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Whoe'er their Names can in thy Nun:bers show,
Have more than Empire, and immortal grow ·
Ages to come shall scorn the Pow'rs of old
When in thy Verse of greater Gods they're told.
Our beauteous Queen, and martial Monarch's Name,
For Jove and Juno Thall be plac'd by Fame :
Thy Charles for Neptune, shall the Seas command,
And Sacharifu shall for Venus stand.
Greece shall no longer boast, nor haughty Rome,
But think from Britain all the Gods did come.


S O N G.

N vain you tell your parting Lover,

You with fair Winds may waft hini over
Alas, what Winds can happy prove,
That bear me far from what'I Love?
Alas, what Dangers on the Main
Can equal those that I sustain,
From Nighted Vows, and cold disdain?

Be gentle, and in Pity choose
To with the wildest Tempest loose;
That thrown again upon the Coast,
Where first my Shipwrack'd Heart was lost;
I may once more repeat my Pain ;
Once mure in dying Notes complair,
Of Nighted Yows, and cold Disdain.

Mr. Pricy.


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WHat art thou Spleen, which every thing doft apa?

Who never yet thy hidden Cause cou'd find,
Or fix thee to remain in one continu'd shape;

Still varying thy perplexing Formi,
Now a dead Sea thou'lt represent

A Calm of stupid Discontent,
Then clashing on the Rocks, wilt rage into a Storni.

Trembling fometimes thou dost appear, ;

Diffolv'd into a Panick Fear :
On Sleep intruding, dost thy Shadows spread

Thy gloomy Terrors round the silent Bed,
And crowd with boding Dreams the melancholy Head.

Or when the Midnight Hour is told,
And drooping Eyes thou itill doft waking hold,

Thy fond Delusions cheat the Eyes;

Before 'em antick Spectres dance,
Unusual Fires their painted Heads advance,

And airy Phantoms arise,
Such was the monstrous Vision feen,
When Brutus (now beneath his Cares oppress’d,
And all Rome's Fortunes rolling in his Breaft,

Before Philippi's latest Field,
Before his Fate did to Oétaviu's yield)

Was vanquish'd by the Spleen.

2. 2.

Fallly the mortal Part we blanie
Of our depress’d and pondrous Frams

Which till the first degrading Sin,
Let thee, its dull Attendant, in; .

Still with the other did comply,
Nor clogg'd the active Soul, dispos'd to fly,
And range the Mansions of its native Sky;

Nor whilst in his own Heaven he dwelt,
Whilft. Man his Paradise poffefs'd,
His fertile Garden in the fragrant East,

And all united Odours felt.
No pointed Sweets until thy Reign,
Cou'd shock the Sense, or in the face

A Aufh'd unhandsome Colour place.
Now the Jonquil o'ercomes the feeble Brain,

We faint beneath the Aromatick Pain,

'Till fome offensive Scent thy Powers appease, And Pleasure we resign for shortand nauseous Ease.

3. New are thy Motions and thy Dress, In every one thou dost poffess:

Here some attentive fecret Friend

Thy false Suggestions must attend, Thy whisper'd Griefs, thy fancy:d Sorrows hear, Breath'd in a Sigh, and witness’d by a Téar.

Whilst in the light and vulgar Croud

Thy Slaves more clamorous and loud,
By Laughter unprovok'd, thy Influence too confess.
In the imperious Wife thou Vapours art,

Which from o'erheated Pallions rise
In Crouds to the attractive Brain ;
Until descending thence again
Thro' the o'ercast and show'ring. Eyes,
Upon the Husban'ds softned Heart,


He the disputed Point must yield, Something resign of the contested Field; Till Lordly Man, born to Imperial fway,

Compounds for Peace to make his Right away, And Woman arm’d with Spleen does servilely obey, The Fool to invitate the Wits,

Complains of thy pretended Fits; And dulness born with him, wou'd lay

Upon thy accidential fway;
Because thou dost sometimes presume

Into the ablest Heads to come,
That often' Men of Thoughts refind,

Impatient of unequal Sense,
Sach Now Returns, where they so much dispense,
Retiring from the Croud, are to thy Shades

(confin'd. In me,

alas ! thou dost too much prevail, I feel thy Force, while I against thee rail; I feel my Verse decay, and my cranipt Numbers Through thy black Jaundice I all Objects see,

As dark and terrible as thee, My Lines decry'd, and my Employment thought An useless Folly, or prefumptuous Fault:

While in the Muses Paths I stray, While in their Groves, and by their Springs, My Hand delights to trace uncommon Things, And deviates from the known and common way.

Nor will in fading Silks compose

Faintly th' inimitable Rose; Fill up an ill-drawn Bird, or paint on Glass The Sovereign's blurra and undistinguish'd Face, The threatning Angel, and the speaking Afs.



Patron thou art of every gross Abuse,

The sullen Husband's feign’d Excuse,
When the ill Humour with his Wife he spend's,
And bears recruited Wit and Spirits to his Friends.
The Son of Bacchus pleads thy Power,

As to the Glass he still repairs,

Pretends but to remove thy Cares;
Snatch from thy Shades one gay and smiling Hour,
And drown thy Kingdom with a purple Show'r.
When the Coquet, whom every Fool admires,

Wou'd in Variety be fair
And shifting hastily the Scene,

From Light, impertinent, and vain,
Assumes a soft and melancholy Air,
And of her Eyes rebates the wand'ring Fires,
The careless Posture, and the Head reclind,

The thoughtful and composed Face
Proclaiming the withdrawn and abfent Mird,

Allows the Fop more Liberty to gaze; Who gently for the tender Cause enquires :

The Cause indeed is a defect in Sense; But still the Spleen’s alledg’d, and still the dull


But these are thy fantastick Harms,
The Tricks of thy pernicious Rage,

Which do the weaker Sort engage;
Worse are the dire Effects of thy more powerful

(Charms. By thee, Religion, all we know That should enlighten her below,

Is veil'd in darkness, and perplex'd With

anxious Doubts, with endless Scruples vex'd, And some Restraint imply'd from each perverted

(Text. Whilst

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