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A docter of great skill and fame,
Paulo Purganti was his name,
Had a good, comely, virtuous wife
No woman led a better life:

She to intrigues was ev'n hard-hearted:
She chuckled when a bawd was carted;
And thought the nation ne'er would thrive,
Till all the whores were burnt alive.

Q. married men, that dar'd be bad,
She tonght no mercy should be had;
They should be hang'd, or ftarv'd, or flead,
Or ferv'd like Romish priests in Swede.
In fhort, all lewdnefs the defied;
And stiff was her parochial pride.

Yet, in an honeft way, the dame
Was a great lover of that fame;
And could from Seripture take her cue,
That husbands fhould give wives their duc.
Her prudence did so justly steer
Between the gay and the fevere,
That if in fome regards the chofe
To curb poor Paulo in too close ;
In others the relax'd again,
And govern'd with a loofer rein.

Thus though the strictly did confine
The Doctor from excefs of wine :
With oysters, eggs, and vermicelli,
She let him almost burst his belly :
Thus drying coffee was denied ;
But chocolate that lofs supplied;
And for tobacco (who could bear it?)
Filthy concomitant of claret:
(Bleft revolution!) one might fee
Eringo roots, and Bohea tea.

She often fet the Doctor's band,

And strok'd his beard, and fqcez dhiş hand:
Kindly complain'd, that after noon

He went to pore on books too foon:
She held it wholefomer by much,
To reft a little on the couch:
About his waist in bed a-nights
She clung fo close-for fear of sprites.
The Doctor understood the call;
But had not always wherewithal.

1 he lion's fkin too fhort, you know,
(As Plutarch's Morals finely fhow)
Was lengthen'd by the fox's tail:
And art fupplies, where ftrength may
Unwilling then in arms to meet
The enemy he could not beat;
He strove to lengthen the campaign,
And fave his forces by chicane.
Fabius, the Roman chief, who thus
By fair retreat grew Maximus,
Shews us, that all that warrior can do,
With force inferior, is cunctando.

fail.

One day then, as the foe drew near,
With love, and joy, and life, and dear;
Our Don, who knew this tittle-tattle
Did, fure as trumpet, call to battle,
'Thought it extremely a propos,

To ward against the coming blow:

The Doctor feign'd a strange surprise :
He felt her pulfe; he view'd her eyes ;
That beat too faft, these roll'd too quick;
She was, he faid, or would be fick :
He judg'd it abfolutely good.

That the fhould purge, and cleanfe her blood.
Spa waters for that end were got;
If they paft easily or not,
What matters it? the lady's fever
Continued violent as ever.

For a distemper of this kind
(Blackmore and Hans are of my mind),
If once it youthful blood infects,
And chiefly of the female fex,
Is fcarce remov'd by pill or potion ;
Whate'er might be our Doctor's notion.

One luckless night then, as in bed
The Doctor and the Dame were laid;
Again this cruel fever came,

High pulfe, fhort breath, and blood in flame.
What measures fhall poor Paulo keep

+

With Madam in this piteous taking?
She, like Macbeth, has murder d sleep,
And won't allow him reft, though waking.
Sad state of matters! when we dare
Nor ask for peace, nor offer war;
Nor Livy nor Comines have shown
What in this juncture may be done.
Grotius might own, that Paulo's cafe is
Harder than any which he places
Amongst his Belli and his Pacis.

He ftrove, alas! but ftrove in vain,
By dint of logic to maintain
That all the fex was born to grieve,
Down to her Ladyship from Eve.

He rang'd his tropes, and preach'd up patience,
Back'd his opinion with quotations,
Divines and Moralifts, and run ye on
Quite through from Seneca to Bunyan."
As much in vain he bid her try

To fold Her arms, to close her eye;
Telling her, reft would do her good,
If any thing in nature could:

So held the Greeks quite down from Galen,
Mafters and princes of the calling;

So all our modern friends maintain
(1hough no great Greeks, in Warwick-lane.
Reduce, my Muse, the wandering song :
A tale fhould never be too long.

