Each, when his ruftic pains began, Or who went on to work till night. And favour to a court's affection; And fons of Anftis by election. Kingfale! eight hundred years have roll'd, Add, that my kindred do fo now. The man who by his labour gets THE INSATIABLE PRIEST. LUKE Preach-ill admires what we Laymen can mean, That thus by our profit and pleasure are sway'd, He has but three livings, and would be a Dean; And, to take off his thoughts from the things of this earth, He can be content with two thousand a year. * Garter King at Arms. 2 A FRENCH A FRENCH SONG IMITATED. WHY HY thus from the plain does my shepherdess rove, Forfaking her swain, and neglecting his love? You have heard all my grief, you see how I die, Oh! give fome relief to the swain whom you fly. How can you complain, or what am I to say, Since my dog lies unfed, and my sheep run aftray ? Need I tell what I mean, that I languish alone! When I leave all the plain, you may guess 'tis for One. A CASE STATE D. NOW how fhall I do with my love and my pride, *Mr. Shelton. 52 + Mrs. Durham. UPON UPON PLAYING AT OMBRE WITH TWO LADIE S. I KNOW that Fortune long has wanted fight, yet That, as she wanted eyes, she could not hear; Yet fhe, ftill contradicting, gifts imparts, CUPID'S PROMISE, A FRENCH SONG, paraphrafed. OFT Cupid, wanton, amorous boy, SOFT The other day, mov'd with my lyre, In flattering accents spoke his joy, And utter'd thus his fond defire. Oh! raife thy voice! one Song I afk; To Thyrfis eafy is the task, Who can fo fweetly play and fing. Twe Two kiffes from my mother dear, Thyris, thy due reward fhall be ; None, none, like Beauty's Queen is fair, I ftrait reply'd, Thou know'ft alone If thou 'It be kind, and make me bleft. But, oh my Chloe, beauteous maid! TO THE EARL OF OXFORD. Written extempore, in Lady OXFORD's Study, 1717. PEN, ink, and wax, and paper, fend To the kind wife, the lovely friend : Smiling, bid her freely write What her happy thoughts indite; A LETTER to the Honourable Lady MARGARET CAVENDISH HARLEY, when a Child. MY noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my first epistle beg you, At dawn of morn and clofe of even, And fo I reft your conftant friend. } LINES written under the Print of Toм BRITTON the Sinall-coal-man, painted by Mr. WOOLAS TON. T HOUGH doom'd to fmall-coal, yet to arts ally'd, Rich without wealth, and famous without pride; Mufick's beft patron, judge of books and men, Belov'd and honour'd by Apollo's train : In Greece or Rome fure never did appear So bright a genius, in so dark a sphere: More of the man had artfully been sav'd, Had Kneller painted, and had Vertue grav'd. TRUTH |