While the fierce Monk does at his Tryal ftand;
He chews Revenge, abjuring his Offence:
Guile in his Tongue, and Murther in his Hand,
He ftabs his Judge, to prove his Innocence.
III.
The guilty Stroke and Torture of the Steel
Infix'd, our dauntless BRITON fearce perceives :
The Wounds His Counrry from His Death must feel,
The PATRIOT views; for thofe alone He grieves.
IV.
The barb'rous Rage that durft attempt Thy Life,
HARLEY, great Counsellor, extends Thy Fame:
And the fharp Point of cruel GuISCARD'S Knife,
In Brafs and Marble carves Thy deathless Name.
V.
Faithful Affertor of Thy Country's Caufe,
BRITAIN with Tears fhall bath thy glorious Wound: She for thy Safety fhall enlarge. Her Laws;
And in Her Statutes shall Thy Worth be found.
VI.
Yet 'midft Her Sighs She Triumphs, on the Hand
Reflecting, that diffus'd the Public Woe;
A Stranger to her Altars, and her Land:
No Son of Her's could meditate this Blow.
Mean Time Thy Pain is gracious ANNA's Care:
Our Queen, our Saint, with facrificing Breath
Softens Thy Anguifh: In Her pow'rful Pray'r
She pleads Thy Service, and forbids Thy Death.
VIII. Great
Great as Thou art, Thou canft demand no more,
O Breaft bewail'd by Earth, preferv'd by Heav'n!
No higher can afpiring Virtue foar:
Enough to Thee of Grief, and Fame is giv'n.
Lord HIGH TREASURER. 1712.
UR Weekly Friends To-morrow meet
At MATTHEW's Palace, in Duke-ftreet,
To try for once, if They can Dine
On Bacon-Ham, and Mutton-chine:
If weary'd with the great Affairs,
Which BRITA IN trufts to HARLEY'S Cares,
Thou, humble Statesman, may'st descend,
Thy Mind one Moment to unbend;
To fee Thy Servant from his Soul
Crown with Thy Health the sprightly Bowl:
Among the Guests, which e'er
Receiv'd, it never can produce
Of Honor a more glorious Proof-
Tho' DORSET us'd to bless the Roof..
Erle ROBERT's MIC E.
In CHAUCER's Style.
TWAY Mice, full Blythe and Amicable,
Batten befide Erle ROBERT's Table.
Lies there ne Trap their Necks to catch,
Ne old black Cat their Steps to watch.
Their Fill they eat of Fowl and Fish;
Feaft-lyche as Heart of Mouse mote wish.
As Guefts fat Jovial at the Board,
Forth leap'd our Mice: Eftfoons the Lord
Of BOLING, whilome JOHN the SAINT
Who maketh oft Propos full queint,
Laugh'd jocund, and aloud He cry'd,
TO MATTHEW feated on t'oth' fide;
To Thee, lean Bard, it doth partain
To understand thefe Creatures Tweine.
Come frame Us now fome clean Device,
Or playfant Rhime on yonder Mice:
They seem, God fhield Me, MA T. and CHARLES,
Bad as Sir TOPA Z, or 'Squire QuARLES
(MATTHEW did for the nonce reply)
At Emblem, or Device am I:
But could I Chaunt, or Rhyme, pardie,
Clear as Dan CHAUCER, or as Thee;
Ne Verfe from Me (fo God me shrive)
On Moufe, or other Beaft alive.
Certes, I have these many Days
Sent myne Poetic Herd to graze.
Ne Armed Knight ydrad in War
With Lyon fierce will I compare:
Ne Judge unjust, with furred Fox,
Harming in Secret Guife the Flocks:
Ne Prieft unworth of Goddess Coat,
To Swine ydrunk, or filthy Stoat.
Elk Similè farewell for aye,
From Elephant, I trow, to Flea.
Reply'd the friendlike Peer, I weene,
MATTHEW is angred on the Spleen.
Ne fo, quoth MAT. ne fhall be e'er,
With Wit that falleth all fo fair:
Eftfoons, well weet Ye, mine Intent
Boweth to your Commaundement.
If by thefe Creatures Ye have feen,
Pourtrayed CHARLES and MATTHEW been;
Behoveth neet to wreck my Brain,
The reft in Order to explain.
That Cup-board, where the Mice difport,
I liken to St. * STEPHEN'S Court:
Therein is Space enough, I trow,
For elke Comrade to come and goe:
And therein eke may Both be fed
With Shiver of the Wheaten Bread.
And when, as these mine Eyen furvey,
They cease to skip, and fqueak and play;
Return they may to different Cells,
AUDITING One, whilft t'other TELLS.
Dear ROBERT, quoth the SAINT, whofe Mind In Bounteous Deed no Mean can bind;
Now as I hope to grow devout,
I deem this Matter well made out.
Laugh I, whilft thus I serious Pray?
Let that be wrought which MAT. doth say:
Yea, quoth the ERLE; but not To-day.
ULL oft doth MAT. with TOPAZ dine,
Eateth bak'd Meats, drinketh Greek Wine:
But TOPAZ his own Werke rehearseth;
And MAT. mote praise what Tor Az verseth.
Now fure as Priest did e'er fhrive Sinner,
Full hardly earneth MAT. his Dinner.
FAIR SUSAN did her Wif-hede well menteine,
Algates affaulted fore by Letchours tweine:
Now, and I read aright that Auncient Song,
Olde were the Paramours, the Dame full yong.
Had thilke fame Tale in other Guife been tolde;
Had They been Yong (pardie) and She been Olde;
That, by St. KIT, had wrought much forer Tryal;
Full merveillous, I wote, were fwilk Denyal.
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