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What should be great, you turn to farce;
This commoner has worth and parts, Is prais'd for arms, or lov'd for arts: 150 His head aches for a coronet: And who is bless'd that is not great? Some sense, and more estate, kind Heaven To this well-lotted peer has given: What then? he must have rule and sway; And all is wrong, 'till he's in play. The miser must make up his plum, And dares not touch the hoarded sum ; The sickly dotard wants a wife, To draw off his last dregs of life. 160 Against our peace we arm our will: Amidst our plenty, something still For horses, houses, pictures, planting, To thee, to me, to him is wanting. That cruel something unpossess'd Corrodes and leavens all the rest. That something, if we could obtain, Would soon create a future pain; And to the coffin, from the cradle, "Tis all a Wish, and all a Ladle. 170 WRITTEN AT PARIS, MDCC,
IN THE BEGINNING OF Robbe's GEography.
S. Describes, great Rhea, of thy globe;
& When or on post-horse, or in chaise,
§3% With much expense, and little ease,
Now if thou grant'st me my request,
To make thy votary truly blest,
To tempt me to be base and great.
WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF
MEZERAY'S HISTORY OF
HATE'ER thy countrymen have done s/$ By law and wit, by sword and gun, Wo In thee is faithfully recited: And all the living world, that view Thy work, give thee the praises due, At once instructed and delighted.
Yet for the fame of all these deeds,
It strange, dear author, yet it true is,
That, down from Pharamond to Louis,
All feel the ill, yet shun the cure:
Can sense this paradox endure?
The man in graver tragic known
WRITTEN IN THE NOU WEAUX INTERETS
DEs PRINCEs DE L'EUROPE.
§ LEST be the princes, who have fought
* For pompous names, or wide dominion;
& Since by their error we are taught,
ADRIANI MORIENTIS AD ANIMAM SUAM.
§§ ÖğNIMULA, vagula, blandula,
BY MONSIEUR FONTENELLE. * ;A petite àme, ma mignonne, | Tu t'en vas done, ma fille, et Dieu sgache W où tu vas:
Tu pars seulette, nué, et tremblotante, helas !
00R little, pretty, fluttering thing, Must we no longer live together? And dost thou prune thy trembling wing; To take thy flight thou know'st not whither?
Thy humorous vein, thy pleasing folly
And pensive, wavering, melancholy,
A PASSAGE IN THE MORIAE ENCOMIUM OF ERASMUS IMITATED.
oN awful pomp, and melancholy state, § See settled Reason on the judgment Seat; Around her crowd Distrust, and Doubt, and Fear, And thoughtful Foresight, and tormenting Care: Far from the throne, the trembling Pleasures stand, Chain'd up, or exil'd by her stern command. Wretched her subjects, gloomy sits the queen; Till happy Chance reverts the cruel scene: And apish Folly with her wild resort