A N

IMITATION of SPENSER.

A

I.

Well known Vase of fovraign Ufe I fing,

Pleafing to Young and Old, and Jordan hight. The lovely Queen, and eke the haughty King Snatch up this Veffel in the murky Night: Ne lives there poor, ne lives there wealthy Wight, But ufes it in mantle brown or green; Sometimes it ftands array'd in gloffy white; And eft in mighty Dortours may be seen Of China's fragile earth, with azure Flowrets sheen.

II.

The Virgin comely as the dewy Rose,

Here gently sheds the foftly-whifp'ring Rill;
The Frannion, who ne Shame ne Blushing knows,
At once the Potter's gloffy Vafe does fill ;
It whizzes like the Waters from a Mill,

Here frouzy Housewives clear their loaded Reins; The Beef-fed Juftice, who fat Ale doth fwill, Grafps the round-handled Jar, and tries, and strains, While flowly dribbling down the fcanty Water drains.

The

III.

The Dame of Fraunce shall without Shame convey
This ready Needment to its proper Place;
Yet shall the Daughters of the Lond of Fay
Learn better Amenaunce and decent Grace;
Warm Blushes lend a Beauty to their Face,

For Virtue's comely Tints their Cheeks adorn;

Thus o'er the diftant Hillocks you may trace

The purple Beamings of the infant Morn:

Sweet are our blooming Maids

the fweeteft Crea

tures born.

IV.

None but their Hufbands or their Lovers true They trust with Management of their Affairs ; Nor even these their Privacy may view, When the foft Beavies feek the Bow'r by Pairs : Then from the Sight accoy'd, like tim❜rous Hares, From Mate or Bellamour alike they fly; Think not, good Swain, that these are scornful Airs, Think not for Hate they fhun thine am'rous Eye, Soon fhall the Fair Return, nor done thee, Youth, to

V.

While Belgic frows across a Charcoal Stove

(Replenish'd like the Vestal's lafting Fire)

(dye.

Bren for whole Years, and fcorch the Parts of Love,

No longer Parts that can delight infpire,

Erft

Erft Cave of Blifs, now monumental Pyre;
O British Maid, for ever clean and neat,
For whom I aye will wake my fimple Lyre,
With double Care preserve that Dun Retreat,

Fair Venus' mystic Bow'r, Dan Cupid's feather'd Seat.
VI.

So may your Hours foft-fliding steal away,
Unknown to gnarring Slander and to Bale,
O'er Seas of blifs Peace guide her Gondelay,
Ne bitter Dole impeft the paffing Gale.
O! fweeter than the Lillies of the Dale,

your

In foft Breasts the Fruits of Joyance grow.
Ne fell Despair be here with Vifage pale,

Brave be the Youth from whom your Bofoms glow, Ne other Joy but you the faithful Striplings know.

An

An Excellent

W1

BALL A D.

To the Tune of Chevy-Chace.

Hilome there dwelt near Buckingham,
That famous Country Town,

At a known Place, hight Whaddon Chace,
A Squire of odd Renown.

A Druid's facred Form he bore,
His Robes a Girdle bound:
Deep vers'd he was in antient Lore,
În Cuftoms old, profound.

A Stick torn from that hallow'd Tree,
Where Chaucer us'd to fit,

And tell his Tales with leering Glee,
Supports his tott'ring Feet.

High on a Hill his Manfion ftood,

But gloomy dark within;

Here mangled Books, as Bones and Blood
Lie in a Giant's Den.

Crude, undigested, half-devour'd,

On groaning Shelves they're thrown ; Such Manufcripts no Eye could read,

Nor Hand write-but his own.

No

No Prophet He, like Sydrophel,
Could future Times explore;
But what had happened, he could tell,
Five hundred Years and more.

A walking Alm'nack he appears,
Stept from fome mouldy Wall,
Worn out of Use thro' Duft and Years,
Like Scutcheons in his Hall.

His Boots were made of that Cow's Hide,
By Guy of Warwick flain;
Time's choiceft Gifts, aye to abide
Among the chofen Train.

Who firft receiv'd the precious Boon,
We're at a Lofs to learn,

By Spelman, Cambden, Dugdale, worn,
And then they came to Hearne.

Hearne, ftrutted in them for a while;
And then, as lawful Heir,

Brown claim'd and feiz'd the precious Spoil,
The Spoil of many a Year.

His Car himself he did provide,

To ftand in double Stead; That it fhould carry him alive, And bury him when dead.

By