The more he talk'd, the more fhe burn'd,
And figh d, and toft, and groan'd, and turn'd;
Ar laft, I wish, fain fhe, my dear-
(And whisper d fomething in his ear)
You wish! with on, the Doctor cries:
Lord! when will womankind be wife?
What, in your waters? are you mad?
Why poifon is not half fo bad.
I'll do it but I give you warning:
You'll die before to-morrow morning.
"Tis kind, my dear, what you advife;
The lady with a figh replies !

To ward but how? Ay, there's the quei- But life, you know, at best is pain;

tion;

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Fierce the affault, unarm'd the bastion.

And death is what we fhould disdain.

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HE fceptics think, 'twas long ago, Since gods came down incognito, To fee who were their friends or foes, And how our actions fell or rose :

That fince they gave things their beginning,
And fet this whirligig a-fpinning
Supine they in their heaven remain,
Exempt from paffion and from pain:
And frankly leave us human elv.s,
To cut and shuffle for ourselves;
To ftand or walk, to rife or tumble,
As matter and as motion jumble.

The Poets now and Painters hold
This thefis both abfurd and bold :
And your good-natur'd gods, they fay,
Defcend fome twice or thrice a-day:
Elfe all these things we toil fo hard in
Would not avail one fing e farthing :
For, when the hero we rehearse,
To grace his actions and our verse;
'Tis not by dint of human thought,
That to his Latium he is brought;
Iris defcends by Fate's commands,
To guide his fteps through foreign lands:
And Amphitrite clears the way
From rocks and quickfands in the fca.

And if you fee him in a sketch
(Though drawn by Paulo or Carache),
He fhews not half his force and strength,
Strutting in armour, and at length:
That he may make his proper figure,
The piece muft yet be four yards bigger:
The nymphs conduct him to the fi id;
One holds his fword, and one his fhield;
Mars, flanding by, afferts his quarrel;
And Fame flies after with a laurel.

Thefe points, I fay, of fpeculation
(As 'twere to fave or fink the nation)
Men idly-learned will difpute,
Affert, object, confirm, refute :
Each mighty angry, mighty right, ·
With equal arms fuftains the fight;
Till now no umpire can agree em:
So both raw off and fing Te Deum.
Is it in equilibrio,

If deities defcend or no?
Then let th' affirmative prevail,
As requifite to form my tale;
For by all parties tis confeft,
That thofe opinions are the best,
Which in their nature most conduce
To prefent ends, and private ufe.

Two gods came therefore from above,
One Mercury, the other Jove:
The humour was (it feems) to know
If all the favours they bestow

Could from our own perverfenefs ease us;
And if our with enjoy d would please us
Difcourfing largely on this theme,
O'er hills and dales their godfhips came;
Till, well nigh tir'd at almoft night,
They thought it proper to alight.

Note here. that it as true as odd is,
That in difquife a god or goddess
Exerts no fupernatural powers;
But acts on maxims much like ours.
They fpied at laft a country farm,
Where all was fnug, and clean, and warm;
For woods before, and hills behind,
Secur'd it both from rain and wind:

Large oxen in the field were lowing;

Good grain was fow d: good fruit was grow

ing:

Of laft-year's corn in barns great store:

Fat turkeys gobbling at the door :

And wealth (in fhort) with peace confented
That people here should live contented :
But did they in effect do fo?
Have patience, friend, and thou shalt know.
The honeft farmer and his wife,

To years declin'd from prime of life,
Had ftruggled with the marriage noofe ;
As almost every couple does:

Sometimes, my plague! fometimes, my dar

ling!

Kiffing to-day, to morrow fnarling;

Jointly fubmitting to endure

That evil, which admits no cure.

Our gods the outward gate unbarr'd :
Our farmer met them in the yard;
Thought they were folks that loft their way;
And asked them civilly to ftay;
Told them, for fupper, or for bed,
They might go on, and be worse sped.

So faid, fo done; the gods confent :
All three into the parlour went:
They compliment; they fit; they chat;
Fight o'er the wars; reform the state:
A thousand knotty points they clear,
Till fupper and my wife appear.

