In these seven brethren they contended last,

With art increas'd, their utmost skill they tried, And, both well pleas'd they had themselves surpass’d,

The Goddess triumph’d, and the painter dy'd. That both their skill to this vast height did raise, Be ours the wonder, and be yours the praise : For here, as in some glass, is well descry'd Only yourself thus often multiply'd. When Heaven had You and gracious Anna * made, What more exalted beauty could it add ? Having no nobler images in store, It but kept up to these, nor could do more Than copy well what it had fram'd before. If in dear Burghley's generous face we fee Obliging truth and handsome honesty, With all that world of charms, which soon will move Reverence in men, and in the fair-ones love ; His very grace his fair descent assures, He has his mother's beauty, she has yours. If every Cecil's face had every charm, That thought can fancy, or that Heaven can form; Their beauties all become your beauty's due, They are all fair, because they're all like you. If every Ca'ndish great and charming look ; From you that air, from you the charms they took. In their each limb your image is exprest, But on their brow firm courage stands confeit;

* Eldest daughter of the Countess.

There,

There, their great father, by a strong increase,
Adds strength to beauty, and completes the piece :
Thus still your beauty, in your sons, we view,
Wiessen seven times one great perfection drew :
Whoever sat, the picture still is you.

So when the parent-sun, with genial beams,
Has animated many goodly gems,
He sees himself improv'd, while every stone,
With a resembling light, reflects a fun.

So when great Rhea many births had given,
Such as might govern earth, and people heaven ;
Her glory grew diffus’d, and, fuller known,
She saw the Deity in every son:
And to what God foe'er men altars rais'd,
Honouring the offspring, they the mother prais’d.

'In short-liv'd charms let others place their joys,
Which fickness blasts, and certain age destroys :
Your stronger beauty Time can ne'er deface,
"Tis still renew'd, and stamp'd in all your race.

Ah! Wiessen, had thy art been so resin’d,
As with their beauty to have drawn their mind,
Through circling years thy labours would survive,
And living rules to faireft virtue give,
To men unborn and ages yet to live :
"Twould still be wonderful, and still be new,
Against what time, or spite, or fate, could do ;
Till thine confus’d with Nature's pieces lie,
And Cavendish's name and Cecil's honour die.

A FABLE,

AF ABLE,

FROM PHÆ DR U S.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MEDLEY, 1710.

Then threw a Phædrus hihou sustain: **

THE Fox an actor's vizard found, 1 And peerd, and felt, and turn’d it round; Then threw it in contempt away, And thus old Phædrus heard him say: “ What noble part canst thou sustain, “ Thou specious head without a brain ?"

то тн

RIGHT HONOURABLE MR. HARLEY.

HORACE, I E P. IX. IMITATED..

“ Septimius, Claudi, nimirum intelligit unus, “Quanti me facias, &c.”

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 ;
Though I plain Mat, you Minister of State :
One word from me, without all doubt, he says,
Would fix his fortune in fome little place.
* Richard Shelton, Esq.

Thus

Thus better than myself, it seems, he knows,
How far my interest 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 interest have,
Which to my own advantage I would save,
And, with the usual courtier's trick, intend
To serve myself, forgetful of my friend.

To sun this censure, I all shame lay by,
And make my reason with his will comply;
Hoping, for my excuse, 'twill be confest,
That of two evils I have chose the least.
So, Sir, with this epiftolary scroll,
Receive the partner of my inmost soul :
Him you will find in letters and in laws
Not unexpert, firm to his country's cause,
Warm in the glorious interest you pursue,
And, in one word, a good man and a true.

TO

MR. HARLEY,

WOUNDED BY GUIS CARD, 1711.

“ Ab ipso Ducit opes animumque ferro."

HOR.

TN one great now, superior to an age,

The full extremes of Nature's force we find :
How heavenly Virtue can exalt, or Rage
Infernal how degrade the human mind.

II.
While the fierce monk does at his trial ftand,

He chews revenge, abjuring his offence :
Guile in his tongue, and murder in his hand,
He stabs his judge, to prove his innocence.

III.
The guilty stroke and torture of the steel

Infix’d, our dauntless Briton scarce perceives :
The wounds his country from his death must feel,
The Patriot views ; for those alone he grieves.

IV.
The barbarous rage that durst attempt thy life,

Harley, great counsellor, extends thy fame :
And the sharp point of cruel Guiscard's knife,
In brass and marble carves thy deathless name.

V. Faith