Such as the drawer will not fail to fwear
Was drunk by Pilkington when third time mayor.
That name, methinks, fo popularly known
For oppofition to the church and crown,
Might make the Lufitanian grape to pass,
And almoft give a fanétion to the glass;
Efpecially with thee, whofe hafty zcal
Against the late rejected commerce-bill
Made thee rife up, like an audacious elf,
To do the Speaker bonour, not thyself.

But, if thou foar'ft above the common prices,
By virtue of subscription to thy Crifis,
And nothing can go down with thee, but wines
Prefs'd from Burgundian and Campanian vines,
Bid them be brought; for, though I hate the French,
I love their liquors, as though lov'ft a wench;
Elfe thou must humble thy expensive taste,
And, with us, hold contentment for a feast.
The fire's already lighted; and the maid
Has a clean cloth upon the table laid,
Who never on a Saturday had truck,
But for thy entertainment, up a buck.
Think of this act of grace, which by your leave
Sufan would not have done on Easter Eve,
Had the not been inform'd over and over,
"Twas for the ingenious Author of The Lover.

Ceafe therefore to beguile thyfelf with hopes, Which is no more than making fandy ropes, And quit the vain purfuit of loud applaufe, That must bewilder thee in faction's caufe. Pry'thee what is't to thee who guides the state? Why Dunkirk's demolition is fo late? Or why her Majefty thinks fit to cease The din of war, and hush the world to peace? The clergy too, without thy aid, can tell What texts to choose, and on what topics dwell; And, uninftructed by thy babbling, teach Their flocks celeftial happiness to reach. Rather let fuch poor fouls as you and I Say that the holidays are drawing nigh, And that to-morrow's fun begins the week, Which will abound with ftore of ale and cake, With hams of bacon, and with powder'd beef, Stuff'd to give field-itinerants relief.

Then I, who have within these precincts kept, And ne'er beyond the chimney-fweeper's ftept, Will take a loofe, and venture to be feen, Since 'twill be Sunday, upon Shanks's green; 'There, with erected looks and phrafe fublime, To talk of unity of place and time,

And with much malice, mix'd with little fatire, Explode the wits on t'other fide o'th' water.

Why has my Lord Godolphin's fpecial grace
Invefted me with a queen's-waiter's place,
If I, debarr'd of feftival delights,

Am not allow'd to spend the perquifites?
He's but a fhort remove from being mad,
Wlo at a time of jubilee is fad;
And, like a griping ufurer, does fpare
His money to be fquander'd by his heir;
blutter'd away in liveries and in coaches,
And wathy forts of feminine debauches.

As for my part, whate'er the world may think,
I'll bid adieu to gravity, and drink;

And, though I can't put off a woeful mien,
Will be all mirth and cheerfulness within:
As, in defpight of a cenforious race,
I most incontinently fuck my face.

What mighty projects does not he defign, [wine?
Whose ftomach flows, and brain turns round with
Wine, powerful wine, can thaw the frozen cit,
And fashion him to humour and to wit;
Makes even S**** to disclose his art,

By racking every fecret from his heart,
As he flings off the ftatefman's fly disguise,
To name the cuckold's wife with whom he lies.
Ev'n Sarum, when he quaffs it stead of tea,
Fancies himself in Canterbury's fee;
And S******, when he caroufing reels,
Imagines that he has regain'd the feals:
W******, by virtue of its juice, can fight,
And Stanhope of commiffioners make light.
Wine gives Lord William aptitude of parts,
And fwells him with his family's deferts:
Whom can it not make eloquent of speech?
Whom in extremeft poverty not rich?
Since, by the means of the prevailing grape,
Th****n can Lechmere's warmth not only ape,
But, half-feas-o'er, by its infpiring bounties,
Can qualify himself in feveral counties.
What I have promis'd, thou mayst rest affur'd,
Shall faithfully and gladly be procur'd.
Nay, I'm already better than my word,
New plates and knives adorn the jovial board:
And, left thou at their fight fhouldft makewry faces,
The girl has fcower'd the pots, and wash'd the glaffes,
Ta'en care fo excellently well to clean 'em,
That thou mayft fee thine own dear picture in 'em,
Moreover, due provifion has been made,
That converfation may not be betray'd;
I have no company but what is proper
To fit with the moft flagrant Whig at fupper.
There's not a man among them but must please
Since they 're as like each other as are peas.
Toland and Hare have jointly fent me word,
They'll come; and Kennet thinks to make a third,
Provided he as no other invitation,
From men of greater quality and station.
Room will for Oldmixon and J-s be left;
But their difcourfes fmell too much of theft:
There would be no abiding in the room,
Should two fuch ignorant pretenders come.
However, by this trufty bearer write,
If I fhould any other scabs invite;