Jove made his leg, and kifs'd the dame:
Obfequious Hermes did the fame.
Jove kifs'd the farmer's wife, you say!
He did but in an honest way:
Oh! not with half that warmth and life,
With which he kifs d Amphitryon's wife.-

Well then, things handfomely were ferv'd; My miftrefs for the ftrangers carv'd. How ftrong the beer, how good the meat, How loud they laugh'd, how much they eat, In epic fumptuous would appear: Yet fhall be pafs'd in filence here : For I fhould grieve to have it faid, That, by a fine defcription led, Y made my epifode too long,

Or tir'd my friend, to grace my song.

The grace-cup ferv'd, the cloth away,
Jove thought it time to fhew his play:
Landlord and landlady, he cried,
Folly and jefting laid afide,

That ye thus hofpitably live,

And ftrangers with good cheer receiv',
Is mighty grateful to your betters,

And makes e'en gods themselves your debtors.
To give this thefis plainer proof,
You have to-night beneath your roof
A pair of gods (nay never wonder):
This youth can fly, and I can thunder.
I'm Jupiter, and he Mercurius,
My page, my fon indeed, but fpurious.
Form then three wifhes, you and Madam;
And fure as you already had 'em,
The things defir'd, in half an hour,
Shall all be here, and in your power.
Thank you, great gods, the woman fays:
Oh! may your altars ever blaze!
A Ladle for our filver-difh
Is what I want, is what I wish-
A Ladle cries the man, a Ladle
Odzzooks, Corifea you have pray'd ill;
What should be great, you turn to farce;
I with the Ladle in your a-.

With equal grief and fhame, my Mufe
The fequel of the tale pursues;
The Ladle fell into the room,
And ftuck in old Corifca's bum.
Our couple weep two wishes paft,
And kindly join to form the laft;
To eafe the woman's aukward pain,
And get the Ladle out again.

T

MORA L.

HIS commoner has worth and parts,
Is prais'd for arms, or lov'd for arts
His head aches for a coronet :
And who is blefs'd that is not great?

Some fenfe, and more eftate, 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 Mifer must make up his plumb,
And dares not touch the hoarded fum;
The fickly dotard wants a wife,
To draw off his laft dregs of life.

Against our peace we arm our will:
Amidst our plenty, fomething still
For horfes, houfes, pictures, planting,
To thee, to me, to him. is wanting.
The cruel fomething unpoffefs'd
Corrodes, and leavens all the rest.
That fomething, if we could obtain,
Would foon create a future pain:
And to the coffin, from the cradle,
'Tis all a Wish, and all a Ladle.

WRITTEN AT PARIS, 1700, IN THE BEGINNING OF ROBE'S GEOGRAPHY.

F all that William rules, or Robe

Defcribes, great Rhea, globe; When or on post-horse, or in chaife, With much expence, and little eafe,

;

My deftin'd miles I fhall have gone,
By Thames or Maese, by Po or Rhone,
And found no foot of earth my own;
Great Mother, let nie once be able
To have a garden, houfe, and ftable
That I may read, and ride, and plant,
Superior to defire or want;
And as health fails, and years increase,
Sit down, and think, and die, in peace.
Oblige thy favourite undertakers
To throw me in but twenty acres :
This number fure they may allow ;
For pafture ten, and ten for plo gh:
'Tis all that I could with or hope,
For me and John, and Nell and Crop.
Then, as thou wilt, difpofe the reft
(And let not fortune fpoil the jeft)
To thofe who, at the market-rate,
Can barter honour for eftate.

Now, if thou grant'ft me my requeft,
To make thy votary truly bleft,
Left curit revenge and faucy pride
To fome bleak rock far off be tied;
Nor e'er approach my rural feat,
To tempt me to be base and great.

And, Goddess, this kind office done, Charge Venus to command her fon (Where-ever elfe the lets him rove) To fhun my house, and field, and grove : Peace cannot dwell with Hate or Love. Hear, gracious Rhéa, what I say: And thy petitioner shall pray.

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It's ftrange, dear author, yet it true is,
That down from Pharamond to Louis,
All covet life, yet call it pain;
All feel the ill, yet fhun the cure :
Can fenfe this paradox endure?
Refolve me, Cambray, and Fontaine.
IV.

The man, in graver tragick known
(Though his best part long fince was done),
Still on the stage defires to tarry:
And he, who play'd the Harlequin,
After the jet ftill loads the fcene,
Unwilling to retire, though weary.

