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I prefs the bed where Wilmor lay;
That here he lov'd, or here expir'd;
Begets no numbers grave or gay.
But in thy roof, ARGYLE, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof, the sky.
Such flames as high in patriots burn
Yet ftoop to blefs a child, or wife;
And fuch as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom, is more dear than life..

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OU bid me write, and fain would I
Confent, were int the fubject nam'd:
To praife your goodness I must lve,
And you would fold to be défam'd.
To call you fairest of your fox,

And fee as handfome ev'ry day,,
Instead of pleafing you, mult
vex i
You would not mind a word I fay,

For tho' an angel in my eyes,

I take your judgment to be better," Than all your equals to defpife,

On the bare credit of a letter.
Noite of all you fly hint,

Of poet's art, and flights of youth;
Whate'er for int rest I may print,
In private rhime I write the truth.
Then teach me fafely to proceed:

My verfe depends upon your act:
You need but do one gen'rous deed,

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And I fhall foon applaud the fact.
To let me live, from year to year,'
Complaining, fighing, cringing, kneeling,
'Tis plain you five to be fevere,

Or think a lover has no feeling.
I own, you fometimes can be feen,
And grant a kis one day in ten:
But what this hanging on muft mean,
Sure women know as well as men.
That ancient fiege which Homer fings,
All but your heroes had forfaken:
Ten tedious years for fixty kings!

Was long; but Troy at laft was taken.
Compare that fiege, my dear, with mine.-.

Ten years the sturdy Greeks could held :" I let me fee is more than nine;: And heroes are not -- as of old.

Woman or town whoever feeks,

At thirty life approaches noon,, **
And things go downward thence space.
Hafte! now the willing parley beat,
Ere all our stores are quite exhausted
Left on the verge of death we treat,

Bereav'd, bewinter'd, and befrosted.
Then you shall, mourn the fong neglected,
Which told you time was onward creeping
And I, the mighty prize expected to
Dwindled to one not worth the keeping!


Verfes to a Geuthman in H

Uard me, mye, or trach-nie how to bear,
I The front malignant, and the captious facer
The lewd who feel not, and the good who dread,
The fools who confare, and the tops who read;
The coxcomb's counfal, or the zealot's frown,
Add all the prigs, and pants of the town.

Oft would you fay, Leave this fatíric vein,.
Be dull, write nothing, and you pleafe again,
Talk nonfente boldly, if you talk at all;"
Laugh when the coxcombs laugh and ling and

Better to fleep in peaceful profe at night,

Thon hazard enmity by what you write.
Obferve how MARCUS fooths the great ones

Like him, be wife, and throw your books aside.
Purfue the fafer ftudy of the town,

And ev'ry art of pleafing is thy own.

But fay, my friend, nor bluth to own it too,
The rules you give, why do you not purfue?,
Who ever faw thee (mile at TARASO's talk,
Or laugh with NUTBRAIN when he crack'd his

When did you die at FARINELIT's fong
LF Or bow to HUMDRM as he pafs'd along
Say; are your pleas dy when Borus tells his ye
Convinc'd, when JANUS thinks to criticize
Frighten'd, when UMBRA thunders round the

Much fhorter ways they now proceed in;
They feldom wait fo many weeks,-
Read Marle rough's Life, or Charles of Sweden!
Thofe few remaining months deduct,

On better terms you may furrender;
Our pleasure nothing can obstruct,
While I am young, and you are tender.
But feeble age and wrinkles foon

Shall youth and tenderness difplace

And makes all tremble, but his wife, at home?
Corrupted, when you hear BALBUTIOs call
Mofes a villain, and a blockhead Paul?
With other things that wound the modeft ear ;*
And fuch as Woolfton had difdain'd to hear,

With thefe, who can endure to live at peace ?
Tho' lords admire, and duchenfes carefs b. 191 W/
With thefe, thy honest heart no converfe shares ;-
With thefe, my verfe fhall wage perpetual wars.

Is there a man whom heav'n has bleft with fenfe ?
Diftinguish'd more by worth, than affluence
Whofe learning never lufts to mifapply;
Who can't impofc, nor knows to make a lye :
Whofe heart humane extends to all mankind,
Whom tears can foften, and whom oaths can bind.
Who eyes, with pity, merit in diftrefs7
Nor fleeps a moment 'till he make it lefsta
Who melts to hear the helpless orphans cries;
And wipes the tears from their lamenting eyese,
Him, would my honeft verfe diftinguish'd name
Reveal his merit, and confign to fame.

