The beadle must obey the fates' decree, As powerful deftiny prevail'd with thee.

This heathen logic feems to bear too hard On me, and many a harmless modern bard: The critics hence may think themfelves decreed To jerk the wits, and rail at all they read; Foes to the tribe from which they trace their clan, As monkies draw their pedigree from man; To which (though by the breed our kind's difgrac'd)

We grant fuperior elegance of taste :

But in their own defence the wits obferve

That, by impulse from heaven, they write and ftarve;

Their patron-planet, with refiftless power,
Irradiates every poet's natal hour;
Engendering in his head a folar heat,
For which the college has no fure receipt,

Elfe from their garrets would they foon withdraw,
And leave the rats to revel in the straw.

Nothing fo much intoxicates the brain As flattery's smooth infinuating bane: She on th' unguarded ear employs her art, While vain felf-love unlocks the yielding heart; And reason oft fubmits when both invade, Without affaulted, and within betray'd. When flattery's magic mifts fuffuse the fight, The don is active, and the boor polite; Her mirror fhows perfection through the whole, And ne'er reflects a wrinkle or a mole; Each character in gay confusion lies, And all alike are virtuous, brave, and wife : Nor fail her fulfome arts to footh our pride, Though praise to venom turns if wrong apply'd. Me thus the whifpers while I write to you: "Draw forth a banner'd host in fair review! "Then every muse invoke thy voice to raise, "Arms and the man to fing in lofty lays: "Whofe active bloom heroic deeds employ, "Such as the fon of Thetis § fung at Troy; "When his high-founding lyre his valour rais'd, "To emulate the demi-gods he prais'd. "Like him the Briton, warm at honour's call, "At fam'd Blaragnia quell'd the bleeding Gaul; "By France the genius of the fight confeft, "For which our patron faint adorns his breast.". Is this my friend, who fits in full content, Jovial, and joking with his men of Kent, And never any scene of flaughter faw, But those who fell by physic or the law? Why is he for exploits in war renown'd, Deck'd with a ftar, with bloody laurels crown'd? O often prov'd, and ever found fincere! Too honeft is thy heart, thy fenfe too clear, On these encomiums-to vouchsafe a fmile, Which only can belong to great Argyll.

But moft among the brethren of the bays, 'The dear enchantress all her charms difplays, In the fly commerce of alternate praife. If, for his father's fins condemn'd to write, Some young half-feather'd poet takes a flight, And to my touchstone brings a puny ode, Which Swift, and Pope, and Prior, would explode

fliad is,

6

Though every stanza glitters thick with stars, And goddeffes defcend in ivory cars: Is it for me to prove in every part The piece irregular by laws of art? His genius looks but aukward, yet his fate May raise him to be premier bard of state; I therefore bribe his fuffrage to my fame, Revere his judgment, and applaud his flame; Then cry, in feeming transport, while I fpeak, 'Tis well for Pindar that he dealt in Greek! He, conscious of defert, accepts the praise, And courteous, with increase the debt repays: Boileau's a mushroom if compar'd to me, And, Horace, I difpute the palm with thee! Both ravish'd, fing Te Phabum for fuccefs; Rife wift, ye laurels! boy befpeak the prefsThus on imaginary praise we feed ; Each writes till all refufe to print or read: From the records of fame condemn'd to pafs To Brifquct's calendar, a rubrick afs.

Few, wondrous few are eagle ey'd to find
A plain disease, or blemish in the mind:
Few can, though wisdom should their health ensure,
Difpaffionate and cool attend a cure,

In youth difus'd t' obey the needful rein,
Well pleas'd a favage liberty to gain,
We fate the kind desire of every sense,
And lul! our age in thoughtless indolence:
Yet all are Solons in their own conceit,
Though, to fupply the vacancy of wit,
Folly and pride, impatient of control,

The fifter-twins of floth, poffefs the foul.
By Kneller were the gay Pumilio drawn,
Like great Alcides, with a back of brawn,

ふ

I fcarcely think his picture would have power
To make him fight the champions of the tower;
Though lions there are tolerably tame,
And civil as the court from which they came.
But yet, without experience, fenfe, or arts,
Pumilio boafts fufficiency of parts;
Imagines he alone is amply fit

To guide the ftate, or give the stamp to wit:
Pride paints the mind with an heroic air,
Nor finds he a defect of vigour there.

