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VERSES TO

TOA

YOUNG

LADY.

Attend, ye emblems of your P's mind!
Mark Faith, mark Hope, mark charity, defin'd;
On terms, whence no ideas ye can draw,
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Pin well your faith, and then pronounce it law;

POLLY, from me, though now a love-fick youth, Firft wealth, a crofier next, your hope enflame

Nay, though a poet, hear the voice of truth!
Polly, you're not a beauty, yet you 're pretty ;
So grave, yet gay; fo filly, yet fo witty;
A heart of foftnefs, yet a tongue of fatire; 5
You've cruelty, yet, ev'n with that, good nature:
Now you are free, and now referv'd awhile;
Now a forc'd frown betrays a willing fmile.
Reproach'd for abfence, yet your fight deny'd;
My tongue you filence, yet my filence chide. 1o
How would you praife me, fhould your fex defame!
Yet, fhould they praife, grow jealous, and exclaim.
If I defpair, with some kind look you bless;
But if I hope, at once all hope fupprefs.
You fcorn; yet fhould my paffion change, or fail, 15
Too late you 'd whimper out a fofter tale.
You love; yet from your lover's wish retire;
Doubt, yet difcern; deny, and yet defire.
Such, Polly, are your fex-part truth, part fiction,
Some thought, much whim, and all a contradiction.

THE GENTLEMAN.

ADDRESSED TO

JOHN JOLIFFE, Esq.
DECENT mein, an elegance of dress,

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And next church-power-a power o'er confcience, claim;

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In modes of worship right of choice deny;
Say, to convert, all means are fair;-add, why? 10
"Tis charitable-let your power decree,
That Perfecution then is Charity;
Call reafon error; forms, not things, difplay;
Let moral doctrine to abftrufe give way;
Sink demonftration; myftery preach alone;
Be thus Religion's friend, and thus your own.
But Fofter well this honeft truth extends-
Where Mystery begins, Religion ends.
In him, great modern miracle! we fee
A prieft, from avarice and ambition free;
One, whom no perfecuting spirit fires;
Whofe heart and tongue benevolence inspires:
Learn'd not affuming; eloquent, yet plain;
Meek, though not timorous; confcious, though not
vain;

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Without craft, reverend ; holy, without cant; 25
Zealous for truth, without enthufiaft rant.

His faith, when no credulity is feen,

'Twixt infidel and bigot, marks the mean;
His hope, no mitre militant on earth,

'Tis that bright crown, which heaven reserves for
worth.

A prieft, in charity with all mankind,

A Words, which, at cafe, each winning grace is love to virtue, not to fect confin'd:

exprefs;

A life, where love, by wifdom polifh'd, fhines,
Where wisdom's felf again, by love, refines;
Where we to chance for friendship never trust,

Nor ever dread from fudden whim disgust;
The focial manners, and the heart humane;
A nature ever great, and never vain ;
A wit, that no licentious pertnefs knows;
The fenfe, that unaffuming candour shows;
Reafon, by narrow principles uncheck'd,
Slave to no party, bigot to no fect;
Knowledge of various life, of learning too;
Thence tafte; thence truth, which will from

enfue:

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tafte

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Unwilling cenfure, though a judgment clear;
A smile indulgent, and that smile fincere;
An humble, though an elevated mind;
A pride, its pleasure but to fer ve mankind:
If these esteem and admiration raife;
Give true delight, and gain unflattering praife,
In one with'd view, th' accomplish'd man we fee;
Thefe graces all are thine, and thou art He.

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FROM Codex hear, ye ecclefiaftic men,
This paftoral charge to Webster, Stebbing, Ven;

Truth his delight; from him it flames abroad,
From him, who fears no being, but his God.

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Not mad with mystery, but a found divine;
In him from Chriftian, moral light can fhine; 35

He wins the wife and good, with reafon's lore;
Then ftrikes their paffions with pathetic power;
Where vice erects her head, rebukes the page;
Mix'd with rebuke, perfuafive charms engage; 40
Charms, which th' unthinking must to thought
excite;

Lo! vice lefs vicious! virtue more upright:
Him copy, Codex, that the good and wife,
Who fo abhor thy heart, and head despise,
May fee thee now, though late, redeem thy name,
And glorify what elfe is damn'd to fame.