Though if I may my ferious judgment give,
I'm wholly for King Charles's number five:
That was the ftint in which that monarch fix'd,
Who would not be with noifinefs perplex'd:
And that, if thou 'It agree to think it beft,
Shall be our tale of heads, without one other gueft.
I've nothing more, now this is said, to say,
Bat to request thou 'lt inftantly away,
And leave the duties of thy prefent post,
To fome well-fkill'd retainer to a hoft;
Doubtless he'll carefully thy place fupply,
And o'er his Grace's horfes have an eye,
While thou who 'it flunk through postern more than
Dolt by that means avoid a crowd of duns,
Aad, croing o'er the Thames at Temple-ftairs,
Leav't Philips with good words to cheat their ears.

TO LORD HARLEY,

ON HIS MARRIAGE, 1713.

AMONG the numbers who employ
Their tongues and pens to give you joy,

[once,

Dear Harley! generous youth, admit
What friendship dictates more than wit.
Forgive me, when I fondly thought
(By frequent obfervations taught)
A fpirit fo inform'd as yours
Could never profper in amours.

The God of Wit, and Light, and Arts,
With all acquir'd and natural parts,
Whofe harp could favage beats enchant,
Was an unfortunate gallant.

Had Bacchus after Daphne reel'd,

The Nymph had foon been brought to yield!
Or, had embroider'd Mars purfued,
The Nymph would ne'er have been a prude.
Ten thoufand footsteps, full in view,
Mark out the way where Daphne flew :
For fuch is all the fex's flight,
They fly from learning, wit, and light:
They fly, and none can overtake
But fome gay coxcomb, or a rake.

How then, Dear Harley, could I guess
That you fhould meet, in love, fuccels?
For, if those ancient tales be true,
Phœbus was beautiful as you:
Yet Daphne never flack'd her pace,
For wit and learning spoil'd his face.
And, fince the fame refemb'ance held
In gifts wherein you both excell'd,
I fancy'd every nymph would run
From you, as from Latona's fon.

Then where, faid I, fhall Harley find
A virgin of fuperior mind,
With wit and virtue to difcover,
And pay the merit of her lover?
This character fhall Ca'endifh claim,
Born to retrieve her fex's fame.
The chief among the glittering crowd,
Of titles, birth, and fortune proud,
(As fools are infolent and vain)
Madly afpir'd to wear her chain :
But Pallas, guardian of the Maid,
Defcending to her charge's aid,
Held out Medufa's fnaky locks,
Which ftupify'd them all to stocks.
The Nymph with indignation view'd
The dull, the noify, and the lewd:
For Pallas, with celeftial light,
Had purify'd her mortal fight;
Show'd her the virtues all combin'd,
Fresh blooming, in young Harley's mind.
Terrestrial nymphs, by former arts,
Difp'ay their various nets for hearts:
Their looks are all by method fet,
When to be prude, and when coquette;
Yet, wanting skill and power to choose,
Their only pride is to refufe.
But, when a gooddefs would bestow
Her love on fome bright youth below,
Round all the earth fhe cafts her eyes;
And then, defcending from the fkies,
Makes choice of him the fancies best,
And bids the ravish'd youth be blefs'd.
Thus the bright Emprefs of the Morn
Chofe, for her fpouse, à mortal born:
The Goddess made advances first;
Elfe what afpiring hero durst?
Though, like a virgin of fifteen,
She blushes when by mortals feen;

Still blushes, and with fpeed retires,
When Sol pursues her with his fires.

