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Great in her charms! as when on shrieves and may’rs
Here to her chosen all her works she shews ;
240 The goddess then, o'er his anointed head, With mystic words, the sacred opium shed ; And lo! her bird a monster of a fowl ! Something betwixt a heideggre and owl, Perch'd on his crown. All hail! and hail again, 245 My son ! the promis’d land expects thy reign. A A 2
Know, Settle cloy'd with custard, and with praise,
END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
ARGUMENT TO BOOK THE SECOND.
THE King being proclaimed, the solemnity is graced with public
games ani's rts of various kinds ; not instituted by the Hero, as by Æneas in Virgil, but for greater honour by the Goddess in person (in like manner as the games Pythia, Isthmia, &c. were anciently said to be by the Gods, and as Thetis berself appearing, according to Homer, Odyss. xxiv., proposed the prizes in honour of her son Achilles). Hither flock the Poets and Critics, attended, as is but just, with their Patrons and Booksellers. The Goddess is first pleased, for her disport, to propose games to the Booksellers, and setteth up the phantom of a Poet, . which they contend to overtake. The Races described, with their divers accidents : next, the game for a Poetess. Then follow the exercises for the Poets, of tickling, vociferating, diving: Tbs first holds forth the arts and practices of Dedicators, the second of Disputants, and fustian Poets, the third of profound, dark, and dirty Autbors. Lastly, for the Critics, the Goddess proposes I with great propriety) an exercise, not of their parts, but their patience, in bearing the works of two voluminous Authors, one in verse and the other in prose, deliberately read, without sleeping : The various effects of which, with the several degrees and man. ners of their operation, are bere set forth; till the whole number, not of Critics only, but of spectators, actors, and all present, fall fast asleep; wbich naturally and necessarily ends the games.
HIGH on a gorgeous seat, that far outshone
Henley's gilt tub, or Fleckno's Irish throne, Or that, where on her Curls the public pours, All-bounteous, fragrant grains, and golden show'rs : Great Tibbald nods : The proud Parnassian sneer, s The conscious simper, and the jealous leer, Mix on his look. All eyes direct their rays On him, and crowds grow foolish as they gaze. Not with more glee, by hands pontific crown'd, With scarlet hats, wide-waving, circled round, 10 Rome in her capitol saw Querno sit, Thron'd on sev’n hills, the antichrist of wit.
To grace this honourd day, the Queen proclaims By herald hawkers, high heroic games. She summons all her sons : An endless band 15 Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the land. A motley mixture ! in long wigs, in bags, In silks, in crapes, in garters, and in rags, From drawing-rooms, from colleges, from garrets, On horse, on foot, in hacks, and gilded chariots: 20