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Eut fould fome churchman, apeing witsevere,
The poet's fure turn'd Baptift-fay, and fneer;
Shame on that narrow mind fo often known,
Which in one mode of faith, owns worth alone. 50
Sneer on, rail, wrangle! nought this truth repels--
Virtue is virtue, wherefoe'er fhe dwells;

And fure, where learning gives her light to shine,
Her's is all praife-if her's, 'tis Fofter, thine.

Thee boast diffenters; we with pride may own 55
Our Tillotson; and Rome, her Fenelon.*

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THE POET's DEPENDANCE

ON A

STATES MAN.

OME feem to hint, and others proof will bring,
That, from neglect, my numerous hardihip:
fpring.

Seek the great man! they cry-'tis then decreed,
In him, if I court fortune, I fucceed.

A fcene will fhew, all-righteous vifion hafte:
The meek exalted, and the proud debas'd!
Oh, to be there!-to tread that friendly fhore, [60
Where falfehood, pride, and statesmen are no more!

But ere indulg'd-eré fate my breath shall claim, A poet ftill is anxious after fame.

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What future fame would my ambition crave?
This were my wifh-could ought my memory fave,
[Say, when in death my forrows lie repos'd,
That my paft life no venal view difclos'd;
Say, I well knew, while in a state obfcure,
Without the being bafe, the being poor;
Say, I had parts, too moderate to tranfcend:
Yet fenfe to mean, and virtue not t' offend;
My heart fupplying what my head denied,
Say that, by Pope efteem'd I liv'd and died;
Whose writings the best rules to write could give;
Whofe life the nobler fcience how to live.

What friends to fecond? who for me fhould fue,
Have interefts, partial to themselves, in view.
They own my matchless fate compaffion draws;
They all wish well, lament, but drop my caufe.
There are who afk no penfion, want no place,
No title wifh, and would accept no grate.
Can I entreat, they should for me obtain
The leaft, who greatest for themselves disdain ?
A flatefman, knowing this, unkind, will cry,
Thofe love him: let thofe ferve him!-why
fhould I?

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Be pofts difpos'd at will!—I have, for these, No gold to plead, no impudence to teaze. All fecret fervice from my foul I hate; All dark intrigues of pleasure, or of state. I have no power, election-votes to gain; No will to hackney out polemic strain ; To shape, as time thall ferve, my verse, or profe, To flatter thence, nor flur, a courtier's foes; Nor him to daub with praise, if I prevail; Nor fhock'd by him with libels to affail. Where these are not, what claim to me belongs? Though mine the Mufe and virtue, birth and wrongs.

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Where lives the statesman, so in honour clear,
To give where he has nought to hope, nor fear?
No!-there to feek, is but to find freth pain: 35
The promise broke, renew'd, and broke again;
To be, as humour deigns, receiv'd, refus'd;
By turns affronted, and by turns amus'd;
To lofe that time, which worthier thoughts require;
To lose the health, which fhould thofe thoughts
infpire;

To ftarve an hope; or, like camelions, fare
On minifterial faith, which means but air.

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But fill, undrooping, I the crew disdain, Who, or by jobs or libels, wealth obtain. Ne'er let me be, through thofe, from want exempt; In one man's favour, in the world's contempt: Worle in my own through thofe, to pofts who rife,

Themfelves, in fecret, must themselves defpife;
Vile, and more vile, till they, at length, difclaim
Not fenfe alone of glory, but of thame.

What though I hourly fee the fervile herd,
For meanness honour'd, and for guilt prefer'd;
See felfish paffion, public virtue feem;
And public virtue an enthusiast dream;
See favour'd falfehood, innocence belied,
Meeknefs deprefs'd, and power-elated pride;

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AN EPISTLE

TO

DAMON AND DELIA.

