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A neighbour's madness, or his spouse's,
Away they came, through thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-inn:
('T'was on the niglit of a debate,
When all their lordships bau sate late.)
Behold the place, where if a poet
Sbind in description, he might show it;
Tell how the moon-beam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls ;
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, aud stucco floors :
But let it (in a word) be said,
The Moon was up, and men a-bed, Name a town life, and in a trice
The napkins white, the carpet red : He had a story of two mice.
The guests withdrawn had left the treat, Once on a time (so runs the fable)
And down the mice sate, "tête à tête." A country mouse, right hospitable,
Our courtier walks from disb to dish, Receiv'd a town mouse at his board,
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish; Just as a farmer might a lord.
Tells all their names, lays down the law. A frugal mouse, upon the whole,
“ Que ça cst bon! Ah goûtez ça ! Yet lov'd his friend, and had a soul,
“ That jelly's rich, this malmsev healing, Knew what was handsome, and would do't, Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in.” On just occasion, “ coûte qui coûte.”
Was ever such a happy swain? He brought himn bacon (nothing lean);
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again. Pudding, that might bave pleas'd a dean; “ I'm quite asham'd-'tis mighty rude Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
To eat so much—but all's so good. But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
I have a thousand thanks to give Yet, to his guest though no way sparing,
My lord alone knows how to live.”' He eat himself the rind and paring.
No sooner said, but from the hall Our courtier scarce could touch a bit,
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all : But show'd his breeding and his wit;
“ A rat, a rat! clap to the door"He did his best to seein to eat,
The cat comes honncing on the floor. And cry'd, “ I vow you're mighty neat.
() for the heart of Homer's mice, But Lord, my friend, this savage scene !
Or godis to save them in a tricc! For God's sake, come, and live with men : (It was by Providence they think, Consider, mice, like rnen, must die,
For your damn'd stucco has no chink.) Both small and great, both you and I:
“ An't please your honour," quoth the peasant, Then spend your life in joy and sport;
This same dessert is not so pleasant :
A crust of bread, and liberty!"
BOOK IV. ODE I.
Ah spare me, Venus ! let me, let me rest !
Agrestem pepulere, domo levis exsilit: inde Quidve ad amicitias, usus rectumne, trahat nos:' Ambo propositum peragunt iter, urbis aventes Et quæ sit natura boni, summumque quid ejus. Mænia nocturni subreperi. jamque tenebat Cervius hæc inter vicinus garrit aniles
Nox meiljum cæli spatium, cuin ponit uterque Ex re fabellas. si quis nam laudat Arelli
In locuplete domo restigia : rubro ubi cocco Solicitas ignarus opes; sic incipit : Olim
Tincta suros lectos candoret vestis eburnos ; Rusticus urbanum morem mus paupere fertur Multuque de magna superessent fercula cerna, Accepisse cavo, veterem vetus hospes amicum; Nur procul extructis inerant hesterra canistris. Asper, et attentus qua:sitis; ut tamen aretum Ergo ubi purruren porrectum in veste locavit Solveret hospitiis animuin, quid multa?
Agresten ; veluti surcinctus cnrsitat hospes, Sepositi ciceris, nec longæ invidit avenæ :
Continuatque dapes: rce non verniliter ipsis Ariduni et ore ferens acinun, semesaque lardi Finncitur ofliiis pralambens omne quod affert. Frusta dedit, cupiens raria fastidia cæna
Mlle cubans gau:let mutata sorte, bonisque Vincere tangentis male singula dente superbo : Rebus atit lartum conrivam: cum subito ingens Cum pater ipse domus palea porrectus in horna Valvarum strepitus lectis excussit utrumque. Esset ador loliumqne, Jap.is meliora relinquens. Currere per totum paridi conclave; magisque Tandern urbanus ad hunc; quid te jurat, inquit, Exanimes trepilare, simul domus alta molossis Prærupti nemoris patientem vivere dorso? Camice, | Personuit canibus. tum rusticus, llaud mihi vita Vin' tu homines urbemque feris præponere sylvis Est opus hac, ait, et valens : me sylva, carusque Carpe viam (mihi crede) comes: terrestria quando Tutus ab insidiis tenui solabitur crvo. Mortales animas vivunt sortita, neque ulla est, Aut magno aut parvo, leti fuga, quo, bone, circa, Dum licet, in rebus jucundis vire beatus : INTERMISSA. Venus, diu Vive mcmor quam sis ævi brevis. Hæc ubi dicta
Rursus bella moves i parce precor, precor.
