And make each puny rogue a prey,

While they,

the greater,

flink away.

This fimile perhaps would ftrike,

If match'd with fomething more alike;
Then take it drefs'd a fecond 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 catch a thief;
While the fly rogue, who filch'd the prey,
Too clofe befet to run away,

Stop thief! flop thief! exclaims aloud,
And fo efcapes among the crowd ?
So Minifters, &c.

O England, how I mourn thy fate!
For fure thy loffes now are great;
Two fuch what Briton can endure,
Minorca, or the Connoiffeur !

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

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

He dies, whoe'er takes pains to con him,
With blushing honours thick upon him;

Be thefe inferib'd upon his grave!

"Know, Reader, that on Thursday died, "The Connoiffeur, a Suicide!

"Yet think not that his foul is fled,
"Nor rank him 'mongfl the vulgar dead,
"Howe'er defun&t you fet him down,
"He's only going out of Town."

ON CONTENT.

IT is 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.

REATOR Spirit, by whofe aid

CREA

The world's foundations firft were laid,

Come vifit ev'ry pious mind ;

Come pour thy joys on human kind

;

From fin and forrow fet us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee,
O fource of uncreated light,
The father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love infpire ;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanctify us, while we fing..

Plenteous of grace, defcend from high,

Rich in thy fevenfold energy!

Thou ftrength of his Almighty hand,

Whofe pow'r does heaven and earth command..

Proceeding Spirit, our defence.

Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe,
And crown'ft thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge your earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!.

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

Chafe from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace the fruit of love, beltow;
And left our feet fhould ftep aftray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

fee

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practice all that we believe:
Give us thyfelf, that we may
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!

Difcord's Houfe.

IL

HARD by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

There whereas all plagues and harmes abound Which punish wicked men, that walk amifs: It is a dark fome delve farre under ground, With thornes and barren brakes environd round,.

That none the fame way may out-win;

Yet many ways to enter may be found,

But

But none to issue forth when one is in ;
For difcord 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 fad effect of difcord fung: There were rent robes, and broken fcepters plac't; Altars defil'd, and holy things defac't

Difhevered fpears, and fhields ytorne in twaine, Great cittys ranfackt, and ftrong cafles ras't, Nations captived, and huge armies flaine:

Of all which ruines there fome reliques did remaine.

There was the figne of antique Babylon,
Of fatal Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,
Of facred Salem, and fad Ilion,

For memory of which, on high there hong
The golden apple (caufe of all their wrong)

For which the three faire goddeffes did ftrive:
There alfo was the name of Nimrod ftrong,

Of Alexander, and the princes five,

Which fhar'd to them the spoiles which he had

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

And of the bloody feaft, which fent away So many centaurs drunken fouls to hell, That under great Alcides' furie fell:

got

And of the dreadful difcord, which did drive The noble Argonauts to out-rage fell,

alive

That