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"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."

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

Oh! are 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:

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.

APOLOGY TO A LADY,

WHO TOLD ME, I COULD NOT LOVE HER HEARTILY, BECAUSE I HAD LOVED OTHERS.

PROBABLY BY MR. PRIOR.

IN IMITATION OF MR. WALLER.

FAIR Sylvia, cease to blame my youth, For having lov'd before;

So men, ere they have learnt the truth,
Strange deities adore.

My youth ('tis true) has often rang'd,
Like bees o'er gaudy flowers;
And many thousand loves has chang'd,
Till it was fixt in yours.

For, Sylvia, when I saw those eyes,
'Twas soon determin'd there;
Stars might as well forsake the skies,
And vanish into air!

If I from this great rule do err,
New beauties to explore;
May I again turn wanderer,
And never settle more!

AGAINST MODESTY IN LOVE.

For many unsuccessful years
At Cynthia's feet I lay;

And often bath'd them with my tears,
Despair'd, but durst not pray.

No prostrate wretch, before the shrine

Of any saint above,

E'er thought his goddess more divine,

Or paid more awful love.

Still the disdainful dame look'd down
With an insulting pride;
Receiv'd my passion with a frown,
Or toss'd her head aside.

3 By the manner in which this and the two following little pieces are printed in the Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany Poems, there is little doubt but they are the productions of the excellent pocs to whom I have ascribed them. N

When Cupid whisper'd in my ear,

"I'se more prevailing charms, Fond, whining, modest fool, draw near,

And clasp her in your arms.

"With eager kisses tempt the maid, From Cynthia's feet depart; The lips he warmly must invade,

Who would possess the heart."

With that I shook off all my fears,
My better fortune try'd ;

And Cynthia gave what she for years
Had foolishly deny`d.

ON

A YOUNG LADY'S GOING TO TOWN

ONE

IN THE SPRING.

Ne night unhappy Celadon,

Beneath a friendly myrtle's shade, With folded arms and eyes cast down,

Gently repos'd his love-sick head:

Whilst Thyrsis, sporting on the neighbouring plain, Thus heard the discontented youth complain:

"Ask not the cause why sickly flowers Faintly recline their drooping heads; As fearful of approaching showers,

They strive to hide them in their beds, Grieving with Celadon they downward grow, And feel with him a sympathy of woe.

"Chloris will go; the cruel fair, Regardless of her dying swain, Leaves him to languish, to despair,

And murmur out in sighs his pain. The fugitive to fair Augusta flies,

To make new зlaves, and gain new victories."

So restless monarchs, though possess'd
Of all that we call state or power,
Fancy themselves but incanly blest,

Vainly ambitious still of more.

Round the wide world impatiently they roam,
Not satisfy'd with private sway at home.

WHEN THE CAT IS AWAY,
THE MICE MAY PLAY.

A FABLE, INSCRIBED TO DR. SWIFT.
PROBABLY BY MR. PRIOR.

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

A 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.

6 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. N.

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.
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 out-shona,
And in his lady's favour none
Was then preferr'd before him.
Pert Mrs. Abigail alone

Envy'd Grimalkin's glory:
Her favourite lap-dog now was grow
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, whatso'er coines 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
Produc'd a thing amazing;
The favourite cat's a victim made,
To satisfy this prating jade,

And fairly turn'd a-grazing.

Now lap-dog is again restor'd
Into his lady's favour;
Sumptuously kept at bed and board,
And he (so Nab has given her word)
Shall from all vermin save her.
Nab much exults at this success,
And overwhelm'd with joy,

Her lady fondly does caress,
And tells her, Fubb can do no less
Than ail her foes destroy.

But vain such hopes; the mice that filed
Return, now Grim's discarded;
Whilst Fubb till ten, on silken bed,
Securely lolls his drowsy head,

And leaves cheese unregarded.

Nor rats nor mice the lap-dog fear,
Now uncontroll'd their theft is:
And whatsoe'er the vermin spare,
Nab and her dog betwixt them share,
Nor pie nor pippin left is.

Mean while, to cover their deceit,

At once, and slander Grim;
Nab says, the cat comes, out of spite,
To rob her lady every night,

So lays it all on him.
Nor corn secure in garret high,

Nor cheesecake safe in closet;
The cellars now unguarded lie,
On every shelf the vermin prey;
And still Grimalkin does
sta

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"I am a cat of honour."-" Stay!

Quoth she, 66 no longer parley;
Whate'er you did in battle slay,
By law of arms, became your prey:
I hope you won it fairly.

"Of this we'll grant you stand acquit,
But not of your outrages:
Tell me, perfidious! was it fit
To make my cream a perquisite,
And steal, to mend your wages?

