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Blind with the glorious blaze;-to vulgar fight
'Twas one bright mass of undistinguish'd light;
But, like the towering eagle, you alone
Difcern'd the fpots and fplendors of the fun.

To point out faults, yet never to offend;
To play the critic, yet preserve the friend;
A life well spent, that never loft a day;
An eafy fpirit, innocently gay;

A ftrict integrity, devoid of art;

The sweetest manners, and fincereft heart;
A foul, where depth of fenfe and fancy meet;
A judgment brighten'd by the beams of wit,
Were ever yours;-be what you were before,
Be ftill yourself; the world can afk no more.

A

IMITATION of SPENSER.

I.

Well-known vafe of fovereign 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 uses it in mantle brown or green;

Sometimes it stands array'd in gloffy white;
And eft in mighty dortours may be seen

Of China's fragile earth, with azure flowrets sheen.

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II.

The virgin, comely as the dewy rofe,
Here gently sheds the foftly-whispering 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 scanty water drains. III.

The dame of Fraunce shall without shame convey
This ready needment to its proper place;

Yet fhall 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 distant hillocks you may trace
The purple beamings of the infant morn:

Sweet are our blooming maids-the sweetest creatures

born.

IV.

'None but their husbands or their lovers true

They trust with management of their affairs;
Nor even these their privacy may view,
When the foft beavys seek the bower by pairs:
Then from the fight accoy'd, like timorous hares,
From mate or bellamour alike they fly;

Think not, good swain, that these are scornful airs, Think not for hate they fhun thine amorous eye, Soon fhall the fair return, nor done thee, youth, to dye. V. While

V.

While Belgic frows across a charcoal ftove (Replenish'd like the Veftal's lafting fire)

Bren for whole years, and fcorch the parts of love,
No longer parts that can delight infpire,
Erst cave of bliss, 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' myftic bower, Dan Cupid's feather'd seat.
VI.

So may your hours foft-fliding steal away,
Unknown to gnarring flander and to bale,
O'er feas of blifs peace guide her gondelay,
Ne bitter dole impeft the paffing gale.

O fweeter than the lilies of the dale,

In foft breasts the fruits of joyance grow. your

Ne fell despair be here with visage pale,

Brave be the youth from whom your bofoms glow, Ne other joy but you the faithful striplings know.

EPISTLE TO J. PITT, Esq.

In Imitation of HORACE, EPIST. IV. Book I.

DEAR SIR,

To

O all my trifles you attend,
But drop the critic to indulge the friend,
And with most chriftian patience lose your time,
To hear me preach, or pefter you with rhyme.

Here

Here with my books or friend I spend the day,
But how at Kingston pass your hours away?
Say, fhall we fee fome plan with ravish'd eyes,
Some future pile in miniature arise ?

(A model to excel in every part

Judicious Jones, or great Palladio's art)

Or fome new bill, that, when the house is met,
Shall claim their thanks, and pay the nation's debt?
Or have you study'd in the filent wood

The facred duties of the wife and good?
Nature, who form'd you, nobly crown'd the whole
With a strong body, and as firm a foul:
The praise is yours to finish every part
With all th' embellishments of taste and art.
Some fee in canker'd heaps their riches roll'd,
Your bounty gives new luftre to your gold.
Could your dead father hope a greater bliss,
Or your furviving parent more than this ?
Than fuch a fon a lover of the laws,

And ever true to honour's glorious cause :

Who fcorns all parties, though by parties fought:
Who greatly thinks, and truly fpeaks his thought:
With all the chafte feverity of fenfe,

Truth, judgment, wit, and manly eloquence.
So in his youth great Cato was rever'd,
By Pompey courted, and by Cæfar fear'd:
Both he difdain'd alike with godlike pride,
For Rome and Liberty he liv'd————and dy’d.
In each perfection as you rife so fast,
Well may you think each day may be your laft.

Uncom

Uncommon worth is ftill with fate at ftrife,
Still inconfiftent with a length of life.
The future time is ever in your power,

Then 'tis clear gain to seize the prefent hour;
Break from the ferious thought, and laugh away
In Pimpern walls one idle easy day.

You'll find your rhyming kinsman well in case,
For ever fix'd to the delicious place.

Tho' not like L-with corpulence o'ergrown,
For he has twenty cures, and I but one.

EPISTLE to MR. SPENCE.

Ín Imitation of HORACE, EPIST. X. BOOK I.

TEALTH from the bard who loves the rural fport,

HE

To the more noble bard that haunts the court: In every other point of life we chime,

Like two foft lines when coupled into rhyme.
I praise a spacious villa to the fky,

You a close garret full five ftories high;
I revel here in Nature's varied fweets,
You in the nobler fcents of London ftreets.
I left the court, and here at ease reclin'd,
Am happier than the king who ftaid behind:
Twelve ftifling dishes I could scarce live o'er,
At home I dine with luxury on four.
Where would a man of judgment chufe a feat,
But in a wholesome, rural, soft retreat?
Where hills adorn the manfion they defend?
Where could he better answer Nature's end?

Here

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