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In these seven brethren they contended last,

With art increas'd, their utmost skill they tried, And, both well pleas'd they had themselves furpafs'd, The Goddess triumph'd, and the painter dy'd. That both their skill to this vaft height did raise, Be ours the wonder, and be yours the praise : For here, as in fome glass, is well defcry'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,

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With all that world of charms, which foon will move
Reverence in men, and in the fair-ones love;
His very grace his fair descent affures,
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'ndifh great and charming look;
From you that air, from you the charms they took.
In their each limb your image is expreft,

But on their brow firm courage ftands confeft;

Eldest daughter of the Countefs.

There,

There, their great father, by a strong increase,

Adds ftrength to beauty, and completes the piece :
Thus ftill your beauty, in your fons, we view,
Wieffen seven times one great perfection drew :
Whoever fat, the picture ftill is you.

So when the parent-fun, with genial beams,
Has animated many goodly gems,

He fees 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 faw the Deity in every fon :

And to what God foe'er men altars rais'd,
Honouring the offspring, they the mother prais'd.

In fhort-liv'd charms let others place their joys,
Which fickness blafts, and certain age destroys:
Your ftronger beauty Time can ne'er deface,
'Tis ftill renew'd, and stamp'd in all your race.

Ah! Wieffen, had thy art been fo refin'd,
As with their beauty to have drawn their mind,
Through circling years thy labours would furvive,
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 fpite, or fate, could do;
Till thine confus'd with Nature's pieces lie,
And Cavendifh's name and Cecil's honour die.

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A FABLE,

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A

F A B LE,

FROM

PHEDRU S.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE MEDLEY, 1710.

THE Fox an actor's vizard found,

And peer'd, and felt, and turn'd it round;
Then threw it in contempt away,

And thus old Phædrus heard him say:
"What noble part canft thou sustain,
"Thou fpècious head without a brain ?"

то THE

RIGHT HONOURABLE MR. HARLEY.

HORACE, I E P. IX. IMITATED.

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

DEAR 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 Minifter of State:
One word from me, without all doubt, he says,
Would fix his fortune in fome little place.

Richard Shelton, Efq.

Thus

Thus better than myself, it seems, he knows,
How far my interest with my patron goes ;
And, anfwering 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 forefee 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 fhun this cenfure, I all fhame lay by,
And make my reason with his will comply;
Hoping, for my excufe, 'twill be confest,
That of two evils I have chose the leaft.
So, Sir, with this epiftolary scroll,
Receive the partner of my inmost 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.

то

то

M R. HA R LEY,

IN

WOUNDED BY GUISCARD, 1711.

"Ab ipfo

HOR.

Ducit opes animumque ferro."

I.

one great now, fuperior 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 ftabs his judge, to prove his innocence.
III.

The guilty ftroke and torture of the steel

Infix'd, our dauntlefs Briton fcarce perceives: The wounds his country from his death must feel, The Patriot views; for thofe alone he grieves.

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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 brafs and marble carves thy deathless name.

V. Faith

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