HE

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EAR Damon, Delia hear, in candid lays, Truth without anger, without flattery, praife! A bookish mind, with pedantry unfraught, Oft a fedate, yet never gloomy thought: Prompt to rejoice, when others pleasure know, 5 And prompt to feel the pang for others woe; To foften faults, to which a foe is prone, And, in a friend's perfection, praise your own: A will fincere, unknown to selfish views; A heart of love, of gallantry a Muse; A delicate, yet not a jealous mind; A paffion ever fond, yet never blind, Glowing with amorous, yet with guiltless fires, In ever-eager, never grofs defires: A modeft honour, facred to contain From tattling vanity, when fnuiles you gain; Conftant, moft pleas'd when beauty most you please: Damon! your picture's fhewn in tints like these.

Say, Delia! muft I chide you or commend? Say, muft I be your flatterer or your friend?

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To praise no graces in a rival fair, Nor your own foibles in a fister spare; Each lover's billet, bantering, to reveal, And never known one fecret to conceal; Young, fickle, fair, a levity inborn, To treat all fighing flaves with flippant fcorn; An eye, expreflive of a wandering mind: Nor this to read, nor that to think inclin'd; Or when a book, or thought, from whim retards, Intent on fongs or novels, drefs or cards; 30 Choice to select the party of delight,

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To kill time, thought, and fame, in frolic flight;
To flutter here, to flurry there on wing;
To talk, to teaze, to fimper, or to fing;
To prude it, to coquet it-him to trust,
Whofe vain, loofe lite, fhould caution or disguft;
Him to diflike, whofe modest worth should please.-
Say, is your picture shewn in tints like these?
55 Your's!-you deny it-Hear the point then tried,
Let judgment, truth, the Muse, and love decide. 40

What your's!-Nay, fairest trifler, frown not fo:
Is it? the Mufe with doubt-Love anfwers No:
You fmile-Is't not? Again the question try!
Yes, judgment thinks, and truth will Yes, reply.

TO MISS M... H...,

SENT WITH MR. POPE'S WORKS,

EE female vice and female folly here,

SE

Raillied with wit polite, or lafh'd fevere:
Let Pope prefent fuch objects to our view;
Such are, my fair, the full reverse of you.
Rapt when, to Loddon's ftream* from Windfor's
fhades,

He fings the modest charms of sylvan maids ;
Dear Burford's hills in memory's eye appear,
And Luddal's fpring + ftill murmurs in my ear:
But when you ceafe to blefs my longing eyes,
Dumb is the fpring, the joylefs profpect dies:
Come then, my charmer, come! here tranfport

reigns!

10

New health, new youth, infpirits all my veins.
Each hour let intercourfe of hearts employ,
Thou life of lovelinefs! thou foul of joy!
Love wakes the birds-oh, hear each melting lay! 15
Love warms the world-come, charmer,come away!
But hark-immortal Pope refumes the lyre!
Diviner airs, diviner flights, infpire:
Hark where an angel's language tunes the line!
See where the thoughts and looks of angels fhine! 20
Here he pour'd all the mufic of your tongue,
And all your looks and thoughts, unconfcious, fung.

ON THE RECOVERY OF

Eight funs, fucceffive, roll their fire away,
And eight flow nights fee their deep shades decay.
While these revolve, though mute each Muse
appears,

Each speaking eye drops eloquence in tears. [25
On the ninth noon, great Phoebus, listening bends!
On the ninth noon, each voice in prayer afcends!-
Great God of light, of fong, and phyfic's art,
Reftore the languid fair, new foul impart !
Her beauty, wit, and virtue, claim thy care,
And thine own bounty's almost rival'd there.
Each paus'd. The God affents. Would Death

advance?

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Phœbus, unfeen, arrests the threatening lance!
Down from his orb a vivid influence ftreams,
And quickening earth imbibes falubrious beams;
Each balmy plant, encrease of virtue knows, 35.
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And art, infpir'd, with all her patron, glows.
The charmer's opening eye, kind hope, reveals,
Kind hope, her confort's breaft enlivening feels.
Each grace revives, each Muse resumes the lyre,
Each beauty brightens with re-lumin'd fire.
As Health's aufpicious powers gay line difplay,
Death, fullen at the fight, ftalks flow away.