"So flagrant is thy insolence,

So vile thy breach of trust is, That longer with thee to dispense, Were want of power, or want of senseHere, Towzer!-do him justice."

SONGS,

SET TO MUSIC BY THE MOST EMINENT MASTERS

THE WIDOW AND HER CAT:
A FABLE.

A WIDOW kept a favourite cat,

At first a gentle creature;
But, when he was grown sleek and fat,
With many a mouse, and many a rat,
He soon disclos'd his nature.

The fox and he were friends of old,
Nor could they now be parted;
They nightly slunk to rob the fold,
Devour'd the lambs, the fleeces sold;
And puss grew lion-hearted.

He scratch'd the maid, he stole the cream,
He tore her best lae'd pinner;

Nor Chanticleer upon the beam,

Nor chick, nor duckling, 'scapes, when Grim Invites the fox to dinner.

The dame full wisely did decree,

For fear he should dispatch more,
That the false wretch should worried be;
But, in a saucy manner, he

Thus speech'd it like a Lechmere':
"Must I, against all right and law,
Like pole-cat vile be treated?
I, who so long with tooth and claw,
Have kept domestic mice in awe,
And foreign foes defeated!

"Your golden pippins, and your pies,
How oft have I defended!
"Tis true, the pinner, which you prize,
I tore in frolic; to your eyes
I never harm intended.

7 In Tindal's Continuation of Rapin, XVII. 454, this fable is said to be by Prior or Swift. In Boyer's Political State, 1720, p. 519, where it is applied to the duke of Marlborough, it is said to be by Swift or Prior. N.

The celebrated lawyer. N.

I. SET BY MR. ABEL.

READING ends in melancholy;

Wine breeds vices and diseases; Wealth is but care, and love but folly; Only friendship truly pleases.

My wealth, my books, my flask, my Molly: Farewell all, if friendship ceases.

II. SET BY MR. PURCELL.

WHITHER would my passion run?
Shall I fly her, or pursue her ?
Losing her, I am undone;

Yet would not gain her, to undo her.

Ye tyrants of the human breast,

Love and Reason! cease your war, And order Death to give me rest; So each will equal triumph share.

III. SET BY MR. DE FESCH

STREPHONETTA, why d'ye fly me,
With such rigour in your eyes?
Oh! 'tis cruel to deny me,
Since your charms I so much prize.
But I plainly see the reason,

Why in vain I you pursued;
Her to gain 'twas out of season,
Who before the chaplain woo'd.

IV. SET BY MR. SMITH,

COME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain; Torment not thus your pretty heart: Think, Flavia, we may meet again,

As well as, that we now inust part. You sigh and weep; the gods neglect That precious dew your eyes let fall: Our joy and grief with like respect They mind; and that is, not at alk

We pray, in hopes they will be kind,

As if they did regard our state: They hear; and the return we find

Is, that no prayer can alter Fate.

Then clear your brow, and look more gay,
Do not yourself to grief resign ;
Who knows but that those powers may,
The pair they now have parted, join?
But since they have thus cruel been,

And could such constant lovers sever; I dare not trust, lest, now they're in, They should divide us two for ever. Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve,

Remembering though upon what score; This our last parting look believe,

Believe we must embrace no more. Yet should our Sun shine out at last,

And Fortune, without more deceit, Throw but one reconciling cast,

To make two wandering lovers meet;

How great then would our pleasure be,
To find Heaven kinder than believ'd;
And who had no hopes to sce

we,

Each other, to be thus deceiv'd! But say, should Heaven bring no relief, Suppose our Sun should never rise: Why then what's due to such a grief, We've paid already with our eyes.

V. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

LET perjur'd fair Amynta know,
What for her sake I undergo;
Tell her for her how I sustain
A lingering fever's wasting pain ;
Tell her the torments I endure,
Which only, only she can cure.

But, oh! she scorns to hear, or see,
The wretch that lies so low as me;
Her sudden greatness turns her brain,
And Strephon hopes, alas! in vain;
For ne'er 'twas found (though often try'd)
That Pity ever dwelt with Pride.

VI. SET BY MR. SMITH.

PHILLIS, since we have both been kind,
And of each other had our fill ;
Tell me what pleasure you ca. find,
In forcing Nature 'gainst her will.
'Tis true, you may with art and pain,
Keep in some glowings of desire;
But still those glowings which remain,
Are only ashes of the fire.

Then let us free each other's soul,

And laugh at the dull constant fool, Who would love's liberty control,

And teach us how to whine by rule.

Let us no impositions set,

Or clogs upon each other's heart;
But, as for pleasure first we met,
So now, for pleasure let us part.

We both have spent our stock of love,
So consequently should be free;
Thyrsis expects you in yon grove,
And pretty Chloris stays for me.

