Calm ev'ry thought, infpirit ev'ry grace,
Glow in thy heart, and finile upon thy face.
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear,
Till death, unfelt, that tender frame destroy,
In fome foft dream, or ecftacy of joy,
Peaceful fleep out the fabbath of the tomb,
And wake to raptures in a life to come.
EPISTLE VIII.
To Mr. Thomas Southern, on his Birth-day, 1742.
ESIGN'D to live, prepar'd to die,
With not one fin but poetry,
This day Tom's fair account has run
(Without a blot) to eighty-one.
Kind Boyle, before his poet, lays
A table with a cloth of bays;
And Ireland, mother of fweet fingers,
Prefents her harp ftill to his fingers.
The feaft his tow'ring genius marks
In yonder wild-goofe and the larks!
The mushrooms fhew his wit was fudden!
And for his judgment, lo, a pudden!
Roast beef, tho' old, proclaims him stout,
And grace, altho' a bard devout.
May Tom, whom Heav'n fent down to raise
The price of prologues and of plays,
Be ev'ry birth-day more a winner,
Digeft his thirty-thoufandth dinner;
Walk to his grave without reproach,
And fcorn a rafcal and a coach.
THE BASSET TABLE.
AN ECLOGUE.
CARDELIA, SMILINDA, LOVET.
THE Baffet table spread, the tallier
Why ftays Smilinda in the dreifing-room?
Rife, penfive nymph! the tallier waits for you.
Smil. Ah, Madam! fince my Sharper is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpheu.
I faw him ftand behind Ombrelia's chair,
And whifper with that soft deluding air,
And thofe feign'd fighs which cheat the lift'ning fair.
Card. Is this the cause of your romantic trains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart fuftains;
As you by love, fo I by fortune croft ;
One, one bad deal three Septlevas have loft.
Smil. Is that the grief which you compare with mine? With ease the fmiles of Fortune I refign: Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone, Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone. Card. A lover loft is but a common care,
And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: The knave of clubs thrice loft; oh! who could guess This fatal ftroke, this unforeseen diftrefs?
Smil. See Betty Lovet! very à-propes,
She all the cares of love and play does know:
Dear Betty fhail th' important point decide;
Betty! who oft' the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, the thall fay who fuffers moft,
By cards' ill ufage, or by lovers loft.
Lov. Tell, tell your griefs, attentive will I stay, Tho' time is precious, and I want fome tea.
Card. Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, With fifty guineas (a great penn'worth) bought. See on the toothpick Mars and Cupid strive, And both the struggling figures feem alive.
Upon the bottom fhines the Queen's bright face
A myrtle foliage round the thimble-cafe.
Jove, Jove himself does on the fciffars fhine,
The metal and the workmanship divine-
Smil. This fnuff-box-once the pledge of Sharper's
When rival beauties for the prefent ftrove;
At Corticelli's he the raffle won;
Then firft his paffion was in public shown:
Hazardia blufh'd, and turn'd her head afide,
A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This fnuff-box-on the hinge fee brilliants shine,
This fnuff-box will I ftake the prize is mine,
Card. Alas! far leffer loffes than I bear
Have made a foldier figh, a lover swear.
And, oh! what makes the difappointment hard,
'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card,
In complaifance I took the queen he gave,
Tho' my own fecret wifh was for the knave:
The knave won Sonica, which I had chofe,
And the next pull my Septleva I lofe.
The cruel thought that ftabs me to the heart;
Smil. But, ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing fair,
By whofe vile arts this heavy grief I bear;
She, at whofe name I fhed thele ipiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms the wears.
An awkward thing when firft fhe came to town,
Her fhape unfashion'd, and her face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her fallow cheeks enlivining red;
I introduc'd her to the Park and plays,
And by my int'reft Cozens made her stays.
Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert, 65
She dares to steal my fav'rite lover's heart.
Card. Wretch that I was, how often have I swore When Winnall tally'd I would punt no more?
I know the bite, yet to my ruin run,
And fee the folly which I cannot fhun.
Smil. How many maids have Sharper's vows deHow many curs'd the moment they believ'd? [ceiv'd?
Yet his known falfehoods could no warning prove;
Ah! what is warning to a maid in love.
Card. But of what marble muit that breaft be form'd, To gaze on Baffet and remain unwarm'd? When kings, queens, knaves, are fet in decent rank, Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank, Guineas, half-guineas, all the fhining train, The winner's pleasure, and the lofer's pain, In bright confufion open rouleaus lie, They ftrike the foul, and glitter in the eye: Fir'd by the fight, all reason I disdain, My paffions rife, and will not bear the rein. Look upon Baffet, you who reason boast, And fee if reafon inuft not there be loft.
Smil. What more than marble muft that heart comCan hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows?
Then when he trembles! when his blushes rife !
When awful love feems melting in his eyes!
With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves,
He loves-I whisper to myself, He loves!
Such unfeign'd paffion in his looks appears,
I lofe all mem'ry of my former fears;
My panting heart confeffes all his charms,
Į yield at once, and fink into his arms.
Think of that moment you who prudence boast;
For fuch a moment prudence well were lost.
Card. At the Groom-porter's batter'd bullies play,
Some dukes at Marybone bowl time away;
But who the bowl or rattling dice compares
To Baffet's heav'nly joys and pleasing cares?
Smil. Soft Simplicetta dotes upon a beau;
Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show:
Their feveral graces in my Sharper meet,
Strong as the footman, as the mafter sweet.
Lov. Ceáfe your contention, which has been to long;
I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong.
Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
The equipage fhall grace Smilinda's fide;
The fnuff-box to Cardelia I decree.
Now leave complaining, and begin your tea.
VERBATIM FROM BOILEAU.
Un jour, dit un auteur, &c.
ONCE (fays an author, where I need not fay)
Two trav'llers found an oyster in their way:
Both fierce, both hungry, the difpute grew ftrong,
While, fcale in hand, Dame Juftice pafs'd along.
Before her each with clamour pleads the laws,
Explain'd the matter, and would win the caufe.
Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful right,
Takes, opens, fwallows it before their fight.
The cause of ftrife remov'd fo rarely well,
There take, (fays Justice,) take ye each a fhell.
We thrive at Westminster on fools like you :
'Twas a fat oyster-live in peace-Adieu.
Anfwer to the following Question of Mrs. Howe. WHAT is prud'ry?
Seen with wit and beauty feldom.
'Tis a fear that ftarts at fhadows;
'Tis (no, 'tis n't) like Mifs Meadows.
'Tis a virgin hard of feature,
Old, and void of all good nature;
Lean and fretful; would feem wife,
Yet plays the fool before the dies.
'Tis an ugly envious threw
That rails at dear Lepell and you.
Occafioned by fome Verfes of his Grace
the Duke of Buckingham.
MUSE, 'tis enough at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.
Let crowds of critics now my verse affail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers rail;
This more than pays whe years of thanklefs pain,
Time, health, and fortune, are not loft in vain.
Sheffield approves, confenting Phoebus bends,
And I and Malice from this hour are friends.
|