If in your smiles we approbation read, Ti EPIGRA M. pray O CHURCHILL the bard, cries the W-r DEAN, Leathern breeches, white stockings! pray what do you mean ! 'Tis fhameful, irrev'rent-You must keep to churchrules, If wife ones I will — and if not, they're for fools; If reafon don't bind me, I'll fhake off all fetters, To be black and all black I fhall leave to my betters. The MAGP Y E. A A FABLE Magpye once, by birth a cit, Affected fashion, noife and wit. She fcorn'd her family and neighbours, Who flourish'd by their honest labours; Her plodding mate was deem'd a fool, A ufeful, defpicable tool, Whom heav'n had doom'd to toil and cares, That madam might fupport her airs. The peacock's dress and air affumes, But But pleasure is not purchas'd cheap, On GOTHAM, by C. CHURCHILL, being advertised within the laft MAGAZINE. Y OUR friend, master Lloyd! Laft ftage within fide Of your coach took a place, there's no doubt: But furely your friend Can never intend Only just to flep in, to come out. VERSES to Mifs JENNY GAY. A T length efcap'd, I've gain'd this calm retreat, Here Here all the landscape fmiles upon the eye; Know, gueft divine, a nymph adorns our plains, I love! I love! and fhe has all my foul. If e'er this rural fcene thine eye furvey'd, It must, it must have mark'd the beauteous maid. She'll She'll blefs the arms (and all my fighs are vain) Yet go, kind deity, who hear'ft this pray'r, If 'tis a crime, let this her pity move, I cannot cease this ftrain to utter ftill, Be dear Paftora mine, and take the world who will. Upon the numberlefs Advertisements of new Comments, &c. upon the BIBLE. Graculus efuriens ad cœlum jufferis, ibit. TE ELL us, ye paraphrafts, whofe zeal Not to promote religious weal, But for your private gains; Who feize the toil, with boldness rude, Of STACKHOUSE, PATRICK, HAMMOND, Can you that facred text elude, And ferve both GOD and MAMMON? No while ye write for lucre's fake, If e'er men did, ye furely take The name of God in vain. Juv. VOL. I. Iii MYRA. M Y R A. Non bene junctarum difcordia femina rerum! OVID. TR ARUE! MYRA boafts each blooming grace, For beauty revels in her face, Her fhape, her mein, he air. And when this nymph in humour kind, Engaging, gay, and free, Attunes the charms of form and mind, To fweeteft harmony, Such mufic might the fenfe of love As fympathetic brutes could move To Orpheus' magic lyre. But foon the airs of spleen and pride, The melody confound; Too foon the unifon's destroy'd By paffion's ill-tim'd found. Thus the fame God, who mufic's lore Was wont to ftrike, with horrid roar, A PANNIC in the heart. The LION and F O X. TH HERE was a lion good and gracious, A generous beaft, and not rapacious ; As great ones go, you'll scarcely find More virtue e'en amongst mankind. › Yet |