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The brightest eyes of France infpir'd his Muse;
The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse;

And dead, as living, 'tis our Author's pride

Still to charm those who charm the world befide.


furd readers and critics, loved to relate, that one of his relations, to whom he had presented his works, said to him, "Pray, Coufin, how came you to infert any other person's writings among your own? I find in your works two letters, one from Balfac, and the other from Voiture." Defcartes, who, as well as Leibnitz, was an elegant scholar, wrote a judicious cenfure of Balfac, in admirable Latin. Balfac was, however, fuperior to Voiture. But he was affectedly turgid, pompous, and bloated, on all fubjects and on all occafions alike. Yet was he the first that gave form and harmony to the French profe, which was ftill improved by the provincial letters of Pafcal.


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fome fond Virgin, whom her mother's care Drags from the Town to wholesome Country air, Just when she learns to roll a melting eye, And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh; From the dear man unwilling she must sever, Yet takes one kifs before fhe parts for ever: Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew, Saw others happy, and with fighs withdrew ; Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent, She figh'd not that they flay'd, but that she went. 10 She went, to plain-work, and to purling brooks, Old-fafhion'd halls, dull Aunts, and croaking rooks: She went from Op'ra, Park, Affembly, Play, To morning-walks, and pray'rs three hours a day; To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea, To mufe, and fpill her folitary tea,




Coronation] Of King George the firft, 1715.


VER. 1. As fome fond Virgin,] There is fo much likeness (to ufe Johnson's words on another poem) in the initial comparison, that there is no illuftration. As one lady lamented the going out of London, fo did another. WARTON.

Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,

Count the flow clock, and dine exact at noon:
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,

Hum half a tune, tell ftories to the fquire;
Up to her godly garret after fev'n,


There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
Some Squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
Whofe game is Whisk, whose treat a toast in sack;
Who vifits with a Gun, prefents you birds, 25
Then gives a fmacking bufs, and cries,-No Words!
Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable ;
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whofe laughs are hearty, tho' his jefts are coarse,
And loves you best of all things-but his horse.
In fome fair ev'ning, on your elbow laid,
You dream of Triumphs in the rural shade
In pensive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
See, Coronations rife on ev'ry green;

Before you pass th' imaginary fights



Of Lords, and Earls, and Dukes, and garter'd Knights,



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VER. 23. Some Squire, c.] Dr. Warton obferves, that no "country Squire" has ever been painted with such true colours and natural features as Addifon's Tony Foxhunter, except Western, in Tom Jones. But of the old English gentleman, who refides in the country, a groffer caracature, though its humour is unrivalled, than that of Squire Weftern, was never drawn; and this by Pope is equally falfe and overcharged.-An Allworthy is oftener to be found than a Squire Western. The character of the English Gentleman (the person of hereditary property refiding in the country) is, in general, among that of the most humane, the moft liberal, and the most valuable of the community.

While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes;
Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.
Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls,

And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!


So when your Slave, at fome dear idle time, (Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme) Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, And while he seems to study, thinks of you; Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,


Or fees the blush of soft Parthenia rife,
Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rush upon my fight;
Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow,

Look four, and hum a Tune, as you may now. 50

POPE fays, this Epiftle is written to the fame Lady as the preceding; that is, Martha Blount. From the manuscript letters, however, which I have had an opportunity of confulting, it ap pears this must have been addressed to the elder fister, who was more handsome, and more fenfible than Martha. She was the first object of Pope's attachment; but not meeting with so much encouragement, he transferred his attentions to her fister.

The affumed name of Terefa was Zephalinda, under which she correfponded, for many years, with a Mr. More, under the feigned name of Alexis. Martha was called Parthenia.







HE Baffet-Table spread, the Tallier come; Why stays SMILINDA in the Dreffing-Room? Rife, pensive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you;


Ah, Madam, fince my SHARPER is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpeu.

I faw him ftand behind OMBRELIA'S Chair,
And whisper with that foft, deluding air,
And those feign'd fighs which cheat the list'ning Fair.




* Mr. Dallaway has given good reasons for fuppofing that the Town Eclogues were written entirely by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Moft probably Lady M. has the greatest claim to them; but as fome corrected copies were found among Gay's and Pope's papers, and have been received into Pope's works, I have ventured to retain them; but, as far as their literary merit is concerned, it very little matters to whom they exclusively belong.

VER. 1. The Baffet-Table Spread,] There were fix Town Eclogues; two written by Mr. Pope, and the reft by Lady Wortley Montagu, whofe fine genius and abilities are well known; and from whose hand I am glad to present the reader with the following Sonnet, preserved by Algarotti, in the feventh volume of his Works:

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