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The barb'rous rage that durft attempt thy life,
Harley, great counsellor, extends thy fame :.
And the sharp point of cruel Guiscard's knife,
In brass and marble carves thy deathless name.
v. .' Faithful affertor of thy country's cause,
Britain with tears shall bathe thy glorious wound :: She for thy safety shall.enlarge her laws; And in her statutes shall thy worth be found.
Yet 'midft her fighs she triumphs, on the hand
Reflecting, that diffus?d the public woc;,
A stranger to her altars, and her land ::
No son of hers could' meditate this blow.
. . VH. • .
Mean time thy. pain is gracious Anna's care:
Our queen, our saint, with facrificing breath
Softens thy anguish: in her pow'rful pray'r
She pleads thy service, and forbids thy death.
Great as thou art, thou canst demand no more,
O breast bewaila by earth, preserv'd ty Heav'nl No higher can aspiring virtue foar :
Enough to thee of grief, and fame is given,
AN EXTEMPORE INVITATION TO THE EARL OX
OXFORD, LORD HIGH TREASURER, 1712.
O UR weekly friends to-morrow meet
| At Matthew's palace, in Duke-street,
To try for once, if they can dine
On bacon-ham, and mutton-chine: .
If weary?d with the great affairs,
Which Britain trusts to Harley's cares,
Thou, 'humblest statesman, may'st defcend,
Thy mind one moment to unbend;
To see thy servant from his soul
Crown with thy health the sprightly bowl.is
Among the guests, which e'er my house
Receiv’d, it never can produce
Of honour a.more glorious proof
Tho' Dorset us'd to bless the roof.
In CHAUCER's Style.
ITWAY mice, full blythe, and amicable,
1 Batten belde Erle Robert's table.
Lies there ne trap their necks to catch,
Ne old black cat their fteps to watch.
Their fill they eat of fowl and filh ;
Feast lyche.as heart of mouse more with.
As guests 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' Gide;
To thee, 'lean bard, it doth partain
To understand these creatures tweine.
Come frame us now some clear device,
Or playsant rhime on yonder mice :
They seem, God fhield me, Mat. and Charles,
Bad as Sir Topaz, or Squire Quarles
(Matthew did for the nonce reply)
At emblem, or device am 1:
But could I chaunt, or rlryme, pardie,
Clear as Dan Chaucer, or as thee :
Ne.verse from me (so God me fhrive)
One mouse, or other beast alive,
Certes, I have these many days
Sent myne poetic herd to graze.
Ne armed knight ydred in war
With lyon fierce will I compare :
Ne judge unjust, with furred fox, .
Harming in secret guise the flocks :
Ne priest unworth of goddess coat,
To swine ydrunk, or filthy stoat.
Elk fimile farewell for aye,
From elephant, I trow, to flea.
Reply'd the friendlike peer, I weene,
Matthew is angred on the spleen.
Ne so, quoth Mat.' ne fhall be e'er,
With wit that falleth all so fair :
Eftfoons, well weet ye, mine intent
Boweth to your commandement,
If by these creatures ye have seen,
Pourtrayed Charles and Matthew been;"
Behoveth neet to wreck my brain,
The rest in order to explain.
That cup-board, where the mice disport,
I liken to * St. Stephen's court :
Therein is space enough, I trow,
For elk comrade to come and goe:
And therein eke may both be fed
With thiver of the wheaten bread.
And when, as these mine eyne survey,
They cease to skip, and squeak and play;
Return they may to diff'rent cells,
Auditing one, whilst t'other Tells.
Dear Robert, quoth the Saint, whose mind,
In bounteous deeds no mean can bind;
Now as I hope to grow devout,
I deem this matter well made out.
Laugh I, whilst thus I serious pray ?
Let that be wrought which Mat. doth say:
Yea, quoth the ERLE, but not to-day.
T ULL oft doth Mat. with Topaz dine,
Lateth bak'd meats, drinketh Greek wine;
But Topaz his own werke rehearseth;
And Mat. mote praise what Topaz verseth.
Now sure as priest did e'er fhrive Ginnerg
Full hardly earneth Mat. his dinner.
TTAIR Susan did her wif-hede well mainteine,
IT Algates assaulted fore by letchours tweine :
Now, and I read aright that auncient song,
Olde were the paramours, the dame full young.
Had thilke fame tale in other guise been tolde; Had they been young (pardie) and the been olde : That, by St. Kit, had wrought much forer tryal ; Full marveillous, I wote, were swilk denyal.
A FLOWER painted by SIMON VARELS T.
TTTHEN fam'd Varelft this little wonder drew;
V Flora vouchsaf’d the growing work to view; Finding the painter's science at a stand, The goddess snatch'd the pencil from his hand ; And finishing the piece, she smiling faid: Behold one work of mine, that ne'er shall fade.
To the Lady ELIZABETH HARLEY, since Mar
chioness of CARMARTHEN, on a column of her drawing.
TITHEN future ages shall with wonder view
These glorious lines, which Harley's daugh
ter drew; They shall confess that Britain could not raise A fairer column to the father's praise.