Lady HENRIETTA-CAVENDISH-HOLLES HARLEY, Countefs of OXFORD.
In the LIBRARY of ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, Cambridge. November 9, 1719.
SINCE Anna vifited the Mufes' feat
(Around her tomb let weeping Angels wait!)
Hail Thou, the brighteft of thy fex, and best,
Moft gracious neighbour*, and moft welcome gueft.
Not Harley's felf, to Cam and Ifis dear,
In virtues and in arts great Oxford's heir;
Not He fuch prefent honour fhall receive,
As to his Confort we afpire to give.
Writings of men our thoughts to-day neglects,
To pay due homage to the fofter fex:
Plato and Tully we forbear to read,
great followers whom this houfe has bred, To ftudy leffons from thy morals given, And shining characters, imprefs'd by Heaven. Science in books no longer we pursue, Minerva's felf in Harriet's face we view;
The Family Scat was then at Wimple.
For, when with Beauty we can Virtue join,
We paint the femblance of a form divine.
Their pious incenfe let our neighbours bring,
To the kind memory of fome bounteous King;
With grateful hand, due altars let them raise,
To fome good Knight's* or holy Prelate's † praise :
We tune our voices to a nobler theme,
Your eyes we blefs, your praises we proclaim,
Saint John's was founded in a Woman's name.
Enjoin'd by ftatute, to the fair we bow;
In fpite of time, we keep our antient vow ;
What Margaret Tudor was, is Harriet Harley now.
PROLOGUE to the ORPHAN,
Represented by fome of the Westminster Scholars, at HICKFORD's Dancing-room, February 2, 1720. Spoken by Lord DUPPLIN, who acted CORDELIO the Page.
my humble comrades have me fay, Gentle Spectators, pray excufe the play? Such work by hireling actors fhould be done, Whom you may clap or hifs for half a crown.
*Sir T. White, Founder of St. John's College, Oxon. + Archbishop Laud alfo was a generous benefactor. A few lines of this Prologue occur in another; which is printed in vol. I. p. 74.
Our generous fcenes for friendship we repeat;
And, if we don't delight, at leaft we treat.
Ours is the damage, if we chance to blunder;
We may be afk'd "whofe Patent we act under?'
How fhall we gain you, à la mode de France?
We hir'd this room; but none of us can dance.
In cutting capers we shall never please :
Our learning does not lie below our knees.
Shall we procure you fymphony and found?
Then you muft each subscribe two hundred pound.
There we should fail too, as to point of voice :
Mistake us not; we're no Italian Boys.
True Britons born; from Westminster we come;
And only speak the ftyle of ancient Rome.
We would deserve, not poorly beg, applause;
And ftand or fall by Freind's and Busby's laws.
For the diftrefs'd, your pity we implore:
If once refus'd, we 'll trouble you no more,
But leave our Orphan fqualling at your door.
H with what woes am I oppreft!
W. Be ftill, you fenfelefs calf!
What if the Gods fhould make you
H. Why then I'd fing and laugh:
But, if they won't, I'll wail and cry.
W. You'll hardly laugh, before you die.
A TA L E.
NCE on a time, in fun-fhine weather,
Falfehood and Truth walk'd out together,
The neighbouring woods and lawns to view,
As oppofites will fometimes do.
Through many a blooming mead they past,
And at a brook arriv'd at last.
The purling ftream, the margin green,
With flowers bedeck'd, a vernal scene,
Invited each itinerant maid,
To eft a while beneath the fhade.
Under a fpreading beach they fat,
And pafs'd the time with female chat;
Whilft each her character maintain'd;
One spoke her thoughts, the other feign'd.
At length, quoth Falsehood, Sister Truth,
(For fo fhe call'd her from her youth),
What if, to fhun yon' fultry beam,
We bathe in this delightful stream ;
The bottom fmooth, the water clear,
And there's no prying shepherd near ?—
With all my heart, the Nymph reply'd,
And threw her snowy robes afide,
Stript herself naked to the skin,
And with a fpring leapt headlong in.
Falfehood more leifurely undreft,
And, laying by her taudry veft,
Trick'd herself out in Truth's array,
And cross the meadows tript away.
From this curft hour, the fraudful dame
Of facred Truth ufurps the name,
And, with a vile, perfidious mind,
Roams far and near, to cheat mankind;
Falfe fighs fuborns, and artful tears,
And ftarts with vain pretended fears;
In vifits, ftill appears most wise,
And rolls at church her faint-like eyes ;
Talks very much, plays idle tricks,
While rifing frock her confcience pricks;
When being, poor thing, extremely gravel'd,
She fecrets op'd, and all unravel'd.
But on the will, and fecrets tell
Of John and Joan, and Ned and Nell,
Reviling every one she knows,
As fancy leads, beneath the rofe.
Her tongue fo voluble and kind,
It always runs before her mind;
As times do ferve, the flily pleads,
And copious tears ftill fhew her needs.
With promifes as thick as weeds-
Speaks pro and con, is wondrous civil,
To-day a Saint, to-morrow Devil.
Poor Truth fhe ftript, as has been faid,
And naked left the lovely maid,
Who, fcorning from her caufe to wince,
Has gone ftark-naked ever fince;
And ever naked will appear,
Belov'd by all who Truth revere.
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