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In borrow'd figures loosely ran,
Europa's buil, and Leda's fwan :
For this he reaffumes the nod,
(While Semele commands the god)
Launches the boat, and shakes the poles,
Tho' Momus laughs, and Juno fcolds.
Here lift'ning Cloe finil'd, and faid,
Your riddle is not hard to read:
I guess it- -Fair one, if you do,
Need I, alas! the theme purfue?
For this thou fee'ft, for this I leave
Whate'er the world thinks wife or grave.
Ambition, bus'nefs, friendship, news,
My useful books and serious Mufe:
For this I willingly decline
The mirth of feafts and joys of wine,
And chufe t› fit and talk with thee
(As thy great orders ma decree)
Of cocks and bulls, of flutes and fiddles,
Of idle tales, and foolish riddles.

AN EXTEMPORE INVITATION

MY LORD,

TO THE EARL OF OXFORD,

Lord High Treasurer, 1712.

OUR 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 trufts to Harley's cares,
Thou, humble Statefman, may'ft defcend
Thy mind one moment to unbend,
To fee thy fervant from his foul

Crown with thy health the fprightly bowl,
Among the guests, which e'er my house
Receiv'd it never can produce

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Of honour a more glorious proof-
Tho' Dorfet us'd to blefs the roof.

WRITTEN AT PARIS, 1700,

14.

IN THE BEGINNING OF ROBE'S GEOGRAPHY.

F all that William rules, or Robe

OF

Defcribes, great Rhea, of thy globe,

When or on pofthorse or in chaise,
With much expence and little ease,
My deftin'd miles I fhall have gone,
By Thames, or Maefe, by Po, or Rhone,
And found no foot of earth my own;
Great Mother, let me once be able
To have a garden, house, and stable,.
That I may read, and ride, and plant,
Superior to defire or want;

And as health fails, and years increase,
Sit down and think, and die in peace.
Oblige thy fav'rite undertakers
To throw me in but twenty acres;
This number sure they may allow,
For pafture ten, and ten for plough;
'Tis all that I would wifh or hope,
For me, and John, and Nell, and Crop.
Then as thou wilt difpofe the reft
(And let not Fortune spoil the jeft)
To thofe who at the market-rate
Can barter honour for eftate.

Now if thou grant'ft me my request,
To make thy vot'ry truly bleft,
Let curft Revenge and faucy Pride
To fome bleak rock far off be ty'd,'
Nor e'er approach my rural feat,
To tempt me to be base and great.
And, Goddefs, this kind office done,
Charge Venus to command her fon
(Wherever e fe fhe lets him rove).
To fhun my houfe, and field, and grove:
Peace cannot dwell with Hate or Love.

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DICTATE, O was anden,

ICTATE, O mighty Judge, what thou hast seen

And deign to let thy fervant hold the pen.

Thro' ages, thus, I may prefume to live,
And from the tranfcript of thy profe receive
What my own fhort-liv'd verse can never give.

Thus fhall fair Britain, with a gracious fmile,
Accept the work, and the inftructed ifle
For more than treaties made fhall blefs my

Nor longer hence the Gallic ftyle preferr'd,
Wifdom in English idiom shall be heard,

toil.

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While Talbot tells the world where Montaigne err'd.

WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF

MEZERAY'S HISTORY OF FRANCE.

WBy law and wit, by fword and gun,

HATE'ER thy countrymen have done

In thee is faithfully recited,

And all the living world that view
Thy work, give thee the praifes due
At once inftructed and delighted.

II.

Yet for the fame of all thefe deeds
What beggar in the invalids,

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With lameness broke, with blindness smitten,
Wish'd ever decently to die,

To have been either Mezeray,

III.

Or any Monarch he has written?

It's ftrange, dear Author, yet it true is,
That down from Pharamond to Louis
All covet life, yet call it pain,
And feel the ill, yet fhun the cure:
Can fenfe this paradox endure ?
Refolve me, Cambray, or Fontaine.

IV.

The man in graver tragic known
(Tho' his belt part long fince was done)
Still on the Stage defires to tarry,
And he who play'd the Harlequin,
After the jeft ftill loads the scene,
Unwilling to retire tho' weary.

Written in the

NOUVEAUX INTERESTS

DES PRINCES DE L'EUROPE.

BLEST be the princes who have fought

For pompous names or wide dominion, Since by their error we are taught

That happiness is but opinion.

WRITTEN IN AN OVID.

VID is the fureft guide

OVID

You can name to show the way

To any woman, maid, or bride,
Who refolves to go aftray.

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VERSES

Spoken to

LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH HOLLES HARLEY,

Countess of Oxford.

In the Library of St. John's College, Cambridge, Nov. 9, 1719. MADAM,

SINCE Anna vifited the Mufe's feat,

(Around her tomb let weeping angels wait)
Hail, thou, the brighteft of thy fex, and best,
Moft gracious neighbour and most 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,

And their great foll'wers whom this House has bred,
To study leflons from thy morals giv'n,

And shining characters imprefs'd by Heav'n.
Science in books no longer we purfue,
Minerva's felf in Harriet's face we view;
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 mem'ry of fome bounteous king:
With grateful hand due altars let them raife
To fome good knight's or holy prelate's praise;
We tune our voices to a nobler theme,
Your eyes we blefs, your praifes we proclaim;
Saint John's was founded in a woman's name.
Enjoin'd by Statute, to the Fair we bow;
In fpite of time we keep our ancient vow;
What Margret Tudor was, is Harriet Harley now.

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