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Drake round the world his sovereign'shonour spread, | Far from the common pitch, he shall arise, Through straits and gulphs immense her fame

convey'd;

Nor rests inquiry here; his curious eye Descries new constellations in the sky, In which vast space, ambitious mariners

With great designs, to dazzle Envy's eyes;
Search deep, to know of whiggish plots the source,
Their ever-turning schemes, and restless course.
Who shall hereafter British annals read,
But will reflect with wonder on this deed?

Might place their names on high, and choose their How artfully his conduct overcame

stars.

Raleigh, with hopes of new discoveries fir'd,
And all the depths of human wit inspir'd,
Rov'd o'er the western world in search of fame,
Adding fresh glory to Eliza's name;
Subdued new empires that will records be
Immortal of a queen's virginity 3.

"But think not, Albion, that thy sons decay,
Or that thy princes have less power to sway;
Whatever in Eliza's reign was seen,
With a redoubled vigour springs again:
Imperial Anna shall the seas controul,
And spread her naval laws from pole to pole;
Nor think her conduct or her counsels less,
In arts of war, or treaties for a peace;
In thrifty management of Britain's wealth,
Embezzled lately, or purloin'd by stealth.
No nation can fear want, or dread surprise,
Where Oxford's prudence Burleigh's loss supplies;
On him the public most securely leans,
To ease the burthen of the best of queens:
On him the merchants fix their longing eyes,
When war shall cease, and British commerce rise.
"Alcides' strength and Atlas' firmer mind
To narrow straights of Europe were confin'd.
The British sailors, from their royal change,
May find a nobler liberty to range.
Oxford shall be their pole-star to the south,
And there reward the efforts of their youth:
Whence, through his conduct, traffic shall increase,
Ev'n to those seas which take their name from
peace.

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"Peace is the sound must glad the Britons' ears: But see! the noble Bolingbroke appears; Gesture compos'd and looks serene declare Th' approaching issue of a doubtful war. Now my cerulean race, safe in the deep, Shall hear no cannons' roar disturb their sleep; But smoothest tides and the most halcyon gales Shall to their port direct Britannia's sails.

"Ye Tritons, sons of gods! 'tis my command, That you see Bolingbroke in safety land; Your concave shells for softest notes prepare, Whilst Echo shall repeat the gentlest air; The river-gods shall there your triumphs meet, And, in old Ocean mix'd, your hero greet; Thames shall stand wondering, Isis shall rejoice, And both in tuneful numbers raise their voice; The rapid Medway, and the fertile Trent, In swiftest streams, confess their true content; Avon and Severn shall in raptures join, And Fame convey them to the northern Tine. Tweed then no more the Britons shall divide, But peace and plenty flow on either side; Triumphs proclaim, and mirth and jovial feasts, And all the world invite for welcome guests." Faction, that through the land so fatal spread, No more shall dare to raise her Hydra's head; But all her votaries in silence mourn The happiness of Bolingbroke's return;

3 Alluding to the first settlement of Virginia. 4 The Pacific Ocean.

A stubborn race, and quench'd a raging flame;
Retriev'd the Britons from unruly Fate,
And overthrow the Phaëtons of state!
These wise exploits through Gallia's nation ran,
And fir'd their souls, to see the wond'rous man:
The aged counsellors, without surprise,
Found wit and prudence sparkling in his eyes;
Wisdom that was not gain'd in course of years,
Or reverence owing to his hoary hairs,
But struck by force of genius; such as drove
The goddess Pallas from the brain of Jove.
The youth of France, with pleasure, look'd to see
His graceful mien and beauteous symmetry:
The virgins ran, as to unusual show,
When he to Paris came, and Fontainbleau;
Viewing the blooming minister desir'd,

And still, the more they gaz'd, the more admir'd.
Nor did the court, that best true grandeur knows,
Their sentiments by lesser facts disclose,
By common pomp, or ceremonious train,
Seen heretofore, or to be seen again;
But they devis'd new honours, yet unknown,
Or paid to any subject of a crown.