VII. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

PHILLIS, this pious talk give o'er,
And modestly pretend no more;
It is too plain an art :
Surely you take me for a fool,
And would by this prove me so dull,

As not to know your heart.

In vain you fancy to deceive,
For truly I can ne'er believe

But this is all a sham:
Since any one may plainly see,
You'd only save yourself with me,
And with another damn.

VIII. SET BY MR. SMITH.

STILL, Dorinda, I adore,
Think I mean not to deceive you;
For I lov'd you much before,
And, alas! now love you more,
Though I force myself to leave you.

Staying, I my vows shall fail;
Virtue yields as love grows stronger;
Fierce desires will sure prevail;
You are fair, and I am frail,
And dare trust myself no longer.

You, my love, too nicely coy,
Lest I should have gain'd the treasure,
Made my vows and oaths destroy
The pleasing hopes I did enjoy
Of all my future peace and pleasure.
To my vows I have been true,
And in silence hid my anguish,

But I cannot promise too What my love may make me do, While with her for whom I languish.

For in thee strange magic lies,
And my heart is too, too tender;
Nothing's proof against those eyes,
Best resolves and strictest ties
To their force must soon surrender.

But, Dorinda, you're severe,
I most doating, thus to sever;
Since from all I hold most dear,
That you may no longer fear,
I divorce myself for ever.

IX. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

Is it, O Love, thy want of eyes,

Or by the Fates decreed,
That hearts so seldom sympathize,

Or for each other bleed?

If thou would'st make two youthful hearts One amorous shaft obey;

"Twould save thee the expense of darts,

And more extend thy sway.

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XI. SET BY MR. SMITH.

SINCE my words, though ne'er so tender,
With sincerest truth exprest,
Cannot make your heart surrender,

Nor so much as warm your breast:
What will move the springs of nature?
What will make you think me true!
Tell me, thou mysterious creature,
Tell poor Strephon what will do.
Do not, Charmion, rack your lover,
Thus, by seeming not to know
What so plainly all discover,

What his eyes so plainly show.
Fair one, 'tis yourself deceiving,
"Tis against your reason's laws:
Atheist-like (th' effect perceiving)
Still to disbelieve the cause.

A Leonora, whose blest birth Has no relation to this Earth.

XV. SET BY MR. SMITH.

ONCE I was unconfin'd and free,
Would I had been so still!
Enjoying sweetest liberty,
And roving at my will.

But now, not master of my heart,
Cupid does so decide,
That two she-tyrants shall it part,
And so poor me divide.
Victoria's will I must obey,

She acts without control:
Phiilis has such a taking way,
She charms my very soul.

Deceiv'd by Phillis' looks and smiles,
Into her snares I run:
Victoria shows me all her wiles,
Which yet I dare not shun.

From one I fancy every kiss

Has something in't divine:
And, awful, taste the balmy bliss,
That joins her lips with mine.
But, when the other I embrace,
Though she be not a queen,
Methinks 'tis sweet with such a lass
To tumble on the green.

Thus here you see a shared heart,
But I, meanwhile, the fool:
Each in it has an equal part,
But neither yet the whole.
Nor will it, if I right forecast,
To either wholly yield:

I find the time approaches fast,
When both must quit the field.

XII. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

MORELLA, charming without art,
And kind without design,

Can never lose the smallest part
Of such a heart as mine.

Oblig'd a thousand several ways,
It ne'er can break her chains;

While passion, which her beauties raise,
My gratitude maintains.

XIII. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

Love!, inform thy faithful creature
How to keep his fair one's heart;
Must it be by truth of nature,
Or by poor dissembling art?

Tell the secret show the wonder,
How we both may gain our ends;

I am lost if we're asunder,
Ever tortur'd if we're friends.

XIV. SET BY MR. DE FESCH

Touch the lyre, on every string,
Touch it, Orpheus, I will sing
A song which shall immortal be;
Since she I sing's a deity;

XVI. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

FAREWELL, Amynta, we must part;
The charm has lost its power,
Which held so fast my captiv'd heart
Until this fatal hour.

Hadst thou not thus my love abus'd,
And us'd me ne'er so ill,

Thy cruelty I had excus'd,

And I had lov'd thee still.

But know, my soul disdains thy sway,
And scorns thy charms and thee,
To which each fluttering coxcomb may
As welcome be as me.

Think in what perfect bliss you reign'd,
How lov'd before thy fall;

And now, alas! how much disdain'd By me, and scorn'd by all.

Yet thinking of each happy hour,

Which I with thee have spent,
So robs my rage of all its power,
That I almost releut.

But pride will never let me bow,
No more thy charms can nove:
Yet thou art worth my pity now,
Because thou hadst iny loves

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