WRITTEN IN THE NOUVEAUX INTERETS DES

B

PRINCES DE L'EUROPE.

LEST be the princes, who have fought

For pompous names, or wide dominion;

That by their error we are taught

That happiness is but opinion!

And in their place rejoices to indite Wild schemes of mirth, and plans of loose delight.

ADRIANI MORIENTIS AD ANIMAM SUAM.

NIMULA vagula, blandula,

A Hofpes, comefque corporis,

Que nunc abidis in loca,
Pallidula, rigida, nudula ?
Nec, ut foles, dabis joca.

ΤΟ

DR. SHERLOCK

ON HIS

BY MONSIEUR FONTENELLE.

Ma petite ame, ma mignonne,

Tu t'en vas donc, ma fille, & Dieu fache où tu

vas:

Tu pars feulette, & uuë tremblotante, helas! Que deviendont tant de jolis ébats ?

IMITATE D

POOR, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Muft we no longer live together?
And doft thou prune thy trembling wing,
To take thy flight theu know ft not whither?
Thy humorous vein, thy pleafing folly,
Lies all neglected, all forgot :

And, penfive, wavering, melancholy,

Thou dread'ft and hop'ft thou know'ft not

what.

A PASSAGE IN THE MORIÆ ENCOMIUM OF ERASMUS IMITATED.

Nawful pomp, and melancholy state, IN

See fettled Reafon on the judgment feat : Around her crowd Diftruft, and Doubt, and Fear,

And thoughtful Forefight, and tormenting Care: Far from the throne, the trembling Pleafures ftand,

Chain'd up, or exil'd by her ftern command.
Wretched her fubjects, gloomy fits the queen ;
Till happy Chance reverts the cruel scene;
And apish Folly, with he wild refort
Of wit and jeft, disturbs the folemn court.

See the fantastic minftrelfy advance,
To breathe the fong, and animate the dance.
Bleft the ufurper happy the surprise!
Her mimic postures catch our eager eyes;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear;
And in the fights we fee, and founds we hear,
Against our judgment, fhe our fense employs ;
The laws of troubled Reafon fhe defroys,

PRACTICAL DISCOURSE CONCERNING DEATH.

FORGIVE

ORGIVE the Mufe, who, in unhallow'd
ftrains,

The Saint one moment from his God detains:
For fure, what'er you do, where-e'er you are,
'Tis all but one good work, one constant prayer:
Forgive her; and intreat that God, to whom
Thy favour'd vows with kind acceptance come,
To raise her notes to that fublime degree,
Which fuits a fong of piety and thee.

Wondrous good man! whofe labours may re-
pel

The force of fin, may ftop the rage of hell; Thou, like the Baptift, from thy God wast sent The crying voice, to bid the world repent.

The Youth fhall study, and no more engage
Their flattering wishes for uncertain age;
No more, with fruitless care and cheated ftrife,
Chafe Meeting pleasure through this maze of
life;

Finding the wretched all they here can have,
But prefent food, and but a future grave:
Each, great as Philip's victor son, shall view
This abject world, and, weeping, ask a new.
Decrepit Age fhall read thee, and confess
Thy labours can affuage, where medicines cease;
Shall blefs thy words, their wounded foul's re-›
lief,

The drops that fweeten their laft dregs of life;
Shall look to Heaven, and laugh at all beneath;
Own riches gather'd, trouble; fame, a breath
And Life an ill, whofe only cure is Death.
Thy even thoughts with fo much plainness

flow,

Their fenfe untutor'd Infancy may know : Yet to fuch height is all that plainnefs wrought, Wit may admire, and letter'd pride be taught. Eafy in words thy Ryle, in fenfe fublime,

On its bleft steps each age and fex may rife "Tis like the ladder in the Patriarch's dream,

Its foot on ear.h, its height above the skies & Diffus'd its virtue, boundless in its power; 'Tis public health, and univerfal cure : Of heavenly manna 'tis a fecond feast ; A nation's food, and all to every taste..

