome oft has heard a cross haranguing, Among all honest christian people,

With prompting priest behind the hanging: Whoe'er breaks limbs, maintains the cripple. The wooden head resolv' the question ; The sum of all I have to say,

While you and Pettis help'd the jest on. Is, that you'd put me in some way;

Your crabbed rogues, that read Lucretius, And your petitioner shall pray

Are against go:ls, you know; an'l teach us, There's one thing more I had almost slipt, The gods make not the poet; but But that may do as well in postscript :

The thesis, vice-versa put, My friend Charles Montague's preferr'd;

Should Hebrew-wise be understood; Nor would I have it long obsesvid,

And means, the poet makes the god,
That one mouse eats, while t'other's starv'd,

Egyptian gardeners thus are said to
Have set the leeks they after pray'd to:
And Romish bakers praise the deity
They chipp'd while yet in its paneity.

That when you poets swear and cry,
ANOTHER EPISTLE TO THE SAME. “ The god inspires ! I rave, I die!”

If inward wind does truly swell ye, SIR,

BURLEIGH, MAY 14, 1689. Tinust be the colic in your belly : As once a twelvemonth to the priest,

That writing is but just like dice, Holy at Rome, here antichrist,

And lucky mains make people wise : The Spanish king presents a jennet,

That jumbled words, if Fortune throw 'em, To show his love;-that's all that's in it:

Shall, well as Dryden, form a poem; For if his holiness would thump

Or make a speech, correct and witty, His reverend bum 'gainst horse's rump,

As you know who at the comiittee, He might b'equipt from his own stable

So atoms dancing round the centre, With one more white, and eke more able.

They urge, made all things at a venture. Or as, with gondolas and men, his

But, granting matters should be spoke Good excellence the duke of Venice

By method, rather than ly luck; (I wish, for rhyme, 't had been the king)

This may confine their younger styles, Sails ont, and gives the Gulph a ring;

Whom Dryden pedagogues at Will's; Which trick of state, he wisely maintains,

But never could be meant to tye Keeps kindness up 'twixt old acquaintance;

Authentic wits, like you and I: For else, in honest truth, the sea

For as young children, who are tied in Has much less need of gold than he.

Go-carts, to keep their steps from sliding; Or, not to rove, and pump one's fancy

When members knit, and legs grow stronger, For popish similies beyond sea ;

Make use of such machine no longer; As folks from mud-wall'd tenement

But leap pro libitu, and scout Bring landlords pepper-corn for rent;

On horse call’d hobby, or without; Present a turkey, or a hen,

So when at school we first declaim, To those might better spare them ten z

Old Busby walks us in a theme, Ev'n so, with all submission, I

Whose props support our infant vein, (For first men instance, then apply)

And help the rickets in the brain : Send you each year a homely letter,

But, when our souls their force dilate, Who may return me much a better,

And thoughts grow up to wit's estate;


In verse or prose, we write or chat,

Critics I read on other men, Not sixpence matter upon what.

And hypers upon them again; "Iis not how well an author says;

From whose remarks I give opinion But 'tis how much, that gathers praise.

On twenty books, yet ne'er look in one. Tonson, who is himself a wit,

Then all your wits, that fleer and sham, Counts writ rs' merits by the sheet.

Down from Don Quixote to Tom Tram; Thuis « ach should down with all he thinks,

From whom I jests and puns purloin, As boys eat bread, to fill up chinks.

And slily put them off for mine: kind sir, I should be glad to see you ;

Fond to be thought a country wit : I hope y' are well; so God be wi' you.

The rest-when Fate and you think fit. Was all I thought at first to write;

Sometimes I climb my mare, and kick her But things, since then, are alter'd quite:

To bottled ale, and neighbouring vicar; Fancies flow in, and Muse flies high;

Sometimes at Stamford take a quart, So God knows when my clack will lie.

Squire Shephard's health"--"With all my heart." I must, sir, prattle on, as afore,

Thus, without much delight or grief, And beg your pardon yet this half-hour.

