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Thy hum'rous vine, thy pleafing folly,
Lies all neglected, all forgot,

And penfive, wav'ring melancholy,

Thou dread'ft, and hop'it, thou know'ft not what.

A PASSAGE IN THE

MORIE ENCOMIUM OF ERASMUS

IMITATED.

N awful pomp and melancholy ftate,

IN

See fettled Reafon on the judgment-feat;

10

Around her crowd Diftruft, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Forefight, and tormenting Care;
Far from the throne the trembling Pleafures ftand, 5
Chain'd up or exil'd by her stern command.
Wretched her fubjects, gloomy fits the queen,
Till happy chance reverts the cruel fcene ;
And apifh Folly, with her wild refort
Of wit and jeft, disturbs the folemn court.
See the fantastic Minstrelfy advance
To breathe the fong and animate the dance.
Bleft the ufurper! happy the furprise!
Her mimic poftures catch our eager eyes;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear,
And in the fights we fee and founds we hear,
Against our judgment the our fense employs,
The laws of troubled reafon fhe deftroys,
And in their place rejoices to indite

15

Wild schemes of mirth and plans of loofe delight. 20

IN IMITATION OF ANACREON.

LET'em cenfure, what care I?

The herd of critics I defy :

Let the wretches know I write
Regardless of their grace or spite,
No, no; the fair, the gay, the young,
Govern the numbers of my fong:

5

All that they approve is sweet,
And all is fenfe that they repeat.

Bid the warbling Nine retire:
Venus, ftring thy fervant's lyre;
Love, fhall be my endless theme;
Pleasure shall triumph over fame:
And when thefe maxims I decline,
Apollo, may thy fate be mine;
May I grasp at empty praise,

And lofe the nymph to gain the bays.

HORACE, LIB. I. EP. IX. IMITATED.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MR. HARLEY.

Septimius, Chudi, nimirum intelligit unus,
Quanti me facias, &c.

16

DEAR

EAR Dick*, howe'er it comes into his head,
Believes as firmly as he does his creed,
That you and I Sir are extremely great,
Tho' Í plain Matt, you Minister of State.
One word from me, without all doubt, he says,
Would fix his fortune in fome little place.
Thus better than myself, it seems, he knows
How far my int'reft with my patron goes,
And answering all objections I can make,
Still plunges deeper in his dear mistake.

From this wild fancy, Sir, there may proceed
One wilder yet, which I foresee and dread ;
That I in fact a real intereft have,
Which to my own advantage I would fave,
And, with the ufual courtier's trick, intend
To ferve myself, forgetful of my friend.

To fhun this cenfure I all fhame lay by,
And make my reafon with his will comply;
Hoping, for my excufe, 'twill be confeft
That of two evils I have chofe the least.

5

10

35

20

Richard Shelton, Efq, whom Mr. Prior, in his will, calls his dear friend and companion.

*

So, Sir, with this epiftolary scroll
Receive the partner of my inmoft foul;
Him you will find in letters and in laws
Not unexpert; firm to his country's caufe;
Warm in the glorious intereft you pursue,
And in one word a good man and a true.

ENIGMA.

OY birth I'm a flave, yet can give you a crown,

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I'm oblig'd by juft maxims to govern my life,
Yet I hang my own mafter and lie with his wife.
When men are a-gaming I cunningly sneak,
And their cudgels and hovels away from them take.
Fair maidens and ladies I by the hand get,

And pick off their diamonds tho' ne'er fo well fet.
For when I have comrades we rob in whole bands,
Then presently take off your lands from your hands;
But this fury once over, I've fuch winning arts,

5

That you love me much more than you do your own

hearts.

ENIGMA.

FORM'D half beneath and half above the earth,

We fifters owe to art our fecond birth;
The fmith's and carpenter's adopted daughters,
Made on the land, to travel on the waters,
Swifter they move as they are ftraiter bound,
Yet neither tread the air, or wave, or ground;
They ferve the poor for ufe, the rich for whim,
Sink when it rains, and when it freezes swim.

CANTATA.

SET BY MONS. GALLIARD.

RECIT.

BENEATH a verdant laurel's ample shade

lyre to mournful numbers rung,

12

Horace, immortal bard! fupinely laid,
To Venus thus addrefs'd the fong;
Ten thousand little loves around,
Lift'ning dwelt on ev'ry found.

ARIET.

Potent Venus, bid thy fon
Sound no more his dire alarms;
Youth on filent wings is flown;
Graver years come rolling on.
Spare my age unfit for arms :
Safe and humble let me rest,
From all am'rous care releas'd.
Potent Venus, bid thy fon

Sound no more his dire alarms.

RECIT.

Yet, Venus, why do I each morn prepare
The fragrant wreath for Cloe's hair?
Why, why do I all day lament and figh,
Unless the beauteous maid be nigh?
And why all night purfue her in my dreams
'Thro' flow'ry meads and crystal streams?

RECIT.

Thus fung the bard, and thus the goddess spoke :
Submiffive bow to Love's imperious yoke ;

Ev'ry ftate and ev'ry age

Shall own my rule and fear my rage:
Compell'd by me, thy Mufe fhall prove
That all the world was born to love,

ARIET.

Bid thy deftin'd lyre difcover

5

10

15

20

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Soft defire and gentle pain:

Often praife, and always love her;

30

Thro' her ear her heart obtain.

Verfe fhall please and fighs fhall move her,
Cupid does with Phœbus reign.

33

MIS

AN ENGLISH PADLOCK,

ISS Danae, when fair and young,
(As Horace has divinely fung)

Could not be kept from Jove's embrace
By doors of steel and walls of brass:
The reafon of the thing is clear
Would Jove the naked truth aver;
Cupid was with him of the party,
And fhew'd himself fincere and hearty;
For, give that whipfter but his errand,
He takes my Lord Chief Juftice' warrant ;
Dauntless as death away he walks,
Breaks the doors open, fnaps the locks,
Searches the parlour, chamber, study,
Nor ftops till he has culprit's body.
Since this has been authentic truth,
By age deliver'd down to youth,
Tell us, miftaken husband, tell us
Why fo myfterious, why fo jealous?
Does the restraint, the bolt, the bar,
Make us lefs curious, her lefs fair?
The fpy which does this treasure keep,
Does the ne'er fay her pray'rs nor fleep?
Does the to no excefs incline?.
Does the fly mufic, mirth, and wine ?
Or have not gold and flatt'ry pow'r
To purchase one unguarded hour?
Your care does further yet extend;
That fpy is guarded by your
friend-
But has this friend nor eye nor heart?
May he not feel the cruel dart

Which foon or late all mortals feel?
May he not, with too tender zeal,
Give the fair pris'ner caufe to fee
How much he wishes fhe were free?
May he not craftily infer

The rules of friendship too fevere,
Which chain him to a hated trust,
Which makes him wretched to be juft?
And may not fhe, this darling the,
Youthful and healthy, fleth and blood,
Eafy with him, ill us'd by thee,
Allow this logic to be good?

VOL. II.

F

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