I am not now, alas! the map
Thee, dress'd in Fancy's airy heam,
Absent I follow through th' extended dreams Ah sound no more thy soft alarıns,
Now, now I cease, I clasp thy charms,
And now you burst (ah cruel!) from my arms ! Mother too fierce of dear desires !
And swiftly shoot along the Mall,
Th re spread round Murray all your blooining And now on rolling waters snatch'd away.
Cur facunda parum dccoro
Inter verba cadit lingua silentio ?
Jam captum teneo. jam volucrem sequor
Campi, te per aquas, dure, volubiles.
(Thy Grecian forin) and Chloe lend the face; PAR: OF THE NINTH ODE OF THE FOURTH His house, embosom'd in the grove,
Where Thames reflects the visionary scene : Lest you should think that verse shall die,
Which sounds the silver Thames along,
Above the reach of vulgar song ;
Though daring Milton sits sublime,
In Spenser native Mises play ;
Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,
Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay“
Sages and chiefs long since had birth
Ere Cæsar was, or Newton nam'd;
Then rais'd new empires o'er the Earth,
Aud those, new licavcus and systems fram'd, But why? ah tell me, ah too dear!
Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! Steals down iny cheek th' involuntary tear ? They had no poet, and they died : Why words so Nowing, thoughty so free,
iu valu they schem'd, in vain they bled ! Stop, or turn nonseuse, at one glauce of thee? They had no puet, and are dead. Non sum qualis eram bona
Sub regno Cynaræ. desine,dulcium
ON RECEIVING FROM TH2 RIGHT NON, LADY
A STANDISHI AND TWO PENS,
Yes, I beh id ti' Athenian queen
Discend in all her suber charms;
and take" (sic said, and sinil'd serene) Late signa feret militiæ tuæ.
“ Take at this hand celestial artis. Et, quandoque potentior Largis muneribus riscuit æmuli,
Ve forte credas interitura, qur
Louge sonanten natus ad Autidum
Son unle vulgatas per artes
Verba loquor socianda chordis;
Non, si priori's Mironies tinet
Sedes Humerus. l'indarira latent
Coque, el lleai ininces
Stesichorique graves Camenæs
Nee si quid olin lusit Anacreon,
Dudevit irtas: spirat adhuc amor,
livell'que comunissi caloro
Foliq idibus puella.
lises tortes ante venena
Multi; sed omnes illacrvaatides
Lrgeniur innuiique longa
lucci, Cariat quid Fule sacro:
When interest calls off all her sneaking train,
* Secure the radiant weapons wield;
This golden lance shall guard desert, And if a vice dares keep the field,
This steel shall stab it to the heart." Aw'd, on my bended knees I fell,
Recejv'd the weapons of the sky; And dinp'd them in the sable well,
The fount of fame or infamy. • What well? what weapon ?” (Flavia cries)
“A standish, steel and golden pen!
I gave it you to write again.
You'll bring a house (I mean of peers) Red, blue, and green, nay white and black, J
and all about your ears. “ You'd write as smooth again on glass,
And run, on ivory, so glib, As not to stick at fool or ass,
Nor stop at flattery or fib. “ Athenian queen! and sober charms!
I tell you, fool, there's nothing in't : Tis Venus, Venus gives these arms;
In Dryden's Virgil see the print. " Come, if you'll be a quiet soul,
That dares tell neither truth nor lies, I'll list you in the harmless roll
Of those that sing of these poor eyes."
JAMES CRAGGS, ES2. SECRETARY OF STATE IN THE YEAR 1720. A Soul as full of worth, as void of pride, Which not
ing seeks to shos or needs to hide; Which nor to guilt, nor fear, its caution owes, And boasts a warmth that from no passion flows : A face untaught to feign ; a judging eye, That darts severe upon a rising lie, And strikes a blush through frontless flattery : All this thou wert; and being this before, Know, kings and fortune cannot make thee more. Then scorn to gain a friend by servile ways, Nor wish to lose a foe these virtues raise ; But candid, free, sincere, as you began, Proceed--a minister, but still a man. Be not (exalted to whate'er degree) Asham'd of any friend, not ev'n of me: The patriot's plain, but untrod, path pursue ; If not, 'tis I must be asham'd of you.