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The Gallic king, in age and counsels wise, Sated with war, and weary of disguise, With open arms salutes the British peer, And gladly owns his prince and character. As Hermes from the throne of Jove descends, With grateful errand, to Heaven's choicest friends; As Iris from the bed of Juno flies, To bear her queen's commands through yielding Whilst o'er her wings fresh beams of glory flow, And blended colours paint her wondrous bow; So Bolingbroke appears in Louis' sight, With message heavenly; and, with equal light, Dispels all clouds of doubt, and fear of wars, And in his mistress' name for peace declares: Accents divine! which the great king receives With the same grace that mighty Anna gives.

Let others boast of blood, the spoil of foes, Rapine and murder, and of endless woes, Detested pomp! and trophies gain'd from far, With spangled ensigns, streaming in the air; Count how they made Bavarian subjects feel The rage of fire, and edge of harden'd steel; Fatal effects of foul insatiate pride; That deal their wounds alike on either side, No limits set to their ambitious ends; For who bounds them, no longer can be friends. By different methods Bolingbroke shall raise His growing honours and immortal praise.

He, fir'd with glory and the public good, Betwixt the people and their danger stood: Arm'd with convincing truths, he did appear; And all he said was sparkling, bright, and clear. The listening senate with attention heard, And some admir'd, while others trembling fear'd; Not from the tropes of formal eloquence, But Demosthenic strength and weight of sense, Such as fond Oxford to her son supplied, Design'd her own, as well as Britain's pride; Who, less beholden to the ancient strains, Might show a nobler blood in English veins;

Out-do whatever Homer sweetly sung
Of Nestor's counsels, or Ulysses' tongue.

Oh! all ye nymphs, whilst time and youth allow,
Prepare the rose and lily for his brow.
Much he has done, but still has more in view;
To Anna's interest and his country true.
More I could prophesy; but must refrain:
Such truths would make another mortal vain!

You know the captives she has made,
The torment of her chain:
Let her, let her be once betray'd,
Or rack her with disdain!
See tears flow from her piercing eyes,
She bends her knee divine;

Her tears, for Damon's sake, despise;
Let her kneel still, for mine.
Pursue thy conquest, charming youth,
Her haughty beauty vex,

Till trembling virgins learn this truth-
Men can revenge their sex!

TO THE

DUKE OF BEAUFORT1.

A PARAPHRASE ON NAUDÆUS'S ADDRESS TO
CARDINAL DE BAGNI.

THE time will come (if Fate shall please to give
This feeble thread of mine more space to live)
When I shall you and all your acts rehearse,
In a much loftier and more fluent verse;
To Ganges' banks, and China farther east,
To Carolina, and the distant west,
Your name shall fly, and every where be blest;
Through Spain and tracts of Lybian sands shall go
To Russian limits, and to Zembla's snow.
Then shall my eager Muse expand her wing,
Your love of justice and your goodness sing;
Your greatness, equal to the state you hold;
In counsel wise, in execution bold;

How there appears, in all that you dispense,
Beauty, good-nature, and the strength of sense.
These let the world admire.From you a smile
Is more than a reward of all my toil.

MISCELLANY POEMS.

SONG.

You say you love; repeat again,
Repeat th' amazing sound,
Repeat the ease of all my pain,
The cure of every wound,

What you to thousands have denied,
To me you freely give;
Whilst I in humble silence died,
Your mercy bids me live.

So upon Latmos' top each night,
Endymion sighing lay;

Gaz'd on the Moon's transcendent light,
Despair'd, and durst not pray.
But divine Cynthia saw his grief,
Th' effect of conquering charins:
Unask'd the goddess brings relief,
And falls into his arms.

THE LAST BILLET.