Or fhould a nymph divinely bright appear;
With all that's lovely, innocent and fair.
Whofe gentle temper fweetens every grace;
And generous mind gives beauty to her face:


In vain to you th' experienc'd would reveal
Who forms no with, but what the world might haThat peace the virtuous tafte; thofe joys they feel.

Tho' lively, grave good-natur'd, when fevere.
Gay without pride, and without meanness free;
The wifh and praife of every company:

Why should I blush, where fuch perfections meet,
To throw a little incenfe at her feet?

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Yet fome will fay, intend it as you will,
Satire or praife will be indifferent still
The fools you hit, return it with a fheer,in W
And praife affects not now a lady's ear;
For praife or fatire here has loft its power,
Nine days they read, and never think on't more.'
Who can be filent long that knows the town?
Tho' coxcombs hate me, and the fair difown,
Imaft diftinguish 'twixt my friends and foes;
Thefe I c
I can't praife, nor e'er abandon those.
Whilft thou the focial minutes wilt allow,
will not be my foe;
And honeft C
If lovely S deign to hear my rain,
Nor by her conduct fhew I write in vain;
While beauteous B-

To you the joys of the regen rate mina
Are founds to deafnefs, colours to the blind. A
And as it enters not the minds of beafts, D
What blifs, to theirs fuperior, reafon taftes
So you, who only fenfual pleasures know,
Can ne'er conceive the joys divine that flow
In the pure breaft that burns with heav'nly love,
Bleft with fweet longings for

But methodifs, "enthufials you above.
Their zeal, their joy, is madnefs of the brain.
But whence fo confident to tail and fneer,
When reafon's not produc'd, nor facts appear?
Tho eafy, things t' affirm, or things deny
'Tis oft an arduous task to tell us,


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Your fancy'd wit your real folly fhows gut bef Deriding others, you yourfelves expofe.

What! own your hearts ne'er feel th' indwelling


fhines with native cafe, Nor tafte the comforts of his fweet abode 0
Go, and let prudence check you, nor proclaim
What blafts your honour, and must fix your fhame.
Think, deeply think, on dying beds when laid,
Who'll then be moft confiding, leaft difmay'd;
They, who ne'er feel the Spirit in their breaft;
Or they, who of the gift cœleftial tafte,
Malice, at laft, in thofe grave hours may fail,
'Gainft Welley's, Ingban's, Roger's names to rail.

With every gift, and every art to pleafe;
While the fmiles approbation on my lays,
Allows the fatire, and will join the praife;
(Tho' fome infift my lines are Grubfireet grown;
Or, more obliging, fwear they're not my own;)
The modeft fhall touch the trembling lyre,
And fing what truth and innocence infpire:
By thefe protected, I feclude all fear;
Approv'd by thefe, no cenfures vex my ear:
By thefe effeem'd, tho' foes or fortune frown,
If joys in life there be, they're all my own,
Mr URBAN. Being invited lately to spend an E-
wening with a Friend in a Grotto of his, to my
great Surprize, I found a beautiful Lady Standing
on a Pedestal, which occafion'd the following Lines.
Hen firft in Venus' grott I ventur'd,

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My foul with fear and love was mov'd;
Fear wou'd have check'd me ere I enter'd,
But Love the stronger paffion prov'd.
The doubtful conflict hence proceeded :

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A beauteous form the manhien gracid;
Love held that art fhe far exceeded, adw
Fear, that by art, not nature placa.
Fear, to defend his caufe, afferted,
Perhaps, Rome's doctrine here prevails
Beauty in imagery's converted, wouldnW

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When all their ftock of cunning fails.bol Love laugh'd and faid, Thou'rt vanquish'd, Fear, Thy fuppofition is not good;


Then gently whifper'd in my ear, nem & spra
"Go taste, I found her flesh and blood.
$lem of word once fac odW
On inward Feelings; or, the happy Experiences of
rta visos mor
Azco ma devout Souls.


E flaves to worldly joys! low fons of earth!
How vain your laughter, and how mad your


All your enjoyments are fallacious fires;
The flame of crackling thorns, that foon expires:
Your pleasures faft in chains your reafon bind,
And ftupify th' inebriated mind.

The Berklebem monarch, high on fancy's throne,
Enjoys as fober transports as your own.
Vain then to understanding your pretence,
As the mad finner who fo void of fenfe?

