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26

And other truths are useless now.
What matters, if unblest in love,
How long or short my life will prove!
To gratify what low desire,
Should I with needless haste inquire,
How great, how wealthy, I shall be ?
Oh! what is wealth or power to me!
If I am happy, or undone,
It must proceed from you alone.

1

A GREEK EPIGRAM IMITATED.
WHEN hungry wolves had trespassed on the fold,
And the robbed shepherd his sad story told,
• Call in Alcides,' said a crafty priest;
•Give him one half, and he'll secure the rest.'
No! said the shepherd, if the Fates decree,
By ravaging my flock, to ruin me,
To their commands I willingly resign,
Power is their character, and patience mine;
Though, troth! to me there seems but little odds,
Who prove the greatest robbers, wolves or gods! 10

THE WANDERING PILGRIM,

HUMBLY ADDRESSED TO SIR THOMAS FRANKLAND,
BART. POST-MASTER, AND PAYMASTER-

GENERAL TO QUEEN ANNE.

1 WILL PIGGOT must to Coxwould ?

go, To live, alas! in want, 1 This merry petition was written to obtain the porter's place for Will Piggot.-Twelve miles north, beyond the city of York.

Unless Sir Thomas say, No, no;

The allowance is too scant.

2 The gracious knight full well does weet,

Ten farthings ne'er will do
To keep a man each day in meat,

Some bread to meat is due.

3 A Rechabite poor Will must live,

And drink of Adam's ale,
Pure element no life can give,

Or mortal soul regale.

4 Spare diet, and spring-water clear,

Physicians hold are good;
Who diets thus, need never fear

A fever in the blood.

5 But pass—the Æsculapian crew,

Who eat and quaff the best,
They seldom miss to bake and brew,

Or lin to break their fast.

6 Could Yorkshire-tyke but do the same,

Then he like them might thrive;
But Fortune, Fortune, cruel dame!

To starve thou dost him drive.

7 In Will's old Master's plenteous days,

His memory e'er be blessed!
What need of speaking in his praise ?

His goodness stands confessed.

8 At his famed gate stood Charity, In lovely sweet array;

1. Lin ;' forget

Ceres and Hospitality

Dwelt there both night and day.

9 But, to conclude, and be concise,

Truth must Will's voucher be,
Truth never yet went in disguise,

For naked still is she.

10 There is but one, but one alone,

Can set the pilgrim free,
And make him cease to pine and moan;

O Frankland! it is thee.

11 Oh! save him from a dreary way,

To Coxwould he must hie,
Bereft of thee, he wends astray,

At Coxwould he must die.

12 Oh! let him in thy hall but stand,

And wear a porter's gown,
Duteous to what thou mayst command,

Thus William's wishes crown.

VENUS'S ADVICE TO THE MUSES. Tuts to the Muses spoke the Cyprian dame; • Adorn my altars, and revere my name. My son shall else assume his potent darts, Twang goes the bow, my girls; have at your hearts!' The Muses answered, Venus, we deride The vagrant's malice, and his mother's pride; Send him to nymphs who sleep on Ida's shade, To the loose dance, and wanton masquerade;

9

Our thoughts are settled, and intent our look,
On the instructive verse, and moral book;
On female idleness his

power relies;
But, when he finds us studying hard, he flies.'

CUPID TURNED PLOUGHMAN.

FROM MOSCHUS.

His lamp, his bow, and quiver, laid aside,
A rustic wallet o'er his shoulders tied;
Sly Cupid, always on new mischief bent,
To the rich field and furrowed tillage went;
Like any ploughman toiled the little god,
His tune he whistled, and his wheat he sowed;
Then sat and laughed, and to the skies above
Raising his eye, he thus insulted Jove:
Lay by your hail, your hurtful storms restrain,
And, as I bid you, let it shine or rain,
Else you again beneath my yoke shall bow,
Feel the sharp goad, and draw the servile plough;
What once Europa was, Nannette is now,

10

PONTIUS AND PONTIA.

1 Pontius (who loves, you know, a joke,

Much better than he loves his life) Chanced t’other morning to provoke

The patience of a well bred wife.

2 Talking of you, said he, my dear,

Two of the greatest wits in town,

One asked, if that high furze of hair

Was, bona fide, all your own.

3 Her own! most certain, tother said;

For Nan, who knows the thing, will tell ye, The hair was bought, the money paid,

And the receipt was signed Ducailly.

4 Pontia (that civil prudent she,

Who values wit much less than sense, And never darts a repartee,

But purely in her own defence)

5 Replied, these friends of yours, my dear,

Are given extremely much to satire! But pr’ythee, husband, let one hear

Sometimes less wit, and more good-nature.

6 Now I have one unlucky thought,

That would have spoiled your friend's conceit; Some hair I have, I'm sure, unbought:

Pray bring your brother wits to see 't.

CUPID TURNED STROLLER.

FROM ANACREON.

At dead of night, when stars appear,
And strong Boötes turns the bear;
When mortals sleep their cares away,
Fatigued with labours of the day,
Cupid was knocking at my gate;
Who's there! says I, who knocks so late,

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