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They walk'd, and eat, good folks: what then?

Why then they walk'd and eat again :
They foundly flept the night away;

They did just nothing all the day :
And, having bury'd children four,
Would not take pains to try for more.
Nor fifter either had nor brother;
They feem'd juft tally'd for each other.
Their moral and œconomy

Moft perfectly they made agree:
Each virtue kept its proper bound,
Nor trefpafs'd on the other's ground.
Nor fame nor cenfure they regarded;
They neither punish'd nor rewarded.
He car'd not what the footman did;
Her maids she neither prais❜d nor chid:
So every fervant took his course ;
And, bad at first, they all grew worfe.
Slothful diforder fill'd his stable,
And fluttish plenty deck'd her table.

Their beer was strong; their wine was port;
Their meal was large; their grace was short.
They gave the poor the remnant meat,
Juft when it grew not fit to eat.

They paid the church and parish rate,
And took, but read not, the receipt ;
For which they claim their Sunday's due,
Of flumbering in an upper pew.

No man's defects fought they to know;
So never made themfelves a foe.

No

No man's good deeds did they commend;
So never rais'd themselves a friend.

Nor cherish'd they relations poor;
That might decrease their present store:
Nor barn nor houfe did they repair;
That might oblige their future heir.
They neither added nor confounded;
They neither wanted nor abounded.
Each Christmas they accompts did clear,
And wound their bottom round the year.
Nor tear nor fmile did they employ
At news of public grief or joy.

When bells were rung, and bonfires made,
If ask'd, they ne'er deny'd their aid:
Their jug was to the ringers carried,
Whoever either died or married.
Their billet at the fire was found,
Whoever was depos'd or crown'd.

Nor good, nor bad, nor fools, nor wife;
They would not learn, nor could advife :
Without love, hatred, joy, or fear,

They led-a kind of—as it were:

Nor wish'd, nor car'd, nor laugh'd, nor cried :
And fo they liv'd, and so they died

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WRITTEN IN MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS,

GIVEN то THE DUKE OF SHREWSBURY

FRANCE, AFTER THE PEACE, 1713.

IN

DICTATE, O mighty judge, what thou haft feen

Of cities and of courts, of books and men;

And deign to let thy fervant hold the pen.

Through 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 toil.

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

While Talbot tells the world, where Montaigne err'd.

AN

AN

EPISTLE,

DESIRING THE QUEEN'S PICTURE:

WRITTEN AT PARIS, 1714; BUT LEFT UNFINISHED, BY

THE SUDDEN NEWS OF HER MAJESTY'S DEATH.

HE train of equipage and pomp of state,

The fhining fide-board, and the burnish'd plate,
Let other minifters, great Anne, require;
And partial fall thy gift to their defire.
To the fair portrait of my Sovereign Dame,
To that alone, eternal be my claim.

My bright defender, and my dread delight,
If ever I found favour in thy fight;
If all the pains that for thy Britain's fake
My paft has took, or future life may take,
Be grateful to my Queen; permit my prayer,
And with this gift reward my total care.

Will thy indulgent hand, fair Saint, allow
The boon? and will thy car accept the vow?
That, in defpite of age, of impious flame,
And eating Time, thy picture, like thy fame,
Entire may laft; that, as their eyes furvey
The femblant fhade, men yet unborn may fay,

H 4

Thu

Thus great, thus gracious, look'd Britannia's Queen;
Her brow thus fmooth, her look was thus ferene;
When to a low, but to a loyal hand

The mighty Empress gave her high command,
That he to hoftile camps and kings should haste,
To speak her vengeance, as their danger, paft;
To fay, fhe wills detefted wars to cease;
She checks her conqueft, for her subjects cafe,
And bids the world attend her terms of peace.

Thee, gracious Anne, thee present I adore,

}

Thee, Queen of Peace-If Time and Fate have power Higher to raise the glories of thy reign,

In words fublimer, and a nobler ftrain,

May future bards the mighty theme rehearse :
Here, Stator Jove, and Phœbus king of verse,
The votive tablet I fufpend * ***

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF DEVONSHIRE;

ON A PIECE OF WIESSE N'S,

WHEREON WERE ALL HER GRANDSONS PAINTED.

WI IESSEN and Nature held a long contest,

If She created, or He painted beft ;

With pleasing thought the wondrous combat grew,
She ftill form'd fairer; He ftill liker drew.

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