When Philomel of old effay'd to fing,
And in his rofy progrefs hail'd the spring,
Th' aerial fongflers listening to the lays,
By filent ecftaly confeft her praife.

At length, to rival her enchanting note,
The peacock trains the difcord of his throat,
In hope his hideous fhrieks would grateful prove;
But the nice audience hoot him through the grove
Confcious of wanted worth, and just disdain,
Lowering his creft, he creeps to Juno's fane:
To his protectrefs there reveals the cafe;
And for a fweeter voice devoutly prays.

Then thus reply'd the radiant goddefs, known By her fair rolling eyes and rattling tone:

My favourite bird! of all the feather'd kind, Each fpecies had peculiar gifts affign'd: The towering eagles to the realms of light By their strong pounces claim a regal right;

The fwan, contented with an humbler fate,
Low on the fishy river rows in state:
Gay farry plumes thy length of train bedeck,
And the green emerald twinkles on thy neck;
But the poor nightingale in mean attire,
Is made chief warbler of the woodland choir.
Thefe various bounties were difpos'd above,
And ratify'd th' unchanging will of Jove:
Difcern thy talent, and his laws adore;
Be what thou wert defign'd, nor aim at more.

TO THE QUEEN,

ON HER MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY.

FROM this aufpicious day three kingdoms date
The fairest favours of indulgent fate :
From this the months in radiant circles run,
As ftars receive their luftre from the fun.

Το you the fceptres of all Europe bend,
The victor those revere, and these the friend;
Your filken reins the willing rations crave,
For 'tis your lov'd prerogative to save.
Mild amidst triumphs, victory bestows
On you renown, and freedom on your foes;
Obfervant of your will, the goddess brings
Palms in her hand, and healing in her wings.

But, as the brightest beams and gentleft showers
Werc once referv'd for Eden's opening flowers;
So, though remoter realms your influence share,
Britannia boafts to be your darling care.
By your great wisdom and refiftlefs might,
Abroad we conquer, and at home unite :
Nature had join'd the lands; but you alone
Make their affe&tions and their councils one;
You fpeak-the jarring principles remove,
And, clofe combin'd, the fifter-nations prove
Rivals alone in loyalty and love.

Whar power would now forbid the warriorqueen

To wave the red-crofs banners o'cr the Seine? Others for titles urge the foldier's toil, Or meanly feck the foe, to feize the spoil: But you for right your pious arms employ, And conquer to reftore, and not deflroy; Vouchfahing audience to your fuppliant foes, You long to give the labouring world repofe; Concurring juice waits from you the word, leas'd, when you fix the fcales, to fheath the fix the fcales, to fheath the fword.

From this propitious omen we prefage Unnumber'd bleffings to the coming age; Etablish'd faith, the daughter of the fizies, Shall fee new temples by your bounty rife: Commerce beneath the fouthern ftars fhall thrive, Inteftine feud, expire, and arts revive; Safe in their fhades the mufes fhall remain, And fing the milder glories of your reign.

So, whilft offended heaven exerts its power, Swift fly the lightings, loud the thunders roar, But, when our incente reconciles the ikies, Again the radiant beams begin to rife; Soft Zephyrs gently wait the clouds away, And flagrant Bowers perfume the dawning day;

IMITATED FROM PROPERTIUS, BOOK 111. ELEGY 111,

To green retreats, that shade the muses' stream,
My fancy lately bore me in a dream;

Fir'd with ambitious zeal, my harp I ftrung,
And Blenheim's field, and fam'd Ramillia fung:
Faft by that spring, where Spenser fat of old,
And great exploits in lofty numbers told.
Phoebus in his Caftalian grotto laid,
O'er which a laurel cast her filken fhade,
Spy'd me, and haftily when first he spy'd,
Thus, leaning on his golden lyre, he cry'd:
What strange ambition has misplac'd thee there;
Forbear to fing of arms, alas forbear!
Form'd in a gentle mould, henceforth employ
Thy pen to paint the fofter fcenes of joy.
Thy works may thus the myrtle garland wear,
Prefer'd to grace the toilets of the fair:

When their lov'd youths at night too long delay,
In reading thee they'll pass the hours away :
And, when they'd make their melting wifhes
known,

Repeat thy paffion to reveal their own.
Then hafte, the fafer fhallows to regain,
Nor dare the ftormy dangers of the main.

