EARL of OXFORD, Lord HIGH TREASURER. 1712.
UR Weekly Friends To-morrow meet
At MATTHEW's Palace, in Drake-ftreet ;
To try for once, if They can Dine
On Bacon-Ham, and Mutton-chine:
If weary'd with the great Affairs,
Which BRITAIN trufts to HARLEY'S Cares,
Thou, humble Statefiman, may'st defcend,
Thy Mind one Moment to unbend;
To fee Thy Servant from his Souli
Crown with Thy Health the fprightly Bowl:
Among the Guests, which e'er
Receiv'd, it never can produce
Of Honor a more glorious Proof.
Tho' DORSET us'd to blefs the Roof,
In CHAUCER's Style.
WAY Mice, full Blythe and Amicable, Batten befide Erle ROBERT's Table. Lies there ne Trap their Necks to catch, Ne old black Cat their Steps to watch.
Their Fill they eat of Fowl and Fish;
Feaft-lyche as Heart of Moufe mote wifh.
As Guefts fat Jovial at the Board,
Forth leap'd our Mice: Eftfoons the Lord
Of BOLING, whilome JoHN the SAINT,
Who maketh oft Propos full queint,
Laugh'd jocund, and aloud He cry'd,
TO MATTHEW feated on t'oth' fide;
To Thee, lean Bard, it doth partain
To understand thefe Creatures Tweine.
Come frame Us now fome clean Device,
Or playfant Rhime on yonder Mice:
They feem, God fhield Me, 'MAT. and CHARLES.
Bad as Sir TOPAZ, or 'Squire QUARLES
(MATTHEW did for the nonce reply)
At Emblem, or Device am I:
But could I Chaunt, or Rhyme, pardie,
Clear as Dan CHAUCER, or as Thee;
Ne Verfe from Me (fo God me fhrive)
On Mouse, or other Beaft alive.
Certes, I have these many Days
Sent myne Poetic Herd to graze.
Ne Armed Knight ydrad in War
With Lyon fierce will I compare:
Ne Judge unjuft, with furred Fox,
Harming in Secret Guise the Flocks:
Ne Priest unworth of Goddess Coat,
To Swine ydrunk, or filthy Stoat.
Elk Simile farwell for aye,
From Elephant, I trow, to Flea.
Reply'd the friendlike Peer, I weene,
MATTHEW is angred on the Spleen,
Ne fo, quoth MAT. ne fhall be e'er,
With Wit that falleth all fo fair:
Eftfoons, well weet Ye, mine Intent
Boweth to your Commaundement.
If by these Creatures Ye have seen,
Pourtrayed CHARLES and MATTHEW boen;
Behoveth neet to wreck my Brain,
The reft in Order to explain.
That Cup-board, where the Mice difport,
I liken to St. * STEPHEN's Court:
Therein is Space enough, I trow,
For elke Comrade to come and goe:
And therein eke may Both be fed
With Shiver of the Wheaten Bread.
And when, as these mine Eyen furvey,
They cease to skip, and fqueak, and play;
Return they may to different Cells,
AUDITING One, whift t'other TELLS.
Dear ROBERT, quoth the SAINT, whofe Mind In Bounteous Deed no Mean can bind;
Now as I hope to grow devout,
I deem this Matter well made out.
Laugh I, whilft thus I ferious Pray?
Let that be wrought which MAT. doth say:
Yea, quoth the ERLE; but not To-day.
ULL oft doth MAT. with TOPAZ dine,
Eateth bak'd Meats, drinketh Greek Wine:
But TOPAZ his own. Werke rehearseth;
And MAT. mote praise what TOPAZ verfeth,
Now fure as Priest did e'er fhrive Sinner,
Full hardly earneth MAT. his Dinner.
In the fame Style.
SUSAN did her Wif-hede well menteine,
Algates affaulted fore by Letchours tweine:
Now, and I read aright that Auncient Song,
Olde were the Paramours, the Dame full yong.
Had thilke fame Tale in other Guife been tolde;
Had They been Yong (pardie) and She been Olde;
That, by S KIT, had wrought much forer Tryal;
had wrought wi
Full merveillous, I wote, were fwilk Denyal.
HEN fam'd VARELST this little Wonder drew;
FLORA Vouchfaf'd the growing Work to view:
Finding the Painter's Science at a Stand,
The Goddess fnatch'd the Pencil from his Hand;
And finishing the Piece, She fmiling faid;
Behold One Work of Mine, that ne'er fhall fade.1
Lady ELIZABETH HARLET, Since Marchioness of CARMARTHEN, One Column of Her Drawing.
WHEN future Ages fhall with Wonder view
Thefe glorious Lines, which HARLEY's Daughter They fhall confefs, that BRITAIN could not raise [drew; A fairer Column to the Father's Praife.
WHEN Poets wrote, and Painters drew,
As Nature pointed out the View:
E'er GOTHIC Forms were known in GREECE,
To spoil the well-proportion'd Piece :
And in our Verfe e'er Monkifh Rhimes
Had jangl'd their fantastic Chimes:
E'er on the flow'ry, Lands of RHODES
Those Knights had fix'd their dull Abodes,
Who knew not much to paint or write,
Nor car'd to pray, nor dar'd to fight:
PROTOGENES, Hiftorians note,
Liv'd there, a Burgess Scot and Lot;
And, as old PLINY'S Writings show,
APELLES did the fame at Co.
|