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And make each puny rogue a prey,
While they, the greater, flink away.
This fimile perhaps would strike,
If match'd with something more aliko;
Then take it dress:d a second time
In Prior's Fafe, and my Sublime. .
Say, did you never chance to meet
A mob of people in the street.
Ready to give the robb’d relief.
And all in hafte to caich a thief;
While the fly rogue, who filch'd the prey,
Too close beset to run away,
Stop thief! stop thief! exclaims aloud,
And so escapes among the crowd ?
So Ministers, &c.

O England, how I mourn thy fare !
For sure thy losses now are great ;
Two such what Briion can endure,
Minorca, or the Connoisseur!

To-day", or e'er the fun goes down, Will die the Cenfor, Mr. Town!

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September 30th, 1756, when Mr. Town, author of the Connoiffeur, a periodical Effay (hnce published in four volumes, printed for R. Baldwin, London), took leave of his readers, with an humorons account of himself.

grave !

lle dies, whoe'er takes pains to con him,
With blushing honours thick upon him;
O
may
his name

these verses save, Be these inscrib’d upon his

Know, Reader, that on Thursday died, ri The Connoisseur, a Suicide! 66 Yet think not that his soul is fled, " Nor rank him 'mongst the vulgar dead, " Howe'er defun&t you fet him down, " He's only going out of Town."

ON CONTENT.

IT
Tis not youth can give content,

Nor is it wealth's decree ;
It is a gift from Heaven fent,

Tho' not to thee or me.
It is not in the Monarch's crown,

Tho' he'd give millions for’t :
It dwells not in his Lordship’s frown,

Or waits on him to court.

It is not in a coach aud fix,

It is not in a garter ;
*Tis not in love or politics,

But 'tis in Hodge the carter.

Veni

Veni Creator Spiritus, paraphrafed.

DRYDEN.

CREATOR Spirit

, by whose aid

The world's foundations first were laid,
Come visit ev'ry pious mind ;
Come pour thy joys on human kind ;
From sin and sorrow fet us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee,

O source of increated light,
The father's promis'd Paraclete !
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ;
Come, and thy sacred unétion bring
To sanctify us, while we fing..

Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy sevenfold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
Whofe pow'r does heaven and earth command.
Proceeding Spirit, our defence
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!

Refine and purge your earthly parts ;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts !

Oir

}

D 3.

Our frailties help, our vice controul,
Submit the senses to the soul ;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.

Chase from our minds th' infernal foe,
And

peace the fruit of love, beltow ; And left our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practice all that we believe :
Give us thyself, that we may fee
The Father and the Son, by thee,

Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend the Almighty Father's name:
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for loft man's redemption died;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

WALANISASI

Discord's House.

HA

ARD by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

There whereas all plagues and harmes abounds Which punish wicked men, that walk amiss : It is a darksome delve farre under ground, With thornes and barren brakes environd round,

That none the same way may out-win; Yet many ways to enter may be found,

Bus

But none to issue forth when one is in ;
For discord-harder is to end than to begin.

And all within the riven walles were hung
With rugged monuments of times fore-past,

Of which, the sad effect of discord sung : There were rent robes, and broken scepters plac't ; Altars defil'd, and holy things defac't

Difhevered spears, and shields ytorne in twaine,
Great cittys ransackt, and strong calles ras't,

Nations captived, and huge armies slaine :
Of all which ruines there some reliques did remaine,

There was the figne of antique Babylon,
Of fatal Thebes,, of Rome that raigned long,

Of sacred Salem, and fad Ilion,
For memory of which, on high there hong
The golden apple (cause of all their wrong)

For which the three faire goddesses did ftrive :
There also was the name of Nimrod frong,

Of Alexander, and the princes five,
Which shar'd to them the spoiles which he had got

alive

And there the reliques of the drunken fray, The which amongst the Lapithees befell,

And of the bloody feast, which fent away So many centaurs drunken souls to hell, That under

great

Alcides' furie fell :
And of the dreadful discord, which did drive
The noble Argonauts to out-rage fell,

That

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