Diana thus, Heaven's chasteft queen,
Struck with Endymion's graceful mien,
Down from her filver chariot came,
And to the Shepherd own'd her flame.
Thus Ca'endifh, as Aurora bright,
And chafter than the Queen of Night,
Defcended from her fphere, to find
A mortal of fuperior kind.

IN SICKNESS.

Written in Ireland, October 1714.

"Tis true then why fhould I repine
To fee my life fo faft decline?
But why obfcurely here alone,
Where I am neither lov'd nor known?
My state of health none care to learn;
My life is here no foul's concern:
And thofe with whom I now converse,
Without a tear will tend my herfe.
Remov'd from kind Arbuthnot's aid,
Who knows his art, but not his trade,
Preferring his regard for me

Before his credit or his fee.
Some formal vifits, looks, and words,
What mere humanity affords,

I meet perhaps from three or four,
From whom I once expected more;
Which those who tend the fick for pay
Can act as decently as they :
But no obliging tender friend
To help at my approaching end.
My life is now a burden grown
To others, ere it be my own.

Ye formal weepers for the fick,
In your laft offices be quick;
And fpare my abfent friends the grief
To hear, yet give me no relief;
Expir'd to-day, intomb'd to-morrow,
When known, will fave a double forrow.

THE FABLE OF THE BITCHES.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1715.

On an Attempt to repeal the Teft Að,
A BITCH that was full pregnant grown,
By all the dogs and curs in town,
Finding her ripen'd time was come,
Her litter teeming from her womb,
Went here and there, and every where,
To find an eafy place to lay-her.

At length to Mufic's house the came, And begg'd like one both blind and lame; "My only friend, my dear," said she, "You fee 'tis mere neceflity "Hath fent me to your houfe to whelp; “I'll die, if you deny your help.”

With fawning whine, and rueful tone, With artful figh and feigned groan, With couchant cringe, and flattering tale, Smooth Bawty.+ did fo far prevail,

The Church of England.

† A Scatch name for a bitch; alluding to the kirk.

That Mufic gave her leave to litter:
But mark what follow'd-faith! fhe bit her.
Whole baskets full of bits and scraps,
And broth enough to fill her paps;
For, well the knew, her numerous brood,
For want of milk, would fuck her blood.

But when the thought her pains were done, And now 'twas high time to be gone; In civil terms-"My friend," fays fhe, "My house you 've had on courtesy ; "And now I earnestly defire,

"That you would with your cubs retire:
"For, fhould you stay but one week longer,
"I fhall be starv'd with cold and hunger."

The guest reply'd-" My friend, your leave "I muft a little longer crave;

Stay till my tender cubs can find "Their way for now, you fee, they 're blind; "But, when we've gather'd strength, I swear, "We'll to our barn again repair.'

The time pafs'd on; and Music came,
Her kennel once again to claim;
But Bawty, loft to fhame and honour,
Set all her cubs at once upon her;
Made her retire, and quit her right,
And loudly cry'd-" A bite! a bite!"

THE MORAL.

Thus did the Grecian wooden horfe Conceal a fatal armed force: No fooner brought within the walls, But Ilium's loft, and Priam falls.

HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II.

TO THE EARL OF OXFORD, LATE LORD TREA

SURER.

Sent to bim when in the Tower, 1716.

How bleft is he who for his country dies,
Since Death pursues the coward as he flies!
The youth in vain would fly from Fate's attack,
With trembling knees and terror at his back;
Though Fear fhould lend himpinions like the wind,
Yet fwifter Fate will feize him from behind.

Virtue repuls'd, yet knows not to repine,
But fhall with unattained honour fhine;
Nor ftoops to take the flaff*, nor lays it down,
Juft as the rabble pleafe to smile or frown.

Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try
Some new unbeaten passage to the sky;
Where Jove a feat among the gods will give
To thofe who die for meriting to live.