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My lov'd Hill, O thou by heaven defign'd
To charm, to mend, and to adorn mankind!
To thee my hopes, fears, joys, and forrows tend,
Thou brother, father, nearer yet!-thou friend!
If worldly friendships oft cement, divide,
As interefts vary, or as whims prefide;
If leagues of luxury borrow friendship's light,

A LADY OF QUALITY Or leagues fubverfive of all focial right:

FROM THE SMALL-POX.

5

LONG a lov'd fair had blefs'd her confort's fight
With amorous pride, and undisturb'd delight;
Till Death, grown envious with repugnant aim,
Frown'd at their joys, and urg'd a tyrant's claim.
He fummons each difeafe!-the noxious crew,
Writhing, in dire distortions, ftrike his view!
From various plagues, which various natures know,
Forth rufhes beauty's fear'd and fervent foe.
Fierce to the fair, the miffile mischief flies,
The fanguine ftreams in raging ferments rife! 10
It drives, ignipotent, through every vein,
Hangs on the heart, and burns around the brain!
Now a chill damp the charmer's luftre dims!
Sad o'er her eyes the livid languor fwims!
Her eyes, that with a glance could joy infpire, 15
Like fetting stars, fcarce fhoot a glimmering fire.
Here ftands her confort, fore, with anguifh, preft,
Grief in his eye, and terror in his breast.
The Paphian Graces, fmit with anxious care,
In filent forrow weep the waining fair.

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O fay, my Hill, in what propitious sphere,
Gain we the friend, pure, knowing, and sincere? 10

"This where the worthy and the wife retire;
There wealth may learn its use, may love inspire;
There may young worth, the nobleft end obtain,
In want may friends, in friends may knowledge gain;
In knowledge blifs; for wisdom virtue finds, IS
And brightens mortal to immortal minds.
Kind then my wrongs, if love, like yours, fucceed;
you, like virtue, are a friend indeed.

For

Oft when you faw my youth wild error know,
Reproof, foft-hinted, taught the blush to glow. zo
Young and unform'd, you first my genius rais'd,
Juft fmil'd when faulty,and when moderate prais'd.
Me fhun'd, me ruin'd, fuch a mother's rage!
You fung, till pity wept o'er every page.
You call'd my lays and wrongs to early fame, 25
Yet, yet, th' obdurate mother felt no fhame.
Pierc'd as I was! your counsel foften'd care,
To cafe turn'd anguifh, and to hope despair..
The man who never wound afflictive feels,
He never felt the balmy worth that heals.
Welcome the wound, when bleft with fuch relief!

Alluding to the beautiful Episode of Loddona, in For deep is felt the friend, when felt in grief.

Windfor Foreft.

↑ A Spring near Burford.

VOL. V.

From you fhall never, but with life, remove Afpiring genius, condescending love.

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When fome, with cold, fuperior looks, redrefs, 35
Relief feems infult, and confirms diftrefs;
You, when you view the man with wrongs
befieg'd

While warm you act th' obliger, seem th' oblig'd.
All-winning mild to each of lowly state;
To equals free, unfervile to the great;

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AN EPISTLE

ΤΟ

MR. JOHN DYER,

Greatnefs you honour, when by worth acquir'd; Now

Werth is by worth in every rank admir'd.
Greatnefs you fcorn, when titles infult peak;
Proud to vain pride, to honour'd meeknefs meek.
That worthless blifs, which others court, you
fly;

That worthy woe, they fhun, attracts your eye.
But fhall the Muse refound alone your praise;
No-let the public friend exalt her lays!

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O trace that friend with me!—he 's yours!-he's mine!

The world's-beneficent behold him shine!

Is wealth his sphere? If riches, like a tide,
From either India pour their golden pride;
Rich in good works, him others wants employ;
He gives the widow's heart to fing for joy.
To orphans, prifoners, fhall his bounty flow;
The weeping family of want and woe.

