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The nymph must fear to be inquisitive ;
'Tis for the sex's quiet, to believe.
Her air an easy confidence must show,
And thun to find what she would dread to know
Still charming with all arts that can engage,
And be the Juliana of the age.
To the Dutchess of Bolton, on her staying all':
the Winter in the Country.
YEASE rural conquests, and set free your swains,
To Dryads leave the groves, to Nymphs the plains. ·
In pensive dales alone let Echo dwell,
And each fad figh the hears with sorrow tell.
Haste, let your eyes at Kent's pavilion * shine,
It wants but stars, and then the work 's divine,
Of late, Fame only tells of yielding towns,
Of captive generals, and protected crowns :
Of purchas!d laurels, and of battles won,
Lines forc'd, states vanquish'd, provinces o'er-run,
And all Alcides' labour summ'd in one. .
The brave must to the fair now yield the prize,
And English arms submit to English eyes :
In which bright list among the first you stand ;
Though each a Goddess, or a Sunderland. -
* A Gallery at St. James's. -
TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH,
ON HIS VOLUNTARY BANISHMENT.
O, mighty prince, and those great nations see,
Which thy victorious arms before made free ;
View that fam'd column, where thy name engrav'd
Shall tell their children who their empire sav’d,
Point out that marble where thy worth is shown,
To every grateful country but thy own.
Ocensure undeserv'd! unequal fate !
Which strove to lessen him who made her grear :
Which, pamper'd with success and rich in fame,
Extoll’d bis conquests, but condemn'd his name.
But virtue is a crime when plac'd on high,
Though all the fault's in the beholder's cye;
Yet he, untouch'd, as in the heat of wars,
Flies from no danger but domestic jars,
Smiles at the dart which angry Envy shakes,
And only fears for Her whom he forsakes :
He grieves to find the course of virtue cross’d,
Blushing to see our blood no better. loft ;
Didfains in factious parties to contend,
And proves in absence moft Britannia's friend.
So the great Scipio of old, to lhun
That glorious envy which his arms had won,
Far from his dear, ungrateful Rome retir’d,
Prepard, whene'er his country's cause requir'd,
To brine in peace or war, and be again admir’d.
WHILST weeping Europe bends beneath her ills,
And where the fword destroys not, famine kills;
Our ille enjoys, by your successful care,
The pomp of peace, amidst the woes of war.
So much the publick to your prudence owes,
You think no labours long for our repose :
Such conduct, such integrity are shown,
There are no coffers empty, but your own.
From mean dependance, merit you retrieve,
Unask'd you offer, and unseen you give :
Your favour, like the Nile, increase bestows,
And yet conceals the source from whence it flows.
No pomp, or grand appearance, you approve :
A people at their ease is what you love:
To lessen taxes, and a nation save,
Are all the grants your services would have.
Thus far the state-machine wants no repair,
But moves in matchless order by your care;
Free from confufion, setrled and serene ;
And, like the universe, by springs unseen.
But now some star, finister to our prayers,
Contrives new schemes, and calls you from affairs :
No anguilh in your looks, or cares appear,
But how to teach th’unpractis'd crew to steer.
Thus, like a victim, no constraint you need,
To expiate their offence by whom you bleed.
Ingratitude 's a weed of every clime,
It thrives too fast at first, but fades in time.
The god of day, and your own lot 's the fame;
The vapours you have rais’d, obscure your flame :
But though you suffer, and awhile retreat,
Your globe of light looks larger as you fet.
NEAR the vast bulk of that stupendous frame,
Known by the Gentiles' great apostle's name;
With grace divine, great Anna 's feen to rise,
An awful form that glads a nation's eyes :
Beneath her feet four mighty realms appear,
And with due reverence pay their homage there. : Britain and Ireland seem to own her grace, And even wild India wears a smiling face.
But France alone with downcast eyes is seen,
The fad attendant of so good a Queen :
Ungrateful country! to forget to foon,
All that great Anna for thy fake has done :
When sworn the kind defender of thy cause,
Spite of her dear religion, spite of laws ;
For thee she sheath'd the terrors of her sword,
For thee. The broke her General and her word :
For thee her mind in doubtful terms she told,
And learn'd to speak like oracles of old.
For thee, for thee alone, what could she more?
She lost the honour he had gain'd before ;
Lost aH the trophies, which her arms had won
(Such Cæfar never knew, nor Philip's son);
'Resign’d the glories of a ten years' reign,
And such as none but Marlborough's arm.could gain. · For thee in annals she's content to fine, Like other monarchs of the Stuart line.
THERE, where, degenerate countrymen-how high
Will your fond folly and your madness Ay?
Are scenes of death, and fervile chains fo dear,
To fue for blood and bondage every year,
: Like,rebel Jews, with too much freedom cutit,
To court a change - though certain of the worst?
There is no climate which
have not sought,
Where tools of war, and vagrant kings, are bought i
O! noble passion, to your country kind,
To crown her with -- the refuse of mankind.
As if the new Rome, which
Were to be built on rapine, like the old,
While her afylum openly provides
For every ruffian every nation, hides.