Next, faithful Silence hath a fure reward;
Within our breaft be every fecret barr'd!
He who betrays his friend, fhall never be
Under one roof, or in one fhip, with me.
For who with traitors would his fafety truft,
Left, with the wicked, heaven involve the just?
And, though the villain 'fcape awhile, he feels
Slow vengeance, like a blood-hound, at his heels.

* The enfign of the Lord Treasurer's office.

PHYLLIS;

OR, THE PROGRESS OF LOVE, 1716.
DESPONDING Phyllis was endued
With every talent of a prude:
She trembled when a man drew near;
Salute her, and the turn'd her ear;
If o'er against her you were plac'd,
She durft not look above your waist:
She'd rather take you to her bed,
Than let you fee her drefs her head:
In church you hear her, through the crowd,
Repeat the abfolution loud:

In church, fecure behind her fan,
She durft behold that monster man;
There practis'd how to place her head,
And bit her lips to make them red;
Or, on the mat devoutly kneeling,
Would lift her eyes up to the cieling,
And heave her bofom unaware,
For neighbouring beaux to fee it bare.
At length a lucky lover came,
And found admittance to the dame.
Suppofe all parties now agreed,
The writings drawn, the lawyer fee'd,
The vicar and the ring befpoke:

Guefs, how could fuch a match be broke?
See then what mortals place their blifs in!
Next morn betimes the bride was miffing:
The mother fcream'd, the father chid;
Where can this idle wench be hid?
No news of Phyl! the bridegroom came,
And thought his bride had fkulk'd for fhame;
Because her father us'd to fay,

The girl bad fuch a bafkful way!

Now John the butler must be sent
To learn the road that Phyllis went.
The groom was wifh'd to faddle Crop;
For John must neither light nor ftop,
But find her, wherefoc'er fhe fled,
And bring her back, alive or dead.

See here again the devil to do!
For truly John was mifling too:
The horfe and pillion both were gone!
Phyllis, it feems, was fled with John.

Old Madam, who went up to find
What papers Phyl had left behind,
A letter on the toilet fees,

To
my much-bonour'd father-thefe-
("Tis always done, romances tell us,
When daughters run away with fellows)
Fill'd with the choiceft common-places,
By others us'd in the like cafes.
"That long ago a fortune-teller
"Exactly faid what now befel her;
"And in a glafs had made her fee
"A ferving-man of lor degree.
"It was her fate, must be forgiven;
"For marriages were made in heaven:
"His pardon begg'd: but, to be plain,
"She'd do 't, if 'invere to do again:
"Thank'd God, 'twas neither fame nor
"For John was come of boneft kin.
"Love never thinks of rich and poor :
"She'd beg with John from door to door.
"Forgive her, if it be a crime;
"She'll never do 't another time.

rfin ;

"She ne'er before in all her life "Once difobey'd him, maid nor wife. "One argument the fumm'd up all in, "The thing was done, and paft recalling; "And therefore hop'd the fhould recover "His favour, when his paffion's over. "She valued not what others thought her, "And was his moft obedient daughter." Fair maidens, all attend the Muse, Who now the wandering pair pursues: Away they rode in homely fort, Their journey long, their money fhort; The loving couple well bemir'd; The horse and both the riders tir'd: Their victuals bad, their lodging worse; Phyl cry'd, and John began to curfe: Phyl with'd that she had strain'd a limb, When firft the ventur'd out with him; Jehn wifh'd that he had broke a leg, When first for her he quitted Peg.

But what adventures more befel them, The Mufe hath now no time to tell them, How Johnny wheeddled, threaten'd, fawn'd, Till Phyllis all her trinkets pawn'd: How oft' fhe broke her marriage vows In kindness to maintain her spouse, Till fwains unwholefome fpoil'd the trade; For now the furgeons must be paid, To whom those perquifites are gone, In Chriftian juftice due to John.

When food and raiment now grew scarce, Fate put a period to the farce, And with exact poetic juftice; For John was landlord, Phyliis hostess; They kept, at Staines, the Old Blue Boar, Are cat and dog, and rogue and whore.

