Not fordid fouls of earthy mould So two rich mountains of Peru May rush to wealthy marriage too, Not the mad tribe that hell infpires On Ætna's top let Furies wed, Nor the dull pairs whofe marble forms Logs of green wood that quench the coals With ofiers for their bands. Not minds of melancholy ftrain, Nor can the foft enchantments hold The The rugged and the keen: Samfon's young foxes might as well Nor let the cruel fetters bind Two kindeft fouls alone must meet, Bright Venus on her rolling throne To DAVID POL HILL, Esq. AN EPISTLE. LET ufeler's fouls to woods retreat; Polhill fhould leave a country feat When virtue bids him dare be great. Dec. 1702 Nor Kent*, nor Suffex*, fhould have charms, Calls you to counfels and to arms. His country-feat and dwelling. Lewis, Lewis, by fawning flaves ador'd, fword! Factions amongst the † Britons rise, A vote decides the blind debate ; *The Pretender, proclaim'd King in France. The parliament. The bill against occafional conformity, 1702. Mrs. Polhill of the family of Lord Trevor. Mr. Polhill was one of those five zealous gentlemen who prefented the famous Kentish petition to the parliament, in the reign of King William, to haften their fupplies in order to fupport the King in his war with France. The The celebrated Victory of the POLES Over OSMAN the TURKISH EMPEROR in the Dacian Battle. Tranflated from Cafimire, B. IV. Od. 4. with large Additions. GADOR the old, the wealthy, and the strong, Chearful in years (nor of the heroic Muse Unknowing, nor unknown) held fair poffeffions Where flows the fruitful Danube: Seventy fprings Smil'd on his feed, and seventy harvest-moons Fill'd his wide granaries with autumnal joy : Still he refum'd the toil: and fame reports, While he broke up new ground, and tir'd his plough In graffy furrows, the torn earth disclos'd Helmets, and fwords (bright furniture of war Sleeping in ruft) and heaps of mighty bones. The fun defcending to the western deep Bid him lie down and reft; he loos'd the yoke, Yet held his wearied oxen from their food With charming numbers, and uncommon fong. Go, fellow-labourers, you may rove secure, Or feed befide me; taste the greens and boughs That you have long forgot; crop the sweet herb, And graze in fafety, while the victor Pole Leans on his fpear, and breathes; yet ftill his eye Jealous Jealous and fierce. How large, old foldier, fay, Led on to conqueft: Here the Turkish chief O the dire image of the bloody fight The storm of miffive steel delay'd a while Had bellow'd from each quarter of the field Loud |