I fool away an idle life: So at pure barn of loud Non-con,

Til Shadsell from the town retires Where with my granam I have gone,

(Chok'd up with fame and sea-coal fires), When Lobb bad sifted all his text,

To bless the wood with peaceful lyric: And I well hop'd the pudding next;

Then hey for praise and panegyric; Now to apply," has plagu'd me more

Justice restor'd, and nations freed,
Than all his villain cant before.

And wreaths round Wiliam's glorious heado
For your Religion, first, of her
Your friends do savoury things aver:
They say, she's honest as your claret,
Not sour'd with cant, nor stumın'd with merit;

70 THE COUNTESS OF DORSET. Your chamber is the sole retreat Of chaplains every Sunday night:

grace, no doubt, a certain sign,

When layman herds with man divine;
For, if their fame be justly great,

See here how bright the first-born virgin shone, Who would no popish nuncio treat;

And how the first fond lover was undone. That his is greater, we must grant,

Such charming words, our b: auteous mother spoke Who will treat nuncios protestant.

As Milton wrote, and such as yours her look. One single positive weighs more,

Yours, the best copy of th' original face, You know, than negatives a score.

Whose beauty was to furnish all the race: In politics, I hear, you 're stanch,

Such chains no author could escape but he;
Directly bent against the French;

'I here's no way to be safe, but not to see.
Deny to have your free-born toe
Dragoon'd into a wooden shoe :
Are in no plots; but fairly drive at
The public welfare, in your private;
And will for England's glory try

Turks, Jews, and Jesuits, to defy,
And keep your places till you die.
For me, whom wandering Fortune threw

Here reading how fond Adam was betray'd,
From what I lov'd, the town and you :

And now by sin Eve's blasted chairs decay'd; Let me just tell you how my time is

Our common loss unjustly you complain; Past in a country life.--Imprimis,

So small that part of it, which you sustain. As soon as Phæbus' rays inspect us,

You still, fair mother, in your offspring trace Tirst, sir, I read, and then I breakfast;

The stock of beauty destin'd for the race : So on, till forcsajd gol does set,

Kind Nature, forming them, the pattern took I sometimes study, sometimes eat.

From Heaven's first work, and Eve's original look. Thus, of your heroes and brave boys,

You, happy saint, the serpent's power control : With whon old Homer makes such noise,

Scarce any actual guilt detiles your soul : The greatest actions I can find,

And Hell Hoes o'er that mind vain triumph boast, Are, that they did their work, and din'd.

Which gains a Heaven, for earthly Eden lost. The books, of which I'm chiefly fond,

With virtue strong as yours had Eve been arın'd, Are such as you have whilom conn'd;

In vain the fruit had blush'd, or serpent charm'd; That treat of China's civji law,

Nor had our bliss by penitence been bought;
And subjects' right in Golconda;

Nor had frail Adam fall'n, nor Milton wrote.
Of highway-elephants at (eylan,
That rob in clans, like men o'th' Highland ;
Of apes that storm, or ke pa town,
As ucll almost as count Lauzun;

Of unicorns and alligators,
Elks, mermuils, mummies, witches, satyrs,

.Ind twenty other stranger matters;
Which, though they're things I've no concern in,

Tur. amorous youth, whose tender breast
Makr all our grooms admire my learning.

Was by his darling cat possest,


Obtain'd of Venus his desire,

(Heaven guard us all from Cupid's bow !) . Howe'er irregular his fire:

He lost his crook, he left bis focks; Nature the power of love obey'd,

And, wandering throngh the lonely rocks,
The cat became a blushing maid ;

He nourish'd endless woe.
And, on the happy change, the boy
Employ'd his wonder and his joy.

The nymphs and shepherds roiind bim came: Take care, O beauteous child, take care,

His grief some pity, others blame; Lest thou prefer so rash a prayer:

The fatal cause all kindly seck: Nor rainly hope, the queen of love

He mingled his concern with theirs; Wilie'er thy favourite's charms improve.

He gave them back their friendly tears ; O quickly from her shrine retreat;

He sigh'd, but would not speak. Or tremble for thy darling's fate.