Is knowledge his? Benevolently great,

In leisure active, and in care fedate;
What aid, his little wealth perchance denies,
In each hard inftance his advice supplies.
With modest truth he fets the wandering right,
And gives religion pure, primæval light;
In love diffufive, as in light refin'd,
The liberal emblem of his Maker's mind.

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Is power his orb? He then, like power divine,
On all, though with a varied ray, will shine.
Ere power was his, the man he once carefs'd,
Meets the fame faithful smile, and mutual
breast:

But asks his friend fome dignity of state;

AUTHOR OF GRONGAR-HILL.

In Answer to his from the Country.*
OW various birds in melting concert uing,
And hail the beauty of the opening fpring:
Now to thy dreams the nightingale complains,
Till the lark wakes thee with her cheerful strains;
Wakes, in thy verfe and friendship ever kind, 5
Melodious comfort to my jarring mind.

Oh could my fonl through depths of knowledge fee,
Could I read nature and mankind like thee,

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I fhould o'ercome, or bear the fhocks of fate,
And e'en draw envy to the humblest state.
Thou canst raise honour from each ill event,
From fhocks gain vigour, and from want content.
Think not light poetry my life's chief care!
The Mufe's manfion is, at beft, but air;
But, if more folid works my meaning forms,
Th'unfinish'd structures fall by fortune's ftorms.
Oft have I faid we falfely thofe accuse,
Whofe god-like fouls life's middle state refufe.
Self-love, I cry'd, there feeks ignoble rest;
Care fleeps not calm, when millions wake unbleft;
Mean let me fhrink, or spread sweet shade o'er all,
Low as the fhrub, or as the cedar tall!-
'Twas vain! 'twas wild!-I fought the middle state,
And found the good, and found the truly great. [25

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Though verfe can never give my foul her aim; Though action only claims fubftantial fame; Though fate denies what my proud wants require, Yet grant me, heaven, by knowledge to afpire :" Thus to enquiry let me prompt the mind;

Thus clear dimm'd truch, and bid her blefs mankind;

From the pierc'd orphan thus draw fhafts of griet!

His friend, unequal to th' incumbent weight? 70 Arm want with patience, and teach wealth relief!

Afks it a stranger, one whom parts inspire
With all a people's welfare would require?
His choice admits no paufe; his gift will prove
All private, well abforb'd in public love.
He thields his country, when for aid the calls;
Or, should the fall, with her he greatly falls:
But, as proud Rome, with guilty conqueft
crown'd,

Spread flavery, death and defolation round,
Should e'er his country, for dominion's prize,
Against the fons of men a faction rife,
Glory in hers, is in his eye difgrace;

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The friend of truth; the friend of human race.
Thus to no one, no fect, no clime confin'd,
His boundless love embraces all mankind;
And all their virtues in his life are known:
And all their joys and forrows are his own,
Thefe are the lights, where ftands that friend
confeft;

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This, this the fpirit, which informs thy breast. Through fortune's cloud thy genuine worth can shine;

What would't thou not, were wealth and greatnefe thing?

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To ferve lov'd liberty inspire my breath!
Or, if my life be ufelefs, grant me death;
For he, who useless is in life furvey'd,
Burthens that world, his duty bids him aid.
Say, what have honours to allu. the mind,
Which he gains moft, who leaft has ferv'd mankind?
Titles, when worn by fools, I dare despite; 149
Yet they claim homage, when they crown the wife,
When high diftinction marks deferving heirs,
Defert ftill dignifies the mark it wears.
But, who to birth alone would honours owe?
Honours, if true, from feeds of merit grow. [45

1 Thofe trees, with sweetest charms, invite our eyes,
Which, from our own engraftment, fruitful rife.
Still we love beft what we with labour gain,
As the child's dearer for the mother's pain.

The great I would not envy nor deride;
Nor ftoop to fwell a vain Superior's pride;
Nor view an Equal's hope with jealous eyes;
Nor crush the wretch beneath who wailing lies.
My fympathizing breast his grief can teel,
And my eye weep the wound I cannot heal.