SEPTEMBER and November now were past,
When men in bonfires did their firing waste:
Yet still my monumental log did last :
To begging boys it was not made a prey
On the king's birth or coronation day.
Why with those oaks, under whose sacred shade
Charles was preserv'd, should any fire be made?
At last a frost, a dismal frost, there came,
Like that which made a market upon Thame:
Unruly company would then have made
Fire with this log, whilst thus its owner pray'd:
"Thou that art worship'd in Dodona's grove,
From all thy sacred trees fierce flames remove:
Preserve this groaning branch, O hear my prayer,
Spare me this one, this one poor billet spare;
That, having many fires and flames withstood,
Its ancient testimonial may last good,
In future times to prove, I once had wood!"

TO LAURA.

IN IMITATION OF PETRARCH.

Ar sight of murder'd Pompey's head
Cæsar forgets his sex and state,
And, whilst his generous tears are shed,
Wishes he had at least a milder fate.

At Absalom's untimely fall,

David with grief his conquest views: Nay, weeps for unrelenting Saul,

And in soft verse the mournful theme pursues.

The mightier Laura, from Love's darts secure,
Beholds the thousand deaths that I endure,
Each death made horrid with most cruel pain;
Yet no frail pity in her looks appears;
Her eyes betray no careless tears,

But persecute me still with anger and disdain.

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"Conquer'd, undone! "Tis strange that there should
In this confession pleasure ev'n to me.
With well-wrought terms my hold I strongly barr'd,
And rough distinctions were my surly guard.
Whilst I, sure of my cause, this strength possess;
A noble youth, advancing with address,
Led glittering Falsehood on with so much art,
That I soon felt sad omens in my heart.
Words with that grace," said I, "must needs per-
I find myself insensibly betray'd.
[suade;
Whilst he pursues his conquest, I retreat,
And by that name would palliate my defeat.
"But here methinks I do the prospect see
Of all those triumphs he prepares for me,
When Virtue or when Innocence opprest
Fly for sure refuge to his generous breast;
When with a noble mien his youth appears,
And gentle voice persuades the listening peers,
Judges shall wonder when he clears the laws,
Dispelling mists, which long have hid their cause:
Then, by his aid, aid that can never fail,

Ev'n I, though conquer'd now, shall sure prevail:
Thousands of wreaths to me he shall repay,
For that one laurel Errour wears to-day.".

A GENTLEMAN TO HIS WIFE.

WHEN your kind wishes first I sought, 'Twas in the dawn of youth:

I toasted you, for you I fought,

But never thought of truth.
You saw how still my fire increas'd;
I griev'd to be denied:

You said, "Till I to wander ceas'd,
You'd guard your heart with pride."
I, that once feign'd too many lies,
In height of passion swore,

By you and other deities,

That I would range no more.

I've sworn, and therefore now am fix'd,
No longer false and vain:

My passion is with honour mix'd,
And both shall ever reign.

I'll search Heaven, Earth, Hell, seas, and air, And that shall set me free:

Oh, Laura's image will be there

Where Laura will not be.

My soul must still endure the pain,
And with fresh torment rave:
For none can ever break the chain
That once was Laura's slave.

THE SOLDIER'S WEDDING.

A SOLILOQUY BY NAN THRASHERWELL. Being part of a play called The New Troop. O My dear Thrasherwell, you're gone to sea, And happiness must ever banish'd be From our flock-bed, our garret, and from me! Perhaps he is on land at Portsmouth now In the embraces of some Hampshire sow, Who, with a wanton pat, cries, "Now, my dear, You're wishing for some Wapping doxy here.”— "Pox on them all! but most on bouncing Nan, With whom the torments of my life began: She is a bitter one!"-You lye, you rogue; You are a treacherous, false, ungrateful dog. Did not I take you up without a shirt? Woe worth the hand that scrubb'd off all your Did not my interest list you in the guard? And had not you ten shillings, my reward? Did I not then, before the serjeant's face, Treat Jack, Tom, Will, and Martin, with disgrace? And Thrasherwell before all others choose, When I had the whole regiment to louse? Curs'd be the day when you produc'd your sword, The just revenger of your injur'd word! The martial youth round in a circle stood, With envious looks of love, and itching blood: You, with some oaths that signified consent, Cried Tom is Nan's!" and o'er the sword you went.