Clorinda came amongst the rest ; The queen of love, who soon will see

And she too kind concern exprest, Hr rown Adonis live in thee,

And ask'd the reason of his woe: Will lightly her first loss deplore;

She ask'd, but with an air and mien, Will easily forgive the boar:

That made it easily foreseen,
Her eyes with tears no more will flow;

She fear'd too much to know.
With jealous rage her breast will glow :
And, on her tabby rival's face,

The shepherd rais'd his mournful head;
She deep will mark ber new disgrace.

“ And will you pardon me," he said,

“ While I the cruel truth reveal ?
Which nothing from my breast should tear;
Which never should offend your ear,

But that you bid me tell.

“ 'Tis thus I rove, 'tis thus complain, Wu from our looks, fair nymph, you guess Since you appear'd upon the plain ; The secret passions of our mind;

You are the cause of all my care ; My heavy eyes, you say, confess

Your eyes ten thousand dangers dart; A heart to love and grief inclin'd.

Ten thousand torments vex my heart :

I love, and I despair.”
There needs, alas! but little art,
To have this fatal secret found ;

Too much, Alexis, I have heard :
With the same ease you threw the dart,

”Tis what I thought ; 'tis what I fear'd: 'Tis certain you may show the wound,

And yet I pardon you,” she cried :

“But you shall promise ne'er again How can I see you, and not love,

To breathe your vows, or speak your pain ;"
While you as opening east are fair ?
While cold as northern blasts you prove,

He bow'd, obey'd, and died.
How can I love, and not despair ?
The wretch in double fetters bound
Your potent mercy may release:

Soon, if my love but once were crown'd,
Fair prophetess, my grief would cease,

Howe'er, 'tis well, that while mankind

Through fate's perverse meander errs,
He can imagin'l pleasures fine,

To combat against real cares.

Fencies and notions he pursucs,
Istain yol tell yourmparting Jover,
You wish fair windls may waft him over.

Which ne'er had being but in thought:
Alas! what winds can happy prove,

Fach, like the Grecian artist, woos

The image he himself has wrought.
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main

Against experience he believes;
Can equal those that I sustain,

He argues against demonstration; From slighted vows, and cold disdain ?

Pleas'd when his reason he deceives;

And sets his judgment by his passion,
Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildest tempests loose :

The hoary fool, who many days
That, thrown again upon the coast

Has struggled with continued sorrow, Where first my shipwreck'il heart was lost,

Renews his hope, and blindly lays I may once more repeat my pain;

The desperate bett upon to morrow. Once more in dying notes complain

To morrow comes ; 'tis noon, 'tis night;
Of slighted vows, and cold disdain.

This day like all the former fiies :
Yet on he runs, to seek delight

To morrow, till to night he dies.

Our hopes, like towering falcons, aina

At objects in an airy height: Alexis shunn'd his fellow-swains,

The little pleasure of the game Their rural sports, and jocund straias:

Is from afar to view the flight


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Our anxious pains we, all the day,

Alike all-powerful to relieve the pain, In search of what we like, employ!

And bid the groaning nations smile again; Scorning at night the worthless prey,

When this our pride you see, confess you find We find the labour gave the joy,

In him what art can do with labour join'd : At distance through an artful glass

No more the world thy direful threats shall fear, To the mind's eye things will appear :

While he, the youth, our remedy, near; They lose their forms, and make a mass

Suppress thy rage; with verse thy son inspire, Confus'd and black, if brought too near.

The dart neglected, to assume the lyre, If we see right, we see our woes:

Then what avails it to have eyes ?, From ignorance our comfort Rows : The only wretched are the wise,

ON THE TAKING OF NAMUR. We wearied should lie down in death :

The town which Louis bought, Nassau re-claims, This cheat of life would take no more,

And brings instead of bribes avenging flames. If you thought fame but empty breath,

Now, Louis, take thy titles from above, 1, Phillis but a perjur'd whore.

Boileau shall sing, and we'll believe thee Jove :
Jove gain'd his mistress with alluring gold,

But Jove like thee was impotent and old !
VARIATIONS IN A COPY, PRINTED 1692. Active and young did he like William stand,

He 'ad stunn'd the dame, his thunder in his hand. Our hopes, like towering falcons aim

At objects in an airy height;
But all the pleasure of the game
Is afar off to view the flight.