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Ne'er among friendships let me fow debate, Nor by another's fall advance my state; Nor mifufe wit against an absent friend: Let me the virtues of a foe defend!

55 How fine your Baftard! why fo foft a ftrain? What fuch a Mother? fatirize again!

In wealth and want true minds preferve their weight;

Meek, though exalted ; though disgrac'd, elate; 60 Generous and grateful, wrong'dor help'd they live; Grateful to serve, and generous to forgive.

This may they learn, who close thy life attend; Which, dear in memory, ftill inftructs thy friend. Though cruel distance bars my groffer eye, 65 My foul, clear-fighted, draws thy virtue nigh; Thro' her deep woe that quickening comfort gleams, And lights up Fortitude with Friendship's beams.

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VICE-PRINCIPAL of St. MARY-HALL, OXFORD, Being prefented by the Hon. Mrs. KNIGHT, to the Living of GODSFIELD in ESSEX.

W prief by mean arts and meaner patrons rife Priefts, whom the learned and the good defpife;

5

This fees fair Knight, in whose transcendent mind,
Are wisdom, purity, and truth enshrin'd.
A modeft merit now fhe plans to lift,
Thy living, Godsfield! falls her instant gift.
Let me (fhe faid) reward alone the wife,
And make the church-revenue Virtue's prize.

She fought the man of honeft, candid breast,
In faith, in words of goodness, full exprest ;
Though young, yet tutoring academic youth
To fcience moral, and religious truth.
She fought where the difinterested friend,
The fcholar, fage, and free companion blend;
The pleafing poet, and the deep divine,

ΤΟ

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She fought, the found, and, Hart! the prize was thine.

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ET Fulvia's wifdom be a flave to will, Her darling paflions, fcandal and quadrille; On friends and foes her tongue a fatire known, Her deeds a fatire on herfelf alone.

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On her poor kindred deigns the word or look?
'Tis cold refpect, or 'tis unjuft rebuke;
Worfe when good-natur'd, than when moft fevere:
The jeft impure then pains the modell ear.
How juft the feeptic! the divine how odd!
What turns of wit play fmartly on her God!
The fates, my nearest kindred, foes decree:
Fulvia, when piqu'd at them, ftrait pities me.
She, like Benevolence, a fmile beftows,
Favours to me indulge her fpleen to those.
The banquet ferv'd, with peereffes I fit:
She tells aty flory, and repeats my wit.
With mouth distorted, through a founding nofe
It comes, now homelinefs more homely grows.
With fee-faw founds, and nonfenfe not my own,
The fkrews her features, and the cracks her tone. 20

Oft I object-but fix'd is Fulvia's willAh! though unkind, fhe is my mother still! [25 The verfe now flows, the manufcript fhe claims. 'Tis fam'd-The fame, each curious fair enflames: The wild-fire runs; from copy, copy grows: The Brets, alarm'd, a feparate peace propofe. "Tis ratified-How alter'd Fulvia's look! My wit's degraded, and my cause forfook. Thus fhe: What is poetry but to amuse? Might I advife-there are more folid views. With a cool air fhe adds: This tale is old:

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Were it my cafe, it fhould no more be told.
Complaints-had I been worthy to advise—
You know-But when are wits, like women, wife?
True it may take; but, think whate'er you lift,
All love the fatire, none the fatirist.

I start, I Rare, ftand fix'd, then pause awhile;
Then hefitate, then ponder well, then smile.
Madam-a
-a penfion loft-and where's amends!
Sir (fhe replies) indeed you 'll lofe your friends.
Why did I ftart? 'twas but a change of wind-

bow, depet, inepte, day changed her mind.

bow, depart, defpife, difcern her all : Nanny revifits, and difgrac'd I fall.

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Let Fulvia's friendship whirl with every whim! A reed, a weather-cock, a fhade, a dream: No more the friendship fhall be now display'd By weather-cock, or reed, or dream, or fhade; 50 To Nanny fix'd unvarying shall it tend, For fouls, fo form'd alike, were form'd to blend.

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