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Though blest Astrea's gone, fome foil remains
Where Fortune is the slave, and Merit reigns.
The Tiber boasts his Julian progeny,
Thames his Nassau, the Nile his Ptolomy.
Iberia, yet for future sway defign’d,
whall, for a Heffe, a greater Mordaunt find.
Thus Ariadne in proud triumph rode;
She lost a hero, and fhe found a god.
THEN the still night, with peaceful poppies crown'd,
Had spread her shasly pinions o'er the ground; And slumbering chiefs of painted triumphs dream, While groves and streams are the soft virgin's theme ; The surges gently dash against the shore,
5 Flocks quit the plains, and gally-flares the oar; Sleep shakes its downy wings o'er mortal eyes ; Mirmillo is the only wretch it flies; He finds no respite from his anxious grief; Then seeks from this soliloquy relief.
10 Long have I reign’d unrival'd in the town, Oppress’d with fees, and deafen'd with renown.
None e'er could die with due folemnity, Unless his passport first was sign’d by me. My arbitrary bounty's undeny'd ;
is I give reverfions, and for heirs provide. None could the tedious nuptial state support, But I, to make it cafy, make it thort.
I set the discontented matrons free,
And ransom husoands from captivity.
Shall one of such importance then engage
In noisy riot, and in civil
No: I'll endeavour straight a peace, and so
Preserve my character, and person too.
But Discurd, that still haunts with hideous mien 25
Those dire abodes where Hymen once hath been,
O’erheard Mirmillo's anguish; then legun
In peevish accents to express her own :
Have I so often banishid lazy peace
From her dark solitude, and lov'd recess ?
Have I made South and Sherlock disagree,
And puzzle truth with learn’d obscurity?
And does the faithful Ferguson profess
His ardour still for animofities?
Have I, Britannia's safety to ensure,
Expos’d her naked, to be most secure?
Have I made parties opposite, unite,
In monstrous leagues of amicable fpite,
To curse their country, whilst the common cry
Is freedom; but their aim, the ministry ?
40 And shall a daftard's cowardice prevent
so long I've labour'd to foment? No, 'tis resolv’d, he either shall comply, Or I'll renounce my wan divinity.
With that, the Hag approach'd Mirmillo's bed, 45
And, taking Querpo's meagre shape, she said :
At noon of night I halten, to dispel
Those tumults in your pensive bofom dwell. ,
I dreamt but now I heard your heaving sighs,
Nay, saw the tears debating in your eyes.
Othat 'twere but a dream! but threats I find
Lour in your looks, and rankle in your mind.
Speak, whence it is this late disorder flows,
That shakes your soul, and troubles your repose.
Mistakes in praćtice scarce could give you pain ; 55
Too well you know, the dead will ne'er complain.
What looks discover, said the homicide,
Would be a fruitless industry to hide.
My safety first I must confult, and then
I'll serve our suffering party with my pen.
All should, reply'd the Hag, their talent learn;
The most attempting of the least discern.
Let Peterborough fpcak, and Vanbrugh write,
Soft Acon court, and rough Cæcinna fight :
Such must succeed; but, when th' enervate aim
Beyond their force, they still contend for fhaine.
Had Colbatch printed nothing of his own,
He had not been the Saffold of the town.
Afies and owls, unseen, their kind betray,
If these attempt to hoot, or those to bray.
Had Welley never aim'd in verse to please,
We had not rank'd him with our Ogilbys.
Still censures will on dull pretenders fall;
A Codrus should expect a Juvenal.
Il lines, but like ill paintings, are allow'd, 75
To set off, and to recommend the good.
So diamonds take a lustre from their foil;
And to a Bentley 'tis, we owe a Boyle.
Consider well the talent you possess ;
To strive to make it more, would make it less : 8.0
And recollect what gratitude is due,
To those whose party you abandon now.
To them you owe your odd magnificence,
But to your stars your magazine of sense.
Haspt in a tombril, aukward have you thin'd,
With one fat slave before, and none behind.
Then haste and join your true intrepid friends,
Success on vigour and dispatch depends.
Labouring in doubts Mirmillo stood; then said,
'Tis hard to undertake, if gain dissuade ;
What fool for noisy feuds large fees would leave?
Ten harvests more would all I wish for give.
True man ! reply'd the elf; by choice diseas'd,
Ever contriving pain, and never pleas’d.
A present good they night, an absent choose;
95 And what they have, for what they have not, lose. False prospects all their true delights destroy, Refolvid to want, yet labouring to enjoy. in restless hurries thoughtlessly they live, At substance of unmov'd, for shadows grieve. 100
Ver. 87--104. Originally thus,
But soon what they've exalted they 'll discard,
And set up Carus or the city Bard.
Alarm'd at this the Hero' courage took,
And storms of terror threaten'd in his look.
My dread resolves, he cry'd, I'll straight pursue ;
The Fury, fatisfy'd, in smiles withdrew.