T'he worthless prey but only shews
The joy consisted in the strife;

IN IMITATION OF HORACE, M. or. ii. Whate'er we take, as soon we lose

WRITTEN IN 1692. In Homer's riddle and in life.

How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie So, whilst in feverish sleeps we think

In the lethargic sleep, the sad repose, We taste what waking we desire,

By which thy close, thy constant enemy, The dream is better than the drink,

Has softly lull'd thee to thy woes? Which only feeds the sickly fire.

Or wake, degenerate isle, or cease to own To the mind's eye things well appear,

What thy old kings in Gallic camps have done; At distance through an artful glass ;

The spoils they brought thee back, the crowns they Bring but the flattering objects near,

William (so Fate requires) again is arm'd; (won: They're all a senseless gloomy mass.

Thy father to the field is gone : Seeing aright, we see our woes:

Again Maria weeps her absent lord, Then what avails it to have eyes?

For thy repose content to rule alone. From ignorance our comfort fows,

Are thy enervate sons not yet alarm’d? The only wretched are the wise.

When William fights, dare they look tamely on, We wearied should lie down in death,

So slow to get their ancient fame restor'd, This cheat of life would take no more ;

As nor to melt at Beauty's tears, nor follow Valour's

sword ?
If you thought fame but stinking breath,
And Phyllis but a perjur'd whore.

See the repenting isle awakes,
Her vicious chains the generous goddeas breaks :
The fogs around lier temples are dispellid;

Abroad she looks, and sees arm'd Belgia stand AD VIRIM DOCTISSIMUM DOMINUM Prepard to meet their common Lord's command; SAMUELEM SHAW,

Her lions roaring by her side, her arrows in her


And, blushing to have been so long with-beld, DEFENDERET, 4 JUNII, 1692.

Weeps off her crime, and hastens to the field. Pube patens sævis morbis vel lædere gentes, Henceforth her youth shall be inur'd to bear Læsas solerti vel relevare manu,

Hazardous toil and active war; Aspice tu decus hoc nostrum, placidusque fatere

To march beneath the dog-star's raging heat, Indomitus quantum prosit in arte labor :

Patient of summer's drought, and martial sweat; Non icterum posthac pestemve minaberis orbi,

And only grieve in winter's camps to find Fortius bic juvenis dum medicamen habet :

Its days too short for labours they design'd: Mitte Jehinc iras, et nato carmina dona;

All night beneath hard heavy arms to watch; Neglectum telum dejice, sume lyram.

All day to mount the trench, to storm the breach;

And all the rugged paths to tread,

Where William and his virtue lead.

Silence is the soul of war;
Deliberate counsel must prepare

The mighty work, which valour must complete: O! Puebus, deity, whose powerful hand

Thus William rescued, thus preserves the state; fan spread diseases through the joyful land,

Thus teaches us to think and dare.



As whilst his cannon just prepard to breathe

Now from the dubious battle's mingled heat,
Avenging anger and swift death,

Let Fear look back, and stretch her hasty wing, In the tried metal the close dangers glow,

Impatient to secure a base retreat :
And now, too late, the dying foe

Let the pale coward leave his wounded king,
Perceives the fame, yet cannot ward the blow; For the vile privilege to breathe,
So whilst in William's breast ripe counsels lie, To live with shame in dread of glorious death!
Secret and sure as brooding Fate,

In vain : for Fate has swifter wiags than fear, No more of his design appears,

She follows hard, and strikes him in the rear; Than what awakens Gailia's fears;

Dying and mad the traitor bites the ground, And (though Guilt's eye can sharply penetrate) His back transfix'd with a dishonest wound; Distracted Lewis can descry

Whilst though the fiercest troops, and thickest press, Only a long unmeasur'd ruin nigh,

Virtue carries on success;

Whilst equal Heaven guards the distinguish'd brave, On Norman coasts and banks of frighted Seine And armies cannot hurt whom angels save. Lo! the impending storms begin :

Virtue to verse immortal lustre gives, Britannia safely through her master's sea

Each by the other's mutual friendship lives; Plows up her victorious way.