Ceafing with this reproof, the friendly god
A moffy path, but lightly beaten, show'd:
A cave there was, which Nature's hand alone
Had arch'd with greens of various kinds o'ergrown;
With timbrels all the vaulted roofs were grac'd,
And earthen gods on either fide were plac'd.
Silenus, and the mufes' virgin-train,
Stood here, with Pan the poet of the plain :
Elsewhere the doves of Cytherea's team
Were feen to fip the fweet Caftalian stream.

Nine lovely nymphs a several task pursu'd,
For ivy one was fent to search the wood;
This to foft numbers join'd haṛmonious airs,
And fragrant rofy wreaths a third prepares.
Me thus the bright Calliope address'd

(Her name the brightness of her form confess'd) a
The filver fwans of Venus wait to bear
Thee fafe in pomp along the liquid air.
Pleas'd with thy peaceful province, ftrait recal
Thy rafh defign to fing the wounded Gaul.
Harth founds the trumpet in the mufes' grove,
But sweet the lute, the lute is fit for love.
No more rehearse the Danube's purple stream,
Let love for ever be the tender theme.
And in thy verse reveal the moving art,
To melt an haughty nymph's relentless heart.
The goddess ceafing, to confirm me more,
My face with hallow'd drops fhe fprinkled o'er,
Fetch'd from the fountain, by whose flowery fide
Soft Waller fung of Sachariffa's pride.

To the Right Honourable The Lady MARGARET CAVENDISH HARLEY,

WITH THE POEMS OF MR. WALLER.

LET others boast the nine Aonian maids,
Infpiring ftreams, and fweet refounding fhades
Where Phoebus heard the rival bards rehearse,
And bade the laurels learn the lofty verse.
In vain! Nor Phoebus, nor the boasted Nine,
Inflame the raptur'd foul with rays divine:
None but the fair infuse the facred fire,
And love with vocal art informs the lyre.

When Waller, kindling with cœleftial rage,
View'd the bright Harley of that wondering age,
His pleasing pain he taught the lute to breathe;
The graces fung, and wove his myrtle wreath.
In youth, of patrimonial wealth poffeft,
The praise of science faintly warm'd his breast:
But, fir'd to fame by Sidney's rofy fmile,
Swift o'er the laureat realms he urg'd his toil.
His mufe, by Nature form'd to please the fair,
Or fing of heroes with majestic air,
To melting strains attun'd her voice, and ftrove
To waken all the tender powers of love i

More fweetly foft her awful beauty fhone,
Than Juno grac'd with Cytherea's zone.

As angels love, congenial fouls unite
Their radiance, and refine each other's light;
The florid and fublime, the grave and gay,
From Waller's beams imbibe a purer ray:
Illumin'd thence in equal lays to bound
Their copious fenfe, and harmonize the found;
With varied notes the curious ear to please,
And turn a nervous thought with artful ease.
Maker, and model, of melodious verfe!
Accept these votive honours at thy herfe.
While I with filial awe attempt thy praise,
Infufe thy genius, and my fancy raife!
So, warbling o'er his urn, the woodland choirs
To Orpheus pay the fong his fhade infpires.

In Waller's fame, O fairest Harley view
What verdant palms fhall owe their birth to you.
To you what deathlefs charms are thence decreed,
In Sachariffa's fate vouchfafe to read.
Secure beneath the wing of withering time,
Her beauties flourish in ambrofial prime;
Still kindling rapture, fee! fhe moves in ftate;
Gods, nymphs, and heroes, on her triumph wait.
Nor think the lover's praife of love's delight
In pureft minds may ftain the virgin-white;
How bright, and chafte, the poet and his theme;
So Cynthia fines on Arethufa's Itream.'
A fainted virtue to the spheres may fing
Those strains, that ravish'd here the martyr king.
Plenteous of native wit, in letter'd eafe
Politely form'd, to profit and to please,
To fame whate'er was due he gave to fame;
And, what he could not praife, forgot to name :
Thus Eden's rofe without a thorn difplay'd
Her bloom, and in a fragrant blush decay'd.