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You wreft the bolt from Heaven's avenging hand;

Stop ready death, and fave a finking land,

O! fave us ftill: ftill blefs us with thy ftay: O want thy heaven, till we have learnt the way:

Refufe to leave thy deftin'd charge too foon;
And, for the church's good, defer thy own.
O live; and let thy works urge our belief;
Live to explain thy doctrine by thy life;
Till future Infancy, baptiz'd by thee,
Grow ripe in years, and old in piety;
Till Chriftians, yet unborn, be taught to die.
Then, in full age and hoary holiness,
Retire, great teacher! to thy promis'd blifs:
Untouch'd thy tomb, uninjur'd be thy duft,
As thy own fame among the future juft;
Till in laft founds the dreadful trumpet fpeaks;
Till judgment calls, and quicken'd Nature
wakes;

Till, through the utmost earth, and deepest sea,
Our scatter'd atoms find their deftin'd way,
In hafte to clothe their kindred fouls again,
Perfect our state, and build immortal man :

Then fearless thou, who well fuftain'dft the fight,
To paths of joy, or tracts of endless light,
Lead up all those who heard thee, aud be-
liev'd;

'Midft thy own flock, great fhepherd! be re-
ceiv'd;

And glad all heaven with millions thou haft fav'd.

Confefs the various attributes of fame
Collected and complete in William's name ;
To all the liftening world relate
(As thou dost his story read)
That nothing went before fo great,
And nothing greater can fucceed.
II.

Thy native Latium was thy darling care,
Prudent in peace, and terrible in war:
The boldeft virtues that have govern'd earth
From Latium's fruitful womb derive their birth.
Then turn to her fair-written page;
From dawning childhood to establish'd age
The glories of her empire trace;
Confront the heroes of thy Roman race;
And let the justest palm the victor's temples
grace.

III.

The fon of Mars reduc'd the trembling fwains,
And fpread his empire o'er the diftant plains:
But yet the Sabins violated charnis
Obfcur'd the glory of his rifing arms.
On every altar laid the incenfe due ;
Numa the rights of ftrict religion knew;

Unfkill'd to dart the pointed fpear,
Or lead the forward youth to noble war.
Stern Brutus was with too much horror good,
Holding his fafces stain'd with filial blood.
Fabius was wife, but with excess of care
He fav'd his country, but prolong'd the war.
While Decius, Paulus, Curius, greatly fought,
And by their strict examples taught
How wild defires fhould he controll'd,
And how much brighter virtue was than gold;

CARMEN SECULAR E, They fcarce their fwelling thirst of fame could

FOE THE YEAR 1700.

TO THE KING.

Afpice, venturo lætentur ut omnia fæculo : "O mibi tam longa maneat pars ultima vitæ, "Spiritus, & quantum fat erit tua dicere facta!" VIRG. Eclog. iv

I.

HY elder look, great Janus, caft

TH

Into the long record of ages paft: Review the years in faireft action dreft With noted white, fuperior to the reft; Æras deriv'd, and chronicles begun, From empires founded, and from battles won ; Shew all the spoils by valiant kings atchiev'd, And groaning nations by their arms reliev'd; The wounds of patriots in their country's caufe, And happy power fuftain'd by wholesome laws; In comely rank call every merit forth, Imprint on every act its standard-worth; The glorious parallels then downward bring To modern wonders, and to Britain's king; With equal juftice, and historic care,

Their laws, their toils, their arms, with his com

pare ;

hide;

And boasted poverty with too much pride.
Excefs in youth made Scipio lefs rever'd;
And Cato, dying, seem'd to own he fear`d.
Julius with honour tam'd Rome's foreign foes;
But patriots fell, ere the dictator role:
And, while with clemency Augustus reign'd,
The monarch was ador'd; the city chain'd.
IV.

With jufteft honour be their merits drest;
But be their failings too confest:
Their virtue like their Tyber's flood
Rolling, its courfe defign'd their country's good
But oft the torrent's too impetuous speed
From the low earth tore fome polluting weed
And with the blood of Jove there always ran
Some viler part, fome tincture of the man.
V.

Few virtues after these so far prevail.

But that their vices more than turn the fcale :
Valour grown wild by pride, and power by rage,
Did the true charms of majesty impair;
Rome by degrees, advancing more in age,
Shew'd fad remains of what had once been

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