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Nor fculptor's art, nor joyner's fkill was known,
Thefe by our Roman vifitors were taught, d A
Which they from Greece, and Greece from Egypt

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Soon Thames along her rifing fhores admires
Her ftoney battlements, and lofty fpires
Sublime Augufta rais'd her tow'ry head,
Her Albion's pride, and envying neighbour's dread.
Since founded firft, a thousand years twice told,
Two thousand funs have annual circles roll'd;
Perpetual growth has ftretch'd her ample bound,
'Till fcarce fev'n leagues can mete her circuit round.
A hundred temples for devotion rife,

A hundred fteeples glitter in the fkies wat sor
Lo! in the midftWren's wondrous pile appears,
Which, like a mountain, its huge bulk uprears;
Such fure to failors on a diftant fream,
The lofty pike of Tenerif muft feem.

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Mufe, mount with eafy flight th' afpiring dome,
And let thy eyes o'er the wide profpect roam.
See how the Thames with dimpling motion fmiles,
And from all climes prefents Augufta fpoils:
Eastward behold! a thousand veffels ride,
Which like a floating city crowd her tide.
See the ftrong bridge connect the diftant fhores;
The flood beneath thro' ftraitning arches roars:
(Above, amazing fight! two lengthning rows
Of lofty buildings a fair ftreet compofe :)
Still farther eaft, large as a town, is feen
The Tow'r, a ftrong and copious magazine;
There, in becoming order, rang'd remain
Arms oft victorious on the hoftile plain;
Drums, cannon, fwords and bombs inactive fleep,
And thunders brood which Britain's foes fhall weep.
Look all around, and note the bustling throng,
How thro' each street, like waves, they prefs along.
There ftands th' Exchange, ('tis now the bufy time)
Refort of merchants drawn from ev'ry clime;
Far weft remark our monarch's regal feat,.
See there the dome where powerful fenates meet;
There Rufus's ancient hall refounds with law!
And there the abbey ftrikes religious awe!
Thus London fhines in fame the firft and beft,
May all, who Labour for ber peace, be bleft!

Mr URBAN, In my Journey to London, from
Northamptonshire, putting up at the George in
Creek, I found there a Print of bis Majefty
King George, ornamented with warlike Trophies,
and read under it, written with a Pencil, the
following Lines, which, I believe, confider'd as a
fudden Flight,will not be dijagreeable. Yours, C. E.
Humble, great George! the pilfering Spaniard's


Or lay thefe ufelefs ornaments alide:"
Remember Oudenarda's fanguine field,
Where conftant victory hover'd o'er thy fhield:
Trophies like thefe thy early youth have grac'd,
O let not patriots fay,they're now mifplac'd!
Support our finking trade, affert thy crown;
And fight, to fave our honour, and thy own.
May 26, 1739.

SIR, The following beautiful Compliment, is from
the Second Edition of Dr Broome's Poems, lately

To the Hon. Mrs Elizabeth Townshend, new Lady
Cornwallis, on ber Picture, at Rainham..


H! cruel hand, that could fuch pow'r employ
To teach the pictur'd beauty to destroy!
Singly the charm'd before, but by his skill
The living beauty and her likeness kill;
Thns when in parts the broken mirrours fall,
A face in all is feen, and charms in all!

Think then, O faireft of the fairer race,
What fatal beauties arm thy heavn'ly face,
Whose very fhadow can fuch flames infpire;
We fee 'tis paint, and yet we feel 'tis fire.

See! with falfe life the lovely image glows,
And every wond'rous grace tranfplanted shows;
Fatally fair the new creation reigns,

Charms in her fhape, and multiplies our pains;
Hence the fond youth, that eafe by abfence found,
Views the dear form, and bleeds at every wound;
Thus the bright Venus, tho' to heav'n fhe foar'd,
Reign'd in her image, by the world ador'd.

O! wond'rous pow'r of mingled fight and fhades?
Where paffions are beheld in picture wrought,
Where beauty with dumb eloquence perfuades,
And animated colours look a thought;
Rare art on whofe command all nature waits!
It copies all omnipotence creates;

Here crown'd with mountains earth expanded lies,
There the proud feas with all their billows rife ;
If life be drawn, refponfive to the thought
The breathing figures live throughout the draught;
The mimic bird in fkies fictitious moves,
Or fancy'd beasts in imitated groves:
Ev'n heav'n it climbs; and from the forming hands
An angel here, and there a Towabend ftands.