[dirt!

Then I with some more modesty would step:
The ensign thump'd my bum, and made me leap.
I leap'd indeed; and you prevailing men
Leave us no power of leaping back again.

THE MAD LOVER.

I'LL from my breast tear fond desire,
Since Laura is not mine:
I'll strive to cure the amorous fire,
And quench the flame with wine.
Perhaps in groves and cooling shade
Soft slumbers I may find:

There all the vows to Laura made,
Shall vanish with the wind.

The speaking strings and charming song
My passion may remove:

Oh, music will the pain prolong,
And is the food of love.

THE OLD CHEESE.

YOUNG Slouch the farmer had a jolly wife,
That knew all the conveniences of life,
Whose diligence and cleanliness supplied
The wit which Nature had to him denied:
But then she had a tongue that would be heard,
And make a better man than Slouch afeard.
This made censorious persons of the town
Say, Slouch could hardly call his soul his own:
For, if he went abroad too much, she'd use
To give him slippers, and lock up his shoes.
Talking he lov'd, and ne'er was more afflicted
Than when he was disturb'd or contradicted:
Yet still into his story she would break
With, ""Tis not so-pray give me leave to speak."
His friends thought this was a tyrannic rule,
Not differing much from calling of him fool;
Told him, he must exert himself, and be
In fact the master of his family.

He said, "That the next Tuesday noon would | Jolt, thinking marriage was decreed by Fate,

show

Whether he were the lord at home, or no;
When their good company he would entreat
To well-brew'd ale, and clean, if homely, meat.”
With aching heart home to his wife he goes,
And on his knees does his rash act disclose,
And prays dear Sukey, that, one day at least,
He might appear as master of the feast. [see
"I'll grant your wish," cries she, "that you may
'Twere wisdom to be govern'd still by me."
The guests upon the day appointed came,
Each bowsy farmer with his simpering dame.
"Ho! Sue!" cries Slouch, why dost not thou

appear!

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Are these thy manners when aunt Snap is here?" "I pardon ask," says Sue; "I'd not offend Any ny dear invites, much less his friend." Slouch by his kinsman Gruffy had been taught To entertain his friends with finding fault, And make the main ingredient of his treat His saying, "There was nothing fit to eat: The boil'd pork stinks, the roast beef's not enough, The bacon's rusty, and the hens are tough; The veal's all rags, the butter's turn'd to oil; And thus I buy good meat for sluts to spoil. 'Tis we are the first Slouches ever sate Down to a pudding without plumbs or fat. What teeth or stomach's strong enough to feed Upon a goose my grannum kept to breed? Why must old pigeons, and they stale, be drest, When there's so many squab ones in the nest? This beer is sour; this musty, thick, and stale, And worse than any thing, except the ale."

Sue all this while many excuses made:
Some things she own'd; at other times she laid
The fault on chance, but oftener on the maid.
Then cheese was brought. Says Slouch, "This
e'en shall roll:

I'm sure 'tis hard enough to make a bowl:
This is skim-milk, and therefore it shall go;
And this, because 'tis Suffolk, follow too."
But now Sue's patience did begin to waste;
Nor longer could dissimulation last.
"Pray let me rise," says Sue, "my dear; I'll find
A cheese perhaps may be to lovy's mind."
Then in an entry, standing close, where he
Alone, and none of all his friends, might see;
And brandishing a cudgel he had felt,
And far enough on this occasion smelt;
"I'll try, my joy!" she cried, "if I can please
My dearest with a taste of his old cheese!"
Slouch turn'd his head, saw his wife's vigorous
Wielding her oaken sapling of command, [hand
Knew well the twang: "Is't the old cheese, my
dear?

No need, no need of cheese," cries Slouch: "I'll

swear,

I think I've din'd as well as my lord mayor !"

THE SKILLET.

