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Fearful of prefs and publication,
Confults a brother's obfervation,
Talks of the maggot of his brains,
As hardly worth the critic pains;
"If ought difgufts the fense, or ear,
"You cannot, fir, be too fevere.
"Expunge, correct, do what
"I leave it to fuperior skill;
"Exert the office of a friend,
“You may oblige, but can't offend."

you will,

This Bard too has his private clan,
Where He's the great, the only man.
Here, while the bottle and the bowl
Promote the joyous flow of foul,

(And fenfe of mind, no doubt, grows ftronger
When failing legs can stand no longer)
Emphatic judgment takes the chair,
And damns about her with an air.
Then each, felf-puff'd, and hero grown,
Able to cope with hosts alone,
Drawcanfir like, his murders blends,
First flays his foes, and then his friends.

While your good word, or converfation,
Can lend a brother reputation;
While verfe or preface quaintly penn'd,
Can raise the confequence of friend,
How vifible the kind affection!
How close the partial fond connection!
Then He is quick, and I'm difcerning,
And I have wit, and He has learning,"
My judgment's ftrong, and His is chafte,
And BOTH ay Вотн, are men of taste.

Should you nor fteal nor borrow aid,

And fet up for yourself in trade,

VOL. I.

D

Refoly'd

8

Refolv'd imprudently to show

That 'tis not always Wit and Co,
Feelings, before unknown, arife,
And Genius looks with jealous eyes.
Tho' thousands may arrive at fame,
Yet never take one path the fame.
An Author's vanity or pride
Can't bear a neighbour by his fide,
Altho' he but delighted goes

Along the track which nature shows,
Nor ever madly runs aftray,

To cross his brother in his way.

And fome there are, whofe narrow minds,
Center'd in felf, felf always blinds,
Who, at a friends re-echoed praife,
Which their own voice confpir'd to raise,
Shall be more deep and inly hurt,
Than from a foe's infulting dirt.

And fome, too timid to reveal
That glow of heart, and forward zeal,
Which words are fcanty to exprefs,
But friends muft feel from friend's fuccefs,
When full of hopes and fears, the Muse,
Which every breath of praise pursues,
Wou'd open to their free embrace,
Meet her with fuch a blafting face,
That all the brave imagination,
Which feeks the fun of approbation,
No more its early bloffoms tries,
But curls its tender leaves, and dies.

Is there a man, whofe genius ftrong,
Rolls like a rapid ftream along,

Whose Muse, long hid in chearless night,
Pours on us like a flood of light,
Whofe acting comprehenfive mind

Walks Fancy's regions, unconfin'd;

Whom

Whom, nor the furly fenfe of pride,
Nor affectation, warps afide;
Who drags no author from his shelf,
To talk on with an eye to self;
Careless alike, in converfation,

Of cenfure, or of approbation;
Who freely thinks, and freely fpeaks,
And meets the Wit he never seeks }
Whofe reafon calm, and judgment cool,
Can pity, but not hate a fool,

Who can a hearty praise bestow,
If merit fparkles in a foe,

Who bold and open, firm and true,

Flatters no friends

yet loves them too.

CHURCHILL will be the laft to know

His is the portrait, I would show.

A BAL LA D.

E fhepherds fo carelefs and gay,

YE

Who (port with the nymphs of the plain,

Take heed left you frolic away

The peace you can never regain.

Let not Folly your bofoms annoy;
And of Love, the dear mifchief, beware.
You may think 'tis all funfhine and joy,
I know 'tis o'erfhadow'd with care.

Love's morning how blithfome it shines,
With an aspect deceitfully fair;

Its day oft in forrow declines,

And it fets in the night of defpair. Hope paints the gay scene to the fight,

While Fancy her vifions beftows, And gilds ev'ry dream with delight, But to wake us to fenfible woes.

D 2

How

How hard is my lot to complain

Of a nymph whom I yet must adore, Tho' fhe love not her fhepherd again, Her DAMON muft love her the more. For it was not the pride of her fex,

That treated his vows with difdain, For it was not the pleasure to vex,

That made her delude her fond fwain.

'Twas His, the fair nymph to behold, He hop'd and he rafhly believ'd. 'Twas her's to be fatally cold;

He lov'd

and was fondly deceiv'd.
For fuch is of lovers the doom,
While paffions their reafon beguile,
'Tis warrant enough to presume,
If they catch but a look or a smile.

Yet furely my PHYLLIS would feem
To prize me moft fhepherds above;
But that might be only esteem,

While I foolishly conftru'd it love.
Yet others, like DAMON, believ'd

The nymph might have favour'd her fwain,
And others, like Him, were deceiv'd,
Like Him, tho' they cannot complain,

Of PHYLLIS was always my fong,

For fhe was my pride and my care ;
And the folks, as we wander'd along,
Wou'd call us the conjugal pair.
They mark'd how I walk'd at her fide,
How her hand to my bofom I preft,
Each tender endearment I try'd,
And I thought none was ever fo blest.

But now the delufion is o'er,

Thefe day-dreams of pleasure are fled, Now Her DAMON is pleafing no more, And the hopes of her fhepherd are dead.

May

May he that my fair fhall obtain,

May He, as thy DAMON, be true; Or haply thou❜lt think of that swain, Who bids thee, dear maiden, adieu.

N

Two additional Volumes of the Works of

THO

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HOUGH the Doctor, in an intimate correspondence with a friend, expresses himself rather kindly on trifles, and cries out vive la bagatelle, he could never then imagine that there would be fuch painful editors, and judicious collectors, who would ranfack every cabinet and corner for the amusements, perhaps, of his dotage; and, by enlarging the bulk of his volumes, diminish their ftrength. Yet thus has it often fared with the excellent Dean of St. Patrick's 3 and a foreigner must be furprized at fuch an incoherent affemblage of found reafoning, true wit, and downright nonsense, as make up the printed works of this writer. The public, however, it must be allowed, will receive much amusement from the prefent additional volumes. The divines will be glad to fee the Dean in the proper exercife of his function; and will with pleasure obferve, how he has fitted the plainnefs of his expreffion to the conceptions of his audience. They will alfo fee him here too in a new light as a controverfialift; and lament, that an anfwer to Tindal, fo masterly begun, and carried on with fuch eafy pleafantry, fhould appear without his finishing hand to it. One extract from these volumes, will be fufficient to give the reader a tafte for the whole; and as the following Effay, though intitled Hints only, is one detached compofition, the reader will accept this as a fample of the ftile, and will, not doubt, eafily perceive the hand of the mafter.

2

HINTS

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