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The first came cap-a-pee from France,
Her conquering destiny fulfilling,
Whom meaner beauties eye askance,
And vainly ape her art of killing.

The other Amazon kind heav'n

Had arm'd with spirit, wit, and satire: But Cobham had the polish giv'n, And tipp'd her arrows with good-natur

To celebrate her eyes, her air

Coarse panegyrics would but teaze her. Melissa is her Nom de Guerre.

Alas, who would not wish to please her

[3] The reader is already apprized who these Ladies wer descriptions are prettily contrasted; and nothing can be mo turned than the compliment to Lady Cobham in the eighth s

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Fame, in the shape of Mr. P—t, [|

(By this time all the parish kno Had told that thereabouts there lu

A wicked Imp they call a Poet:

Who prowl'd the country far and

Bewitch'd the children of the P

Cows,

and lam'd the

Dried the up And suck'd the eggs, and kill'd

My Lady heard their joint petition Swore by her coronet and ermir She'd issue out her high commissio

To rid the manor of such verm

[4] It has been said, that this Gentleman, quaintance of Mr. Gray's in the country, was the liberty here taken with his name; yet, sure

reason.

The trembling family they daunt,

They flirt, they sing, they laugh, they t Rummage his Mother, pinch his Aunt, And up stairs in a whirlwind rattle.

Each hole and cupboard they explore, Each creek and cranny of his chamber. Run hurry-skurry round the floor,

And o'er the bed and tester clamber;

Into the drawers and china pry,
Papers and books, a huge imbroglio!
Under a tea-cup he might lie,

Or creased, like dogs-ears, in a folio.

On the first marching of the troops,
The Muses, hopeless of his pardon,
Convey'd him underneath their hoops
To a small closet in the garden.

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and china pry,
S, a huge imbroglio!
might lie,
dogs-ears, in a folio.

g of the troops,
ess of his pardon,
neath their hoops
n the garden.

Short was his joy. He little knew

The power of Magic was no fal Out of the window, whisk, they fl

But left a spell upon the table.

The words too eager to unriddle,

The Poet felt a strange disorder Transparent bird-lime form'd the And chains invisible the border

So cunning was the Apparatus,

The powerful pot-hooks did so That, will he, nill he, to the Grea He went, as if the Devil drove

Yet on his way (no sign of grace,

For folks in fear are apt to pra

L

Own'd, that his quiver and his laurel 'Gainst four such eyes were no protectio

The Court was sate, the Culprit there,
Forth from their gloomy mansions creepi
The Lady Janes and Joans repair,
And from the gallery stand peeping:

Such as in silence of the night

Come (sweep) along some winding entry (Styack (n) has often seen the sight) Or at the chapel-door stand centry:

In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd,
Sour visages, enough to scare ye,
High dames of honour once, that garnish'd
The drawing-room of fierce Queen Mary

(n) The Housekeeper.

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