AD AMICUM ERUDITUM

THOMAM SHERIDAN, 1717.

DELICIE Sheridan Mufarum, dulcis amice,
Si tibi propitius Permeffi ad flumen Apollo
Occurrat, feu te mimum convivia rident,
Equivocofque fales fpargis, feu ludere versu
Males; dic, Sheridan, quifnam fuit ille deorum,
Que melior natura orto tibi tradidit artem
Rimandi genium puerorum, atque ima cerebri
Scrutandi? Tibi nafcenti ad cunabula Pallas
Aftitit; & dixit, mentis præfaga futuræ,
Heu, puer infelix! noftro fub fidere natus;
Nam tu pectus eris fine corpore, corporis umbra;
Sed evitate umbram fuperabis, voce cicadam:
Mufca femur, palmas tibi mus dedit, ardea crura.
Corpore fed tenui tibi quod natura negavit,
Hoc animi dotes fupplebunt; teque docente,
Nec longum tempus, furget tibi docta juventus,
Artibus egregiis animas inftructa novellas.
Grex hinc Paonius venit, ecce, falutifer orbi.
Aft, ili caufas orant; his infula vifa eft
Divinam capiti nodo conftringere mitram.

Natalis te horæ non fallunt figna, fed ufque
Confcius, expedias puero feu lætus Apollo
Nafcenti arrifit; five illum frigidus horror
Saturni premit, aut feptem inflavere triones.

Quin tu alte penitufque latentia femina cernis, Ceaque diu obtundendo olim fub luminis auras

VIRTUE Conceal'd within our breast,

Is inactivity at best :

But never fhall the mufe endure

To let your virtues lie obfcure,

Or fuffer Envy to conceal

Your labours for the public weal.
Within your breaft all wifdom lies,
Either to govern or advise;
Your fteady foul preferves her frame
In good and evil times the fame.
Pale Avarice and lurking Fraud
Stand in your facred prefence aw'd;
Your hand alone from gold abftains,
Which drags the flavish world in chains,
Him for a happy man I own,
Whofe fortune is not overgrown;
And happy he, who wifely knows
To ufe the gifts that Heaven bestows;
Or, if it pleafe the Powers Divine,
Can fuffer want, and not repine,
The man who, infamy to fhun,
Into the arms of death would run,
That man is ready to defend
With life his country, or his friend.

TO MR. DELANY, Nov. 10. 1718.

To you, whofe virtues, I must own
With fhame, I have too lately known;
To you, by art and nature taught
To be the man I long have fought,
Had not ill fate, perverfe and blind,
Plac'd you in life too far behind;
Or, what I fhould repine at more,
Plac'd me in life too far before:
To you the muse this verfe beftows,
Which might as well have been in profe;
No thought, no fancy, no fublime,
But fimple topics told in rhyme.

Talents for conversation fit,
Are humour, breeding, fenfe, and wit;
The laft, as boundiefs as the wind,
Is well conceiv'd, though not defin'd:
For, fure, hy wit is chiefly meant
Applying well what we invent.
What humour is, not all the tribe
Of logic-mongers can defcribe;
Here nature only acts her part,
Unhelp'd by practice, books, or art:
For wit and humour differ quite;
That gives furprise, and this delight.
Humour is odd, grotefque, and wild,
Only by affectation spoil'd ;

C

'Tis never by invention got,

Men have it when they know it not.
Our converfation to refine,

Humour and wit must both combine:
From both we learn to railly well,
Wherein fometimes the French excel.
Voiture, in various lights, difplays
That irony which turns to praise:
His genius first found out the rule
For an obliging ridicule :
He flatters with peculiar air

The brave, the witty, and the fair:
And fools would fancy he intends
A fatire, where he moft commends.
But, as a poor pretending beau,
Because he fain would make a show,
Nor can arrive at filver lace,
Takes up with copper in the place:
So the pert dunces of mankind,
Whene'er they would be thought refin'd,
As if the difference lay abftrufe
"Twixt raillery and grofs abuse;

To show their parts, will scold and rail,
Like porters o'er a pot of ale.
Such is that clan of boisterous bears,
Always together by the ears;
Shrewd fellows and arch wags, a tribe
That meet for nothing but a gibe;
Who firft run one another down,
And then fall foul on all the town;
Skill'd in the horse-laugh and dry rub,
And call'd by excellence The Club.
I mean your Butler, Dawfon, Car,
All fpecial friends, and always jar.

