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Do'st thou not see the livid Traces
Of the sharp Scourges rude Embraces?
If yet thou feelest not the smart

of Thorns and Scourges in thy Heartg. If that be yet not crucify'd,, Look on his Hands, look on his Feet; look on his Side.

5. Operty. Oh! open wide the Fountains of thine Eyes,

And let 'em call
Their stock of moisture förth where e're it lies,
For this, will ask it all.
'Twould all alas! too little be
Tho'thy Salt Tears come froni a Sea,

Canst thou deny him this, when He
Has.open'd all his Vital Springs for thee?
Take heed; , for by his Sides mysterious Flood

May well be understood, That he will still require fonie. Waters to his Blood.



The Camelon.

S the Canelon, who is known

To have no Colours of his own ;
But borrows from his Neighbours Hue
His White, or Black, his. Green or Blue ; ;
And Struts as much in ready Light,
Which Credit gives him upon Sight;
As if the Rain-bow were in Tail
Setel'd on him, and his Heirs Male:
So the young Squire when first he comes
From Country-School; to Will's or Tom's;
And equally (G-.-d knows-) is fit

be a Statesman,, or a.Wit ;


Without one Notion of his own,
He faunters wildly up and down;
'Till fome Acquaintance, good or bad,
Takes Notice of a Staring Lad;
Admits him in amongst the Gang:
They Jest, Reply, Dispute, Harangue ::
He acts and talks, as they befriend him,
Smear'd with the Colours, which they lend him.

Thus meerly as his Fortune Chances,
His Merit or his Vice advances.

If haply he the Sect pursues,
That read and Comment upon News,
He takes up their multerious Face;
He drinks his Coffee without Lace :
This week his minic Tongue runs o'er
What they have said the Week before ;
His Wisdom fets all Europe right,
And teaches Marlb'rough when to fight:

Or if it be his fate to meet
With Folks who have more Wealth than:Wit
He loves cheap Port, and double Bub;
And fettles in the bum Drum Club;
He learns how Stocks will fall or rise;
Holds Poverty the greatest Vice;
Thinks Wit the Bane of Conversation;
And says that Learning spoils a Nation.

But if at first he minds his Hits;
And drinks Champaine aniong the Wits :
Five deep he Toasts the tow'ring Lasses;
Repeats you Verses writon Glasses;
Is in the Chair; prescribes the Law;
And lies with those he never saw..

Mr. Prior.

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The Praise of RIND A R. (In Imitation of Horace his Second Ode, B.42

Pindarum quisquis ftudet æmulari, &c.


PINDAR is imitable by none:

The Phenix Pindar is a vaft Species alone. Who e'er but Dedalus with waxen Wings cou'd fly And neither

fink too low, nor foar too high? What could he who follow'd claim, But of vain Boldness the unhappy Fame',

And by his Fall a Sea to Name?

Pindar's unnavigable Song, Like a swoln Flood from some steep Mountain poucs

(along. The Ocean meets with such a Voice, Fron his enlarged Mouth, as drowns the Ocean's

( Noise.

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So Pindar does new Words and Figures roul
Down his impetuous Dithyrambique Tide

Which in no Channel deigns t'abide,
Which neither Banks nor Dikes controul,
Whether th' Immortal Gods he sings

In a no-less Inimortal strain
Or the great Aêts of God-descended Kings,
Who in his Numbers still survive and Reign.

Each rich embroider'd Line,
Which their triumphant Broups around,

By his Sacred Hand is bound,
Does all their starry Diadems out shine..

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3. Whether at Pisa's Race he please

To carve in poliiht Verse the Conquerors Images ; i Whether the swift, the skilful, or the strong

Be crowned in his Nimble, Artful, Vigorous Song :
Whether some brave young Man's untimely fate
In Words worth dying for he celebrate,

Such mournful and such pleasing words,
As Joy to his Mothers and Miftress Grief affords:

He bids him Live and Grow in fame,

Among the Stars he fticks his Name : The Grave can but the Drofs of him devour, So fmall'is Deaths, fo great the Poets power.

Lo, how th” obsequious Wind, and fwelling Air

The Theban Smar does upwards bear
Into theWalks of Clouds, where he does play,
And with extended Wings opens his liquid way.

Whilft, alas, my timorous Mufe
Unanibitious Tracts parfues ;
Does with weak unballaft Wings
About the mosly Brooks and Springs g.
About the Trees new-blossom'd Heads,
About the Gardens painted Beds,
About the Fields and flowry Meads,
And all inferiour beauteous Things

Like the laborious Bee

For little Drops of Honey flee, And there with humble Sweets contents her Industry.


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By a Person of Honour.


She lay in the Plain, his Arm under his Head,

And his Flock feeding by, the fond Celadon said, If Love's a sweet Paflion, why does it Torment? If a bitter, said he, whence are Lovers content? Since I suffer with Pleasure, why shou'd I complain, Or grieve at my Fate when I know 'tis in vain? Yet fo pleasing the Pain is, so soft is the Dart, That at once it both wounds me,and tickles my Heart Tony felf I sigh often without knowing why, And when absent from Phillis methinks I could die; But, Oh! what a Pleasure ftill follows my Pain, When kind Fortune does help me to see her again, In her Eyes (the bright Stars that foretel what's to

(come By sofr stealth now and then I examine my Doom. I press her Hand gently, look languishing down, And by passionate Silence I make my Love known; But, Oh! how I'm bless’d, when so kind she does

(prove, By fume willing Mistake to discover her Love : When in striving to hide, she reveals all her Flarse, And our Eyes tell each other what neither dare name,

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