Such foul-attracting airs were fung of old, When blissful years in golden circles roll'd; Pure from deceit, devoid of fear and frife, While love was all the penfive care of life, The fwains in green retreats, with flowrets. crown'd,

Taught the young groves their paffion to refound: Fancy pursu'd the paths where beauty led, To please the living, or deplore the dead. While to their warbled woe the rocks reply'd, The rills remurmur'd, and the zephyrs figh'd; From death redeem'd by verfe, the vanifh'd fair Breath'd in a flower, or fparkled in a ftar. Bright as the stars, and fragrant as the flowers Where fpring refides in foft Elyfian bowers; While thefe the bowers adorn, and they the fphere, Will Sachariffa's charms in fong appear. Yet, in the prefent age, her radiant name Muft take a dimmer interval of fame; When you to full meridian luftre rife, With Morton's fhape, and Gloriana's eyes; With Carlifle's wit, her gefture, and her mien ; And, like feraphic Rich, with zeal ferene : In sweet assemblage all their graces join'd, To language, mode, and manners more refin'd! That angel-frame, with chaste attraction gay, Mild as the dove ey'd morn awakes the May, Of nobleft youths will reign the public care, Their joy, their wifh, their wonder, and despair.

Far-beaming thence what bright ideas flow! The fifter-arts with fudden rapture glow: Her Titian tints the painter-nymph resumes ; The canvas warm with rofeate beauty blooms: Infpir'd with life by fculpture's happy toil, The marble breathes, and foftens with your fmile; Proud to receive the form, by fate defign'd The fairest model of the fairer kind. But hear, O hear the mufe's heavenly voice! The waving woods and echoing vales rejoice: Attend, ye gales! to Margaretta's praise, And all ye listening loves record the lays! So Philomela charms th' Idalian grove, When Venus, in the glowing orb of love, O'er ocean, earth, and air, extends her reign; The first, the brightest of the starry train, What favourite youth affign the fates to rife, In bridal pomp to lead the blooming prize?` Whether his father's garter'd fhield fuftains Trophies, atchiev'd on Gallia's viny plains; Or fmiling peace a mingled wreath displays, The patriot's olive, and the poet's bays: Adorn, ye fates! the favourite youth affign'd, With each ennobling grace of form, and mind: In merit make him great, as great in blood; Great without pride, and amiably good; His breaft the guardian ark of heaven-born law, To ftrike a faithlefs age with conscious awe. In choice of friends by manly reafon fway'd; Nor fear'd, but honour'd, and with love obey'd In courts, and camps, in council, and retreat, Wife, brave, and ftudious to fupport the ftate. With candour firm; without ambition bold; No deed difcolour'd with the guilt of gold. That Heaven nay judge the choiceft bleffings due, And give the various good compris'd in you.

PROLOGUE

TO

SOUTHERNE'S SPARTAN DAME,

[rear.

WHEN realms are ravag'd with invasive foes,
Each bofom with heroic ardour glows;
Old chiefs, reflecting on their former deeds,
Difdain to ruft with batter'd invalids;
But active in the foremost ranks appear,
And leave young fmock-faç'd beaux to guard the
So, to repel the Vandals of the stage,
Our veteran bard refumes his tragic rage:
He throws the gauntlet Otway us'd to wield,
And calls for Englishmen to judge the field:
Thus arm'd, to rescue nature from difgrace,
Meffieurs! lay down your minstrels and grimace:
The brawniest youths of Troy the combat fear'd,
When old Etellus in the lifts appear'd.