Two neighbours, Clod and Jolt, would married be;
But did not in their choice of wives agree.
Clod thought a cuckold was a monstrous beast,
With two huge glaring eyes and spreading crest:
Therefore, resolving never to be such,
Married a wife none but himself could touch.

297

Which shows us whom to love, and whom to hate,
To a young, handsome, jolly lass, made court,
And gave his friends convincing reasons for't,
That, since in life such mischief must he had,
Beauty had something still that was not bad.
Within two months, Fortune was pleas'd to send
A tinker to Clod's house, with "Brass to mend."
The good old wife survey'd the brawny spark,
And found his chine was large, though counte-

nance dark.

First she appears in all her airs, then tries
The squinting efforts of her amorous eyes.
Much time was spent, and much desire exprest:
At last the tinker cried, "Few words are best:
Give me that skillet then; and, if I'm true,

I dearly earn it for the work I do."
They 'greed; they parted. On the tinker goes,
With the same stroke of pan, and twang of nose,
Till he at Jolt's beheld a sprightly dame
That set his native vigour all on flame.
He looks, sighs, faints, at last begins to cry,
"And can you then let a young tinker die?"
Says she, "Give me your skillet then, and try."
"My skillet! Both my heart and skillet take;
I wish it were a copper for your sake."

After all this, not many days did pass,
Clod, sitting at Jolt's house, survey'd the brass
And glittering pewter standing on the shelf;
Then, after some gruff muttering with himself,
Cried, "
Pr'ythee, Jolt, how came that skillet
thine?"

"You know as well as I," quoth Jolt; "t'en't mine; But I'll ask Nan." [matter

'Twas done; Nan told the In truth as 'twas; then cried, "You've got the better:

For, tell me, dearest, whether you would chuse
To be a gainer by me, or to lose.

As for our neighbour Clod, this I dare say,
We've beauty and a skillet more than they."

THE FISHERMAN.

TOM BANKS by native industry was taught
The various arts how fishes might be caught.
Sometimes with trembling reed and single hair,
And bait conceal'd, he'd for their death prepare,
With melancholy thoughts and downcast eyes,
Expecting till deceit had gain'd its prize.
Sometimes in rivulet quick, and water clear,
They'd meet a fate more generous from his spear.
To basket oft he'd pliant oziers turn,
Where they might entrance find, but no return.
H's net well pois'd with lead he'd sometimes throw,
Encircling thus his captives all below.
But, when he would a quick destruction make,
And from afar much larger booty take,
He'd through the stream, where most descending,
From side to side his strong capacious net;
And then his rustic crew with mighty poles
Would drive his prey out from their oozy holes,
And so pursue them down the rolling flood,
Gasping for breath, and almost choak'd with mud,
Till they, of farther passage quite bereft,
Were in the mash with gills entangled left.

[set

Trot, who liv'd down the stream, ne'er thought his beer

Was good, unless he had his water clear.

298

He goes to Banks, and thus begins his tale:
"Lord! if you knew but how the people rail!
They cannot boil, nor wash, nor rinse, they say,
With water sometimes ink, and sometimes whey,
According as you meet with mud or clay.
Besides, my wife these six months could not brew,
And now the blame of this all's laid on you:
For it will be a dismal thing to think
How we old Trots must live, and have no drink:
Therefore, I pray, some other method take
Of fishing, were it only for our sake."

Says Banks, "I'm sorry it should be my lot
Ever to disoblige my gossip Trot:

Yet 't'en't my fault; but so 'tis Fortune tries one,
To make his meat become his neighbour's poison;
And so we pray for winds upon this coast,
By which on t'other navies may be lost.
Therefore in patience rest, though I proceed:
There's no ill-nature in the case, but need.
Though for your use this water will not serve,
I'd rather you should choak, than I should starve."

A CASE OF CONSCIENCE.

OLD Paddy Scot, with none of the best faces,
Had a most knotty pate at solving cases;
In any point could tell you, to a hair,
When was a grain of honesty to spare.
It happen'd, after prayers, one