Yet, painter, yet, tho' art with nature strive,
Tho' ev'n the lovely phantom feem alive,
Tho' fair, defective, and a beauteous fault;
Submit thy vanquish'd art and own the draught
Charms, fuch as hers, inimitably great,
He only can exprefs, that can create.
Could't thou extract the whiteness of the fnow,
Or of its colours rob the heav'nly bow,
Yet would her beauty triumph o'er thy fkill,
Lovely in thee, herfelf more lovely ftill!

Thus in the limpid fountain we delery
The faint refemblance of the glitt'ring fky;
Another heav'n adorns th' enlightned ftreams;
Another fun difplays his teffend beams,
But tho' the fcene be fair, yet high above
Th' exalted fkies in nobler beauties move;
There the true heav'ns eternal lamps difplay,
A deluge of inimitable day.

*Now Lady Cornwallis.

N. B. The Debates, which are most call'd for taking up many Pages, Pfalm 104. From Buchanan, must be again popened, with many other Pieces in Verfe and Profe, of which we can only mention Mr Silk': Justification of himself against Mr Weaver.

obferue, that we knew the Peen on the Dacian Battle in our N. B. In answer to fome of our kind Correfpondents, we must

laft was from Mr Watts's Hora Lyrica; noted, confusing there might be Doign in tording the Gene let it go untleman's Introdution to it. Perhaps, the Lendon Magaziners, happy if they can have any thing to fay of us! may tell the Pub gus Gentlemeu affert, in their laf, that we ftole the Poem on lie, what few Readero of Poetry can be ignorant of Thefe egre of Mr Parker, to do Fulice to his Relation, the Author. The Stoke's Bay from them; whereas it was inferted, at the Defire Alterations and Additions were not by our Operator, as they aMr Parker thought necellary to alter. But could we feal from ver: We gave the Original entire, except a few Rhime, which them the Conclufion, confifting of 26 Lines, and other Verses, Name wrong Urban is fill a Strange to the Auther's which they omitted? They add, that Dr Urban bas, by Aes great Depth of Learning, difce ar'd that they felt the Author's Name but has abfered that, upon a Word berug mifpals in fone Latin Lines, inferted in the Gentleman's Magazine for November laft, thefe Gentlemen republish'd the fame Piece, alter'd in two Words, then triumph'd in the following Terms: Every Reader, who is a Judge, would choose to have the Publi •cation of a good Piece delayed for a Month, rather than to kape it publish'd in fuch a fupid and very Poem was, &c. The Public knows what a Cry of butchincotred Manner, as this ering, maiming and murdering they would have raised, bad we left out fo many beautiful Linoton Asta the Charge ofhet, when fo well made out, is a very material Point 4 hope they will not forget it, when they want to appear again with a triumphant air: Nay, we shall furnish them with an Ocafone They bad, in March lat, a Poem by a Father on the Death of his Daughter, which took up above 3 of the Columns, We freely confent that they accufe us of fealing in from them in our Magazine for June, Jeventeen hundred thirty One, which had fve Editions; fo that they may add we ftole it fue timer; nay, did not vary a fyllable in order to make a Paltry Excufe for the Theft.


In fome Books, pag. 474,, Col. 1. line 5. from the Bot tom, for Menths, read Weeks,

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ONG. Set to Mufick by Mr S. STUBLEY.


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Twas this bereaved my Soul of Reft,
And rais'd fuch Tumults in my Breaft;
For while I gazdin Tramports toff,
My Breath was gone, my Voice was loft.
ལྔས་བe་སྐད་) hrilrt»Y6556lnE•AcnLE!!

My Bofom Flow'd the fubtle Flame,bole Ran quick thro, all my vital Frame, alaxy 120 to 2) et grid was equ oman sloff distat moltes halatur; mada mort d meneland off of of, 1914

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O'er my dim Eyes a Darknefs hung,
My Ears with hollow Murmurs rung vet i

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Thefe cheeks no cumion rofeos grace
No brilliants fparkle in thele eyes.
See Calce's bloom, of Dapher's fire:
Go! tune your long to Delia's charms;
How can I kindle fort defire P

Or This languish in these arms
Ah cruel, ceafe the youth replies A
To outward charms my Love is blind:


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Lefs bright to me are Christeyes, os and
Than Laura's fenfe, and gentle mind.
The woodline o'er yor, fountain, feet stor
Her fainter colours thus furveys,
Chides from her for the am rous bee,
And bids that gaudy alp, pleafe.
Yet Deld's features, Daptae's fire,

Sure Laura in this glais may views
The charms that raifé my fierce defira
No mirror, but this heart, gan tha

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