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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.
Faithful assertor 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 'midt her fighs she triumphs, on the hand:
Reflecting, that diffus?d the public woe;.
A ftranger to her altars, and her land :
No son of hers could meditate this blow.
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 bewaild by earth, preserv'd ty Heav'n No higher can aspiring virtue foar :
Enough to thee of grief, and fame is given,
AN EXTEMPORE INVITATION TO THE EARL OR OXFORD, LORD' HIGH TREASURER, 17.12.
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 wearyd 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 bowls
Among the guests, which e'er
Receiv’d, it never can produce
Of honour a more glorious proof-
Tho' Dorset us'd .to bless the roof.
WAY mice, full blythe and amicable,
Batten beide 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 fith;
Feast lyche.as heart of mouse more wilh.
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' Gde;
To thee, lean bard, it doth partain
To understand these creatures tweine.
Come frame us now some tlear 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 I :
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 beaft 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 fpace 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 egne 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, whild thus I serious 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 verseth.
Now sure as priest did e'er shrive finner,
Full hardly earneth Mat. his dinner.
TAIR Susan did her wif-hede well mainteine,
Algates affaulted 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 she been olde : That, by St. Kit, had wrought much forer tryal ; Full marveillous, I wote, were swilk denyal.
A FLOWER painted by SIMON VAR ELS T.
*HEN fam'd Varelst this little wonder drew;
Flora vouchsaf’d the growing work to view; Finding the painter's science at a ttand, The goddess snatch'd the pencil from his hand; And finishing the piece, the smiling said: Behold one work of mine, that ne'er shall fade.
To the Lady ELIZABETH HARLEY, since Mar
chioness of CARMARTHÉN, on a column of her
THEN future ages shall with wonder view
These glorious lines, which Harley's daugh.
They shall confess that Britain could not raise
A fairer column to the father's praise.