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A PARAPHRASE FROM THE FRENCH.
As mighty Lewis lay,
FROM THE GREEK,
%.S. REAT Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire, By native heat asserts his dreadful sire. 5 Nourish’d near shady rills and cooling streams, He to the nymphs avows his amorous flames. To all the brethren at the Bell and Wine, The moral says; mix water with your wine.
išRANK carves very ill, yet will palm all the jo meats : ** He eats more than six; and drinks more
than he eats.
Four pipes after dinner he constantly smokes; And seasons his whiffs with impertinent jokes. Yet sighing, he says, we must certainly break; And my cruel unkindness compells him to speak; For of late I invite him—but four times a week.
O John I ow’d great obligation;
ANOTHER. to ES, every poet is a fool: & By demonstration Ned can show it: § Happy, could Ned's inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet.
HY nags, (the leanest things alive)
TO A PERSON WHO WROTE ILL,
AND SPOKE WORSE AGAINST ME.
IE, Philo, untouch'd on my peaceable shelf; Nor take it amiss, that so little I heed thee: I’ve no envy to thee, and some love to myself: Then why should I answer; since first I must read thee ?'
Drunk with Helicon's waters and double brew’d bub,
Be a linguist, a poet, a critic, a wag;
To the solid delight of thy well-judging club,
Pursue me with satire: what harm is there in’t 2 But from all viva voce reflection forbear: 10 There can be no danger from what thou shalt print: There may be a little from what thou may'st SWear.
ON THE SAME PERSON.
ILE, faster than his costive brain inso dites, /ji Philo's quick hand in flowing letters - - writes; His case appears to me like honest Teague's, When he was run away with, by his legs. Phoebus, give Philo o'er himself command; Quicken his senses, or restrain his hand; Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink: So may he cease to write, and learn to think.
“QUID SIT FUTURUM CRAS FUGE
No OR what to-morrow hall disclose,
) May spoil what you to-night propose:
R England may change, or Cloe stray:
Love and life are for to-day.
A BALLAD OF
AE it ryght, or wrong, these men among
Z. on women do complayne;
Affyrmynge this—how that it is a la
-- to bour spent in vayne
To love them wele; for never a dele they love a man agayne:
For late a man do what he can, theyr favour to attayne,
* This ancient poem was originally printed in an old black letter book, intitled, The Customes of London or Arnolde's Chronicle, which Mr. Capell supposes appeared about the year 1521. According to that gentleman's opinion—“It was certainly written in the beginning of the sixteenth century, and not sooner: the curious in these matters, who shall conceive a doubt of what is here asserted through remembrance of what he has seen advanced by a poet of late days, is desired to look into the works of the great Sir Thomas More, and particularly into a poem that stands at the head of them, and from thence receive conviction; if sameness of rhymes, sameness of orthography, and a very near affinity of words and phrases be capable of giving it.” The “poet of late days’ mentioned above, is certainly Mr. Prior, who in the edition of his poems published in 1718, had asserted it to have been written three hundred years since. What led him to that mistaken notion, was probably a writer in the Muses’ Mercury for June 1707, who conjectures that it was written about the year 1472. The same writer says, and the ballad seems to confirm it, that the persons represented are a young Lord, the Earl of Westmoreland's son, and a lady of equal quality. The copy from which this poem hath hitherto been printed being very inaccurate, it is here given according to that published by Mr. Capell.