ROBERT EARL OF OXFORD AND FARL
MORTIMER. SENT TO THE EARL OP OXFORD WITH DR. PARNELL'S
POEMS PUBLISHED BY OIR AI'THOR, AFTER THE SAID EARL'S IMPRISONMENT IN THE TOWER, AVD
RETREAT INTO THE COUNTRY, IN THE YEAR 1721. Sucu were the notes thy once-lov'd poet sung, Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld, and lost! admir'd, and mourn'd ! With softest manners, gentlest arts adorn'd! Blest in each science, blest in every strain ! Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear-in vain ! For him, thou oft hast bid the world attend, Fond to forget the statesman in the friend; For Swift and him, despis'd the farce of state, The sober follies of the wise and great; Dextrous, the craving, fawning crowd to quit, And pleas'd to 'scape from flattery to wit.
Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear,
And sure, if anght below the seats divine
In vain to deserts thy retreat is made;
MR. JERVAS, WITH MR. DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION OF FRESNOY'S ART
OF PAINTING. This Epistle, and the two following, were written
some years before the rest, and originally printed
in 1717. This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse This, from no venal or ungrateful Muse. Whether thy hand strike out some free design, Where life awakes, and dawns at eyery line ; Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mass, And from the canvass call the minic face: Read these instructive leaves, in which conspire Fresnoy's close art, and Dryden's pative tire : And reading wish, like theirs, our fate and fame, So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our name ; Like them to shine through long succeeding age, So just thy skill, so regular my rage.
Smit with the love of sister-arts we caine, And met congenial, mingling Aame with fame; Like friendly colours found them both unite, And each from each contract new strength and light, How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the day, While summer-suns roll unperceiv'd away! How oft our slowly growing works in part, While images reflect from art to art ! How oft review; each fineling like a friend Something to blame, and something to comiend! Wbat flattering scenes our wandering fancy
wrought, Rome's pumpous glories rising to our thought!
Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,
His heart, his mistress and his friend did share ; Fir'd with ideas of fair Italy.
His time, the Muse, the witty and the fair.
Cheerful he play'd the trifle, life, away;
As siniling infants sport themselves to rest. While Fancy brings the vanish'd piles to view, Ev'n rival wits did Voiture's death deplore, And builds imaginary Rome anew.
And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before ; Here thy well-studied marbles fix our eye ;
The truest hearts for Voiture heav'd with sighs, A falling fresco here demands a sigh :
Voiture was wept by all the brightest eyes: Each heavenly piece unwearied se compare,
The Smiles and Loves had died in Voiture's death, Match Raphael's grace with thy lord Guillo's air, But that for ever in his lines they breathe. Carracci's strength, Correggio's softer line,
Let the strict life of graver mortal be Paulo's free stroke, and Titian's warmth divine. A long, exact, and serious comedy ;
How finish'd with illustrious toil appears In every scene some moral let it teach, This small, well-polish'd gem, the work of years ! And, if it can, at once both please and preach. Yet still how faint bị precept is express'd
Let mine, an innocent gay farce appear, The living image in the painter's breast !
And more diverting still than regular, Thence endless streams of fair ideas fiow,
Have humour, wit, a native ease and grace, Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow; Though not too strictly bound to time and place : Thence Beauty, waking all her forms, supplies
Critics in wit, or life, are hard to please ; Au angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's eyes.
few write to those, and none can live to these Muse! at that name thy sacred sorrows shed, Too much your sex are by their forms confin'd, Those tears eternal that embalm the dead; Severe to all, but most to womankind; Call round her tomb cach object of desire,
Custom, grown blind with age, must be your guide; Each purer frame inform'd with purer tire :
Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride ; Bid her be all that cheers or softens life,
By nature yielding, stubborn but for fame; The tender sister, daughter, friend, and wife: Made slaves by honour, and made fools by shame. Bid her be all that makes mankind adore;
Marriage may all those petty tyrants chase, Then view this marble, and be rain ro more! But sets np one, a greater, in their place. Yet still her charms in breathing paint engage;
Well might you wish for change by those accurst, Her modest cheek shall warm a future age.