1

The mufes blush'd, to see their friends exalting
Those elegant delights of jig and vaulting :
So charm'd you were, you ceas'd awhile to dote
On nonsense, gargled in an eunuch's throat :
All pleas'd to hear the chattering monsters speak,
As old wives wonder at the parson's Greek.
Such light ragoûts and mushrooms may be good,
To whet your appetites for wholesome food:
But the bold Briton ne'er in earnest dines
Without fubftantial haunches and furloins.
In wit, as well as war, they give us vigour;
Creffy was loft by kickshaws and foup-meagre.
Instead of light deserts and luscious froth,
Our poet treats to-night with Spartan broth;
To which, as well as all his former feafts,
The ladies are the chief-invited guests.
Crown'd with a kind of Glastonbury bays,
That bloom amid the winter of his days,
He comes, ambitious in his green decline
To confecrate his wreath at beauty's fhrine.
His Oroonoko never fail'd t'engage
The radiant circles of the former age:
Each bofom heav'd, all eyes were feen to flow,
And fympathize with Isabella's woe:
But fate referv'd, to crown his elder fame,
The brightest audience for the Spartan Dame.

ON THE FIRST FIT OF THE GOUT.
WELCOME, thou friendly earnest of fourscore,
Promife of wealth, that haft alone the power
T'attend the rich, unenvy'd by the poor.
Thou that doft Efculapius deride,
And o'er his gally-pots in triumph ride;
Thou that art us'd t'attend the royal throne,
And under-prop the head that bears the crown;
Thou that doft oft in privy council wait,
And guard from drowfy fleep the eyes of ftate;
Thou that upon the bench art mounted high,
And warn't the judges how they tread awry;
Thou that doft oft from pamper'd prelate's toe
Emphatically urge the pains below;
Thou that art ever half the city's grace,
And add'it to folemn noddles folemn pace;
Thou that art us'd to fit on ladies knee,.
To feed on jellies, and to drink cold tea;
Thou that art ne'er from velvet flipper free;
Whence comes this unfought honour unto me?
Whence does this mighty condefcenfion flow?
To visit my poor tabernacle, O-!

As Jove vouchfaf'd on Ida's top, 'tis said,
At poor Philemon's cot to take a bed;
Pleas'd with the poor but hofpitable feast,
Jove bid him afk, and granted his request;
So do thou grant (for thou'rt of race divine,
Begot on Venus by the god of wine)
My humble fuit!-And either give me store
To entertain thee, or ne'er fee me more.

HORACE, BOOK I. ODE IX, IMITATED. FROM THE OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE VERSES *,

SINCE the hills all around us do penance in fnow, And winter's cold blafts have benumb'd us below; * Dedicated by Featon, to Lionel Earl of Dorfet and Middlefex,

Since the rivers chain'd up flow with the fame speed [read; As criminals move tow'rds the pfalm they can't Throw whole oaks at a time, nay, whole groves on the fire,

To keep out the cold, and new vigour inspire ; Ne'er wafte the dull time in impertinent thinking, But urge and pursue the grand business of drinking. Come, pierce your old hogfheads, ne'er stint us in fherry,

For this is the season to drink and be merry; That, reviv'd by good liquor and billets together, We may brave the loud ftorms, and defy the cold weather, [you love us, We'll have no more of bufinefs; but, friend, as Leave it all to the care of the good folks above us. Whilft your appetite's ftrong, and good-humour remains,

And active brisk blood does enliven your veins, Improve the sweet minutes in scenes of delight, Let your friend have the day, and your mistress the night:

In the dark you may try whether Phyllis is kind, The night for intriguing was ever design'd; Though the runs from your arms, and retires to a

fhade,

Some friendly kind sign will betray the coy maid: All trembling you'll find then the poor bashful finner,

Such a trespass is venial in any beginner;
But remember this counfel, when once you have
[better!
Get a ring from the fair-one, or fomething that's

met her,

CATULLUS, EPIG. V. TRANSLATED.

LET's live, my dear, like lovers too,
Nor heed what old men fay or do.
The falling fun will furely rife,
And dart new glories through the skies,
But when we fall, alas! our light
Will set in everlasting night.
Come then, let mirth and amorous play
Be all the business of the day.
Give me this kifs-and this-and this!
A hundred thousand more.-Let's kifs
Till we ourselves cannot exprefs,
Nor any lurking fpy confefs,

The boundless measure of our happiness.

}