Jove frown'd, and "Use (he cried) those eyes
So skilful, and those hands so taper;
Do something exquisite and wise-"
She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper.

This vexing him who gave her birth,
Thought by all heaven a burning shame ;
What does she next, but bids, on earth,
Her Burlington do just the same.

Pallas, you give yourself strange airs;
But sure you'll find it hard to spoil
The sense and taste of one that bears
The name of Saville and of Boyle.

Alas! one bad example shown,

How quickly all the sex pursue! See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown Between John Overton and you!

ON DRAWINGS OF THE STATUES OF APOLLO, VENUS, AND HERCULES,

MADE FOR POPE BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.

WHAT god, what genius did the pencil move, When Kneller painted these?

Twas friendship, warm as Phoebus, kind as Love, And strong as Hercules.

rses fom his native coast

Y and long by tempests toss'd, KT: IS. Nr. 24, fiscus d, alone, is besed even his Queen unknown: isras age, and toils, and cares, is Freed ice, and white his hairs, pas tri mask his bread, yee is former bounty fed,

I

Bogat of al is own fomestic crew;

Te nou by Lone is ghtful master knew!
CHEL, MAG Legected, on the clay,
Leu i servant, now ostler 1, he lay;
Touch i desentment of grateful man,
AM cingu bead his ancient lord again.
Sim vien le sexe, nd crawl'd to meet,

se que adàvid and kiss'd his feet, Sex i with hume vy: den falling by his side, Oval is running kri, kok'd up, and died!

Goppiss of woods, tremendous in the chase,
To mountain wolves and all the savage race,
Wide o'er th' aerial vant extend thy sway,
And o'er the infernal regions void of day.

On thy third reign look down; disclose our fate,
In what new station shall we fix our seat?
When shall we next thy hallow'd altars raise,
And choirs of virgins celebrate thy praise?

AN INSCRIPTION UPON A PUNCHBOWL,

IN THE SOUTH SEA YEAR, FOR A CLUB,

CHASED WITH JUPITER PLACING CALLISTO IN THE

SKIES, AND EUROPA WITH THE BULL.1

COME, fill the South Sea goblet full;
The gods shall of our stock take care;
Europa pleas'd accepts the Bull,

And Jove with joy puts off the Bear.

LINES ON A GROTTO, AT CRUX-EASTON,

HANTS.

HERE shunning idleness at once and praise,
This radiant pile nine rural sisters raise;

Now first printed, from the handwriting of Dr. Birch on a fly leaf of the first vol. of Warburton's Pope's Works, formerly belonging to Cracherode, in the British Museum. "This Epigram of Mr. Pope was communicated by the Revd. Dr. Warburton to

Tho. Birch."

2 The Misses Lisle.

The glittering emblem of each spotless dame,
Clear as her soul, and shining as her frame;
Beauty which nature only can impart,

And such a polish as disgraces art;

But fate dispos'd them in this humble sort,
And hid in deserts what would charm a court.

ON BENTLEY'S MILTON.

DID Milton's prose, O Charles, thy death defend?
A furious foe unconscious proves a friend.
On Milton's verse did Bentley comment? Know,
A weak officious friend becomes a foe.

While he but sought his author's fame to further,
The murderous critic has aveng'd thy murther.

LINES.

ALL hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade, Scene of my youthful loves, and happier hours! Where the kind Muses met me as I stray'd,

And gently press'd my hand, and said, Be ours. Take all thou e'er shalt have, a constant Muse:

At court thou mayst be lik'd, but nothing gain; Stocks thou mayst buy and sell, but always lose;

And love the brightest eyes, but love in vain.

TO ERINNA.1

THOUGH sprightly Sappho force our love and praise,
A softer wonder my pleas'd soul surveys,
The mild Erinna, blushing in her bays.

So, while the sun's broad beam yet strikes the sight,
All mild appears the moon's more sober light;
Serene, in virgin majesty she shines,

And, unobserv'd, the glaring sun declines.

ADRIANI MORIENTIS AD ANIMAM,

TRANSLATED.

Ан, fleeting spirit! wandering fire,
That long hast warm'd my tender breast,
Must thou no more this frame inspire;
No more a pleasing cheerful guest?
Whither, ah whither art thou flying,
To what dark undiscover'd shore?
Thou seem'st all trembling, shivering, dying,
And wit and humour are no more!

'See Memoir prefixed to these volumes, p. 1xx.