But the last tyrant ever proves the worst. Beauty, frail flower that every season fears,
Still in constraint your suffering sex remains, Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years.
Or bound in forthal, or in real chains : Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts surprise, Whole years neglected, for some months ador'd, And other beauties envy Worsley's (yes;
The fawning servant turns a haughty lord. Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow, Ah, quit not the free innocence of life, And soft Belinda's blush for ever çlow.
For the dull glory of a virtuous wife ; Oh, lasting as those colours may they shine,
Nor let false shows, nor empty titles please : Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line ; Aim not at joy, but rest content with ease. New graces yearly like thy works display,
The gods, to curse Pamela with her prayers, Soft without weakness, without glaring gay ;
Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares, led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains ; The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And finish'd more through happiness than pains ! And, to complete her bliss, a fool for mate. The kindred arts shall in their praise conspire,
She glares in balls, front boxes, and the ring, One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. A vain, unquiet, glittering, wretched thing! Ytt should the Graces all thy figures place,
Pride, pomp, and state, but reach herontward part; And breathe an air divine on erery face;
She sighs, and is no dutchess at her heart. Yet svould the Muses bid my numbers roll
But, madam, if the Fates withstand, and you Strong as their charms, and gentle as their soul; Are destin'd Hymen's willing victim too; With Zeuxis' Helen thy Brilgewater vie,
Trust not too much your now resistless charms, And these be sung till Granville's Myra die : Those, age or sickness, soon or late disarms: Alas! how little from the grave we claim !
Good-humour only teaches charms to last,
Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past;
This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong,
The willing heart, and only holds it long.
Thus Voiture's early care still shone the same, WITH THE WORKS OF VOITURE.
And Monthausier was only chang'd in name; In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces shine, By ibis, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm, And all the writer lives in every line:
Their wit still sparkling, and their ilames still warm. His easy art may happy nature seem,
Now crown'd with myrtle, on th' Elysian coast, Trifies themselves are clegant in him,
Amid those lovers, joys his gentle ghost : Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate,
Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines you view, Who without Mattery pleas'd the fair and great ; And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you. Still with esteem no less convers'd than read; With wit well-natyr'd, and with books well-bred :
! Mademoiselle Paulets,
The brightest eyes in France inspir'd his Muse;
The basset table spread, the tallier come;
Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room? ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN' AFTER THE CORONATION, Rise, pensive nymph ; the tallier waits for you. 1715.
I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair,
[fair. From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
And those feign'd sighs which cheat the listening Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever : Thus from the world fair Zephalinda few, Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
Is this the cause of your romantic strains ? Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent,
A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains. She sigb’d, not that they stay'd, but that she
As you by Love, so I by Fortune cross'd; went,
One, one bad deal, three septlevas have lost. She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks, Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking
Is that the grief, which you compare with mine? rooks:
With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign:
Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone,
À lover lost, is but a common care ;
And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Thę knave of clubs thrice lost : Oh! who could Hum half a tune, tell stories to the 'squire ;
guess Up to her godly garret after seven,
This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress?
See Betty Lovet! very à propos,
By cards, ill-usage, or by lovers lost.
Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay,
In some fair evening, on your elbow laid, You dream of triumphs in the rural shade ; In pensive thought recall the fancy'd socne,
Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, See coronations rise on every green ;
With fifty guineas (a great pen'worth) bought. Before you pass th’imaginary sights
See, on the tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive; Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter'd knights, and both the struggling figures seem alive. While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes ; Upon the bottom shines the queen's bright face : Then give one flirt, and all the vision fies.
A myrtle foilage round the thimble-case; Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, Jove, Jove himself does on the scissars shine ; And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! The metal, and the workmanship, divine !
So when your slave, at some dcar ijle time, Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, This snuff-box, once the pledge of Sharper's And while he seems to study, thinks of you :
love, Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,
When rival beauties for the present strove ;
At Corticelli's he the raffle won;
A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This snuff-box, on the hinge see brilliants shine! Look sour, and hum a tune, as you may now.
This snuff-box will I stake; the prize is mire.