Attend, and justly I'll recite His treasons to you all, The heads set in their native light An oath did frame and make, Th' illegal oath to take. He laid a tax full hard and sore, The sutlers too he did ordain For licences should pay, By which provisions were so scant, He so much lov'd his private gain, They might or die, or might complain, That, above and against all right, No sooner said, but it was done, The bourreau did his worst; In this concise despotic way Full two good hundred pounds a year, Besides, he gave five hundred pound Who was his bail; one friend he found, "Journal, Sabbati, 16 die Decemb.is, 1693. But for this horrid murder vile None did him prosecute; His old friend help'd him o'er the stile: With France, fair England's mortal foe, Had any other don't, I trow, That he did likewise traitorously, Vast quantities of stores did he The forfeited estates also, Both real and personal, Mean while the soldiers sigh'd and sobb'd, His excellence had each man fobb'd, Nero, without the least disguise, The Protestants, whom they did rob Were fore'd with patience, like good Job, For he did basely them refuse The Romans still he well did nse, How this Viceroy did reign; The best of queens he hath revil'd, Forgetful of the favours kind She had on him bestow'd, But listen, Nero, lend thine ears, "Oh! sacred be her memory, Tor ever dear her naine! There never was, nor e'er can be, "Blest be my sons, and eke all those Who on her praises dwell! She conquer'd Britain's fiercest foes, "All princes, kings, and potentates, "In Anna they did all confide, For Anna they could trust: Her royal faith they all had try'd, • For Anna still was just. "Truth, Mercy, Justice, did surround Her awful judgment-seat, In her the Graces all were found, In Anna all complete. "She held the sword and balance right, And sought her people's good; In clemency she did delight, Her reign not stain'd with blood. "Her gracious goodness, picty, "Consummate wisdom, meekness all, "Ten thousand glorious deeds to crown, To Heaven she wing'd her flight: And annual be your mirth." Illustrious George now fills the throne, Who can his wondrous deeds make known, Thee, favourite Nero, he has deign'd To raise to high degree! Well thon thy honours hast sustain'd, But pass-These honours on thee laid, Oh! are there not, grim mortal, tell, Oh! is there not a Heaven, a Hell? Can nought change thy obdurate mind? The prophet on thee well refin'd, How thou art lost to sense and shame, Three countries witness be: Dame Justice waits thee, well I ween, Her sword is brandish'd high: Nought can thee from her vengeance screen, Nor canst thou from her fly. Heavy her ire will fall on thee, To her I leave thee, gloomy peer!" APOLOGY TO A LADY, WHO TOLD ME, I COULD NOT LOVE HER HEARTILY, BECAUSE I HAD LOVED OTHERS. PROBABLY BY MR. PRIOR. IN IMITATION OF MR. WALLER. FAIR Sylvia, cease to blame my youth, For having lov'd before; So men, ere they have learnt the truth, My youth ('tis true) has often rang'd, For, Sylvia, when I saw those eyes, If I from this great rule do err, AGAINST MODESTY IN LOVE For many unsuccessful years At Cynthia's feet I lay, No prostrate wretch, before the shrine E'er thought his goddess more divine, Or paid more awful love. Still the disdainful dame look'd down 5 By the manner in which this and the two following little pieces are printed in the Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany Poems, there is little doubt but they are the productions of the excellent poet to whom I have ascribed them. N. ONE night unhappy Celadon, Beneath a friendly myrtle's shade, With folded arms and eyes cast down, Gently repos'd his love-sick head: Whilst Thyrsis, sporting on the neighbouring plain, "Ask not the cause why sickly flowers They strive to hide them in their beds, Grieving with Celadon they downward grow, And feel with him a sympathy of woe. "Chloris will go; the cruel fair, Regardless of her dying swain, Leaves him to languish, to despair, And murmur out in sighs his pain. The fugitive to fair Augusta flies, To make new slaves, and gain new victories." So restless monarchs, though possess'd Of all that we call state or power, Fancy themselves but meanly blest, Vainly ambitions still of more. Round the wide world impatiently they roam, WHEN THE CAT IS AWAY, A FABLE, INSCRIBED TO DR. SWIFT. In domibus Mures avido dente omnia captant: A LADY Once (so stories say) By rats and nice infested, With gins and traps long sought to slay The hints of this and the following fable appear to have originated from the fable of the Old Lady and her Cats, printed in the General Postscript, Nov. 7, 1709. They have been both ascribed to Dr. Swift. N. Great havoc 'mongst her cheese was made, At length Grimalkin to her aid And begg'd him to relieve her. Envy'd Grimalkin's glory: Her favourite lap-dog now was grown And rav'd like any Tory. She cannot bear, she swears she won't, But firmly is resolv'd upon 't, And vows, that, whatso'er comes on 't, She begs, she storms, she fawns, she frets, At length this spiteful waiting-maid And fairly turn'd a-grazing. Now lap dog is again restor'd Into his lady's favour; Shall from all vermin save her. Nab much exults at this success, Her lady fondly does caress, But vain such hopes; the mice that fled And leaves cheese unregarded. Nor rats nor mice the lap-dog fear, And whatsoe'er the vermin spare, Mean while, to cover their deceit, At once, and slander Grim; Nab says, the cat comes, out of spite, So lays it all on him. Nor corn secure in garret high, Nor cheesecake safe in closet; "I am a cat of honour."-" Stay!" Quoth she, "no longer parley; "Of this we'll grant you stand acquit, "So flagrant is thy insolence, So vile thy breach of trust is, That longer with thee to dispense, Were want of power, or want of senseHere, Towzer!-do him justice." SONGS, BET TO MUSIC BY THE MOST EMINENT MASTERS, THE WIDOW AND HER CAT: A WIDOW kept a favourite cat, At first a gentle creature; But, when he was grown sleek and fat, The fox and he were friends of old, He scratch'd the maid, he stole the cream, Nor Chanticleer upon the beam, Nor chick, nor duckling, 'scapes, when Grim Invites the fox to dinner. The dame full wisely did decree, For fear he should dispatch more, Thus speech'd it like a Lechmere': "Your golden pippins, and your pies, I. SET BY MR. ABEL. READING ends in melancholy; Wine breeds vices and diseases; Wealth is but care, and love but folly; Only friendship truly pleases. My wealth, my books, my flask, my Molly: Farewell all, if friendship ceases. 11. SET BY MR. PURCELL. WHITHER would my passion run? Yet would not gain her, to undo her. Ye tyrants of the human breast, Love and Reason! cease your war, And order Death to give me rest; So each will equal triumph share. III. SET BY MR. DE FESCH. STREPHONETTA, why d'ye fly me, Since your charms I so much prizes IV. SET BY MR. SMITH, COME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain; Torment not thus your pretty heart: Think, Flavia, we may meet again, As well as, that we now must part. You sigh and weep; the gods neglect That precious dew your eyes let fall: Our joy and grief with like respect They mind; and that is, not at all We pray, in hopes they will be kind, Is, that no prayer can alter Fate. Then clear your brow, and look more gay, And could such constant lovers sever; I dare not trust, lest, now they're in, They should divide us two for ever. Then, Flavia, come, and let us grieve, Remembering though upon what score; This our last parting look believe, Believe we must embrace no more. Yet should our Sun shine out at last, And Fortune, without more deceit, Throw but one reconciling cast, To make two wandering lovers meet; Each other, to be thus deceiv'd! V. SET BY MR. DE FESCH. LET perjur'd fair Amynta know, But, ob she scorns to hear, or see, VI. SET BY MR. SMITH. PHILLIS, since we have both been kind, Then let us free each other's soul, And laugh at the dull constant fool, Who would love's liberty control, And teach us how to whine by rule. Let us no impositions set, Or clogs upon each other's heart; We both have spent our stock of love, VII. SET BY MR. DE FESCH.. PHILLIS, this pious talk give o'er, In vain you fancy to deceive, VIII. SET BY MR. SMITH. STILL, Dorinda, I adore, Staying, I my vows shall fail; You, my love, too nicely coy, To my vows I have been true, And in silence hid my anguish, But I cannot promise too What my love may make me do, While with her for whom I languish. For in thee strange magic lies, But, Dorinda, you're severe, IX. SET BY MR. DE FESCI Is it, O Love, thy want of eyes, Or by the Fates decreed, Or for each other bleed? If thou would'st make two youthful hearts One amorous shaft obey; "Twould save thee the expense of darts, And more extend thy sway. |