Forgetful of the favours kind
She had on him bestow'd,
Like Lucifer his rancorous mind,
He lov'd not her nor God.

But listen, Nero, lend thine ears,
As still thou hast them on;
Hear what Britannia says with tears,
Of Anna dead and gone.

"Oh! sacred be her memory,
For ever dear her name!
There never was, nor e'er can be,
A brighter, juster dame.

"Blest be my sons, and eke all those
Who on her praises dwell!

She conquer'd Britain's fiercest foes,
She did all queens excel.

"All princes, kings, and potentates,

Ambassadors did send:

All nations, provinces, and states,
Sought Anna for their friend.

"In Anna they did all confide,
For Anna they could trust:
Her royal faith they all had tried,
For Anna still was just.

"Truth, mercy, justice, did surround
Her awful judgment seat,

In her the Graces all were found,

In Anna all complete.

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'She held the sword and balance right, And sought her people's good:

In clemency she did delight,

Her reign not stain'd with blood.

'Her gracious goodness, piety, In all her deeds did shine, And bounteous was her charity; All attributes divine.

"Consummate wisdom, meekness all,
Adorn'd the words she spoke;
When they from her fair lips did fall;
And sweet her lovely look.

"Ten thousand glorious deeds to crown,
She caus'd dire war to cease:
A greater empress ne'er was known,
She fix'd the world in peace.

"This last and godlike act achiev'd,
To heaven she wing'd her flight:
Her loss with tears all Europe griev'd;
Their strength, and dear delight.

"Leave we in bliss this heavenly saint,

Revere, ye just, her urn;

Her virtues high and excellent,
Astrea gone we mourn.

"Commemorate, my sons, the day

Which gave great Anna birth:

Keep it for ever and for aye,

And annual be your mirth !"

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Illustrious George now fills the throne,
Our wise benign good king:

Who can his wondrous deeds make known?
Or his bright actions sing?

Thee, favourite Nero, he has deign'd

To raise to high degree!

Well thou thy honours hast sustain❜d,
Well vouch'd thy ancestry.

But pass-These honours on thee laid,
Can they e'er make thee white?

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Don't Gaphny's blood, which thou hast shed,
Thy guilty soul affright?

Oh! is there not, grim mortal, tell,

Places of bliss and woe?

Oh! is there not a heaven, a hell?
But whither wilt thou go?

Can nought change thy obdurate mind?.

Wilt thou for ever rail?

The prophet on thee well refin'd,

And set thy wit to sale.

How thou art lost to sense and shame,

Three countries witness be:

Thy conduct all just men do blame,

Libera nos, Domine!

Dame Justice waits thee, well I ween,

Her sword is brandish'd high:

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Nought can thee from her vengeance screen,
Nor canst thou from her fly.

Heavy her ire will fall on thee,
The glittering steel is sure:
Sooner or later, all agree,

She cuts off the impure.

To her I leave thee, gloomy peer!
Think on thy crimes committed:
Repent, and be for once sincere,
Thou ne'er wilt be De-Witted.

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WHEN THE CAT IS AWAY, THE MICE MAY PLAY.

A FABLE,* INSCRIBED TO DR. SWIFT.

In domibus Mures avido dente omnia captant:
In domibus Fures avida mente omnia raptant.

LADY once (so stories say)

By rats and mice infested,

With gins and traps long sought to slay
The thieves; but still they 'scap'd away,
And daily her molested.

Great havoc 'mongst her cheese was made,
And much the loss did grieve her:

At length Grimalkin to her aid
She call'd (no more of cats afraid),

And begg'd him to relieve her.

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The hints of this and the following fable appear to have originated from the fable of the Old Lady and her Cats, printed in the General Postscript, Nov. 7, 1709. They have been both ascribed to Dr. Swift.

Soon as Grimalkin came in view,
The vermin back retreated;
Grimalkin swift as lightning flew,
Thousands of mice he daily slew,
Thousands of rats defeated.

Ne'er cat before such glory won;
All people did adore him:
Grimalkin far all cats outshone,
And in his lady's favour none
Was then preferr'd before him.

Pert Mrs. Abigail alone

Envied Grimalkin's glory;

Her favourite lap-dog now was grown
Neglected; him she did bemoan,
And rav'd like any Tory.

She cannot bear, she swears she won't,
To see the cat regarded;

But firmly is resolv'd upon't,

And vows, that, whatsoe'er comes on't,
She'll have the cat discarded.

She begs, she storms, she fawns, she frets,

Her arts are all employ'd,

And tells her lady, in a pet,

Grimalkin cost her more in meat

Than all the rats destroy'd.

At length this spiteful waiting-maid
Produced a thing amazing :
The favourite cat's a victim made,

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