Eneas suffer'd, and Achilles fought, The French Salmoneus throws his bolts in vain,

The hero's acts enlarg'd the poet's thought, Whilst the true Thunderer asserts the main.

Or Virgil's majesty, and Homer's rage, 'Tis done! to shelves and rocks his fleets retire,

Hari ne'er like lasting nature vanquish'd age. Swift Victory in vengeful flames

Whilst Lewis then his rising terrour drowns Burns down the pride of their presumptuous

With druins' alarms, and trumpets' sounds,

Whilst, hid in arm'd retreats and guarded towns, They run to shipwreck to avoid our fire,

From danger as from honour far, And the torn vessels that regain their coast

Hle bribes close murder against open war: Are but sad marks to show the rest are lost ;

In vain you, Gallic Muscs, strive All this the mild, the beauteous queen has done,

With labour'd verse to keep his fame alive : And William's softer-half shakes Lewis' throne :

Your mouldering monuments in vain ye raise Maria does the sea command

On the weak basis of the tyrant's praise : Whilst Gallia flies her husband's arms by land,

Your songs are sold, your numbers are profane, So, the Sun absent, with full sway the Moon

"Tis incense to an idol given, Governs the isles, and rules the waves alone:

Meat offer'd to Proin.etheus' man So Juno thunders when her Jove is gone.

That had no soul from Heaven. lo Britannia ! loose thy ocean's chains,

Against his will, you chain your frighted king Whilst Russel strikes the blow thy queen ordains :

On rapid Rhine's divided bed; Thus rescued, thus reverd, for ever stand,

And mock your hero, whilst ye sing And bless the counsel, and reward the hand,

The wounds for which he never bled; lo Britannia! thy Maria reigns.

Falsehood does poison on your praise diffuse,

And Lewis' fear gives death to Boileau's Musé From Mary's conquests, aud the rescued main, Let France look forth to Sambre's armed shore, On its own worth true majesty is rear'd, And boast her joy for William's death no more. And Virtue is her own reward; He lives ; let France confess, the victor lives; With solid beams and native glory bright, Her triumphs for his death were vain,

She neither darkness dreads, nor covets light; And spoke her terrour of his life too plain.

True to herself, and fix'd to inborn laws, The mighty years begin, the day draws nigh, Nor sunk by spite, nor lifted by applause, lo which that one of Lewis' many wives,

She from her settled orb looks calınly down, Who, by the baleful force of guilty charms, On life or death, a prison or a crown. Has long enthrall'd him in her wither'd arms, When bound in double chains poor Belgia lay, Shall o'er the plains, from distant towers on high, To foreign arms and inward strife a prey, Cast around her mournful eye,

Whilst one good man buoy'd up her sinking state; And with prophetic sorrow cry:

And Virtue labour'd against Fate; " Why does my ruin'd lord retard his flight? When Fortune basely with Ambition join'd, Why does Despair provoke his age to fight? And all was conquer'd but the patriot's mind; As well the wolf may venture to engage

When storms iet loose, and raging seas,
The angry lion's generous rage;

Just ready the torn vessel to o'erwhelin,
The ravenous vulture, and the bird of night, Fore'd not the faithful pilot fiom his helin,
As safely tempt the stooping eagle's flight; Nor all the syren songs of future peace,
As Lewis to unequal arms defy

And dazzling prospect of a promis'd crown,
Yon' hero, crowu'd with blooming victory,

Could lure his stubbory virtue down; Just triumphing o'er rebel-rage restrain'd,

But against charms, and threats, and hell, he stood, And yet unbreath'd from battles gain'd.

To that which was severely good ; See! all yon' dusty field's quite cover'd o'er Then, had no trophies justified his fame, With hostile troops, and Orange at their head ; No poet blest his song with Nassau's name, . Orange, destin'd to complete

Virtue alone did all that honour bring, The great designs of labouring Fate ;

And Heaven as plainly pointed out The King, Orange, the name that tyrants dread :

As when be at the altar stood He comes; our ruin'd empire is no more;

In all his types and robes of power, Down, like the Persian, goes the Gallic throne; Whilst at bis feet religious Britain bow'd, Darius Aies, young Ammon urges on."

And own'd bim next to what we there adorca

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