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IN beauty, or wit,

No mortal as yet

To queftion your empire has dar'd;

But men of difcerning

Have thought that in learning,

To yield to a lady was hard.


Impertinent schools,

With mufty dull rules,

Have reading to females deny'd:

So papifts refuse

The Bible to use,

Left flocks fhould be wife as their guide.


'Twas a woman at first,

(Indeed she was curst)

In knowledge that tafted delight,

* This panegyric on Lady Mary Wortley Montague might have been fupprefled by Mr. Pope, on account of her having fatirized him in her verfes to the imitator of Horace; which abufe he returned in the first Satire of the fecond book of Horace.

"From furious Sappho, scarce a milder fate,


"F-'d by her love, or libel'd by her hate."

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And fages agree

The laws fhould decree

To the first of poffeffors the right.


Then bravely, fair dame,
Refume the old claim,

Which to your whole fex does belong;
And let men receive,

From a fecond bright Eve,

The knowledge of right, and of wrong,


But if the firft Eve

Hard doom did receive,

When only one apple had she,

What a punishment new

Shall be found out for you,

Who tasting, have robb'd the whole tree?


The FOURTH EPISTLE of the FIRST. Book of


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What schemes of politics, or laws,
In Gallic lands the patriot draws!
Is then a greater work in hand,
Than all the tomes of Haines's band?
"Or fhoots he folly as it flies?
"Or catches manners as they rise ? ‡
Or, urg'd by unquench'd native heat,
Does St. John Greenwich fports repeat?
Where (emulous of Chartres' fame)
Ev'n Chartres' felf is fcarce a name..



*This fatire on Lord Bolingbroke, and the praise bestowed on him in a letter to Mr. Richardson, where Mr. Pope says,

"The fons fhall blush their fathers were his foes;" being fo contradictory, probably occafioned the former to be fuppreffed. S.


Albi, noftrorum fermonum candide judex,
Quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedana?
Scribere, quod Caffi Parmenfis opufcula vincat ?

The lines here quoted occur in the "Effay on Man.”

§ An tacitam filvas inter reptare falubres?

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To you (th' all-envy'd gift of Heaven)
Th' indulgent gods, unafk'd, have given
A form complete in every part,
And, to enjoy that gift, the art.

+ What could a tender mother's care
Wish better, to her favourite heir,
Than wit, and fame, and lucky hours,
A ftock of health, and golden fhowers,
And graceful Huency of speech,
Precepts before unknown to teach?

Amidst thy various ebbs of fear,
And gleaming hope, and black defpair;
Yet let thy friend this truth impart;
A truth I tell with bleeding heart,
(In justice for your labours paft)
That every day shall be your last;
That every hour you life renew
Is to your injur'd country due.

In fpight of fears, of mercy spight,
My genius ftill muft rail, and write.

Di tibi formam

Di tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi.

Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno,
Quam fapere, et fari poflet quæ fentiat, et cui
Gratia, fama, valetudo contingat abunde,

non deficiente crumena?

Inter fpem, curamque, timores inter et iras.
§ Omnem crede diem tibi diluxiffe fupremum.
Me pinguem, et nitidum bene curata cute vifes,
Cum ridere voles Epicuri de grege porcum.






Hafte to thy Twickenham's fafe retreat,
And mingle with the grumbling great:

'There, half devour'd by fpleen, you 'll find The rhyming bubbler of mankind;


There (objects of our mutual hate)
We'll ridicule both church and state...


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