The mettled and the vicious steed
Differ as little in their breed;
Nay, Voiture is as like Tom Leigh
As rudeness is to repartee.

If what you faid I wish unfpoke,
"Twill not fuffice it was a joke:
Reproach not, though in jeft, a friend
For those defects he cannot mend;
His lineage, calling, shape, or fense,
If nam'd with fcorn, gives just offence.
What ufe in life to make men fret,
Part in worse humour than they met ?
Thus all fociety is loft,

Men laugh at one another's coft;
And half the company is teaz'd,
That came together to be pleas'd:
For all buffoons have most in view
To please themfelves by vexing you.
You wonder now to fee me write
So gravely on a fubject light:
Some part of what I here defign,
Regards a friend of yours and mine;
Who, neither void of fenfe nor wit,
Yet feldom judges what is fit,
But fallies oft' beyond his bounds,
And takes unmeasurable rounds.

When jefts are carried on too far, And the loud laugh begins the war, You keep your countenance for shame, Yet ftill you think your friend to blame : For, though men cry they love a jest, "Tis but when others fand the test;

Dr. Sheridan.

And (would you have their meaning known)
They love a jeft that is their own.

You must, although the point be nice,
Beftow your friend fome good advice:
One hint from you will fet him right,
And teach him how to be polite.
Bid him, like you, obferve with care,
Whom to be hard on, whom to spare;
Nor indiftin&tly to suppose

All fubjects like Dan Jackfon's nofe*.
To ftudy the obliging jeft,

By reading those who teach it beft;
For profe I recommend Voiture's,
For verfe (1 fpeak my judgment) yours.
He'll find the fecret ont from thence,
To rhyme all day without offence;
And I no more fhall then accuse
The flirts of his ill-manner'd mufe.

If he be guilty, you must mend him;
If he be innocent, defend him.

DELANY reports it, and he has a fhrewd tongue That we both act the part of the clown and cow

[burst,

dung; We lie cramming ourselves, and are ready to Yet ftill are no wifer than we were at first. Pudet bac opprobria, I freely muft tell ye,

Et dici potuife, et non potuiffe refelli.

Though Delany advis'd you to plague me no longer,
You reply and rejoin like Hoadly of Bangor.
I must now, at one fitting, pay off my old fcore;
How many to anfwer? One, two, three, four.
But, because the three former are long ago paft,
I fhail, for method fake, begin with the laff.
You treat me like a boy that knocks down his foe,
Who, 'ere t'other gets up, demands the rifing blow.
Yet I know a young rogue, that, thrown flat on
the field,

Would, as he lay under, cry out, Sirrah! yield.
So the French, when our Generals foundly did
pay 'em,
[Deum.
Went triumphant to church, and fang ftoutly Te
So the famous Tom Leigh, when quite run aground,
Comes off by out-laughing the company round.
In every vile pamphlet you'll read the fame fancies,
Having thus overthrown all our further advances.
My offers of peace you ill understood: [good?
Friend Sheridan, when will you know your own
"Twas to teach you in modefter language your
duty;

For, were you a dog, I could not be rude t'ye;
As a good quiet foul, who no mifchief intends,
To a quarrelfome fellow, cries, Let us be friends.
But we like Antæus and Hercules fight;
The oftener you fall, the oftener you write :
And I'll ufe you as he did that overgrown clown,
I'll firft take you up, and then take you down :
And, 'tis your own cafe, for you never can wound
The wort dunce in your school, till he's heav'd
from the ground.

• Which was afterwards the subject of several poems by Dr. Srift and others.

+ The bumeur of this poem is partly loft, by the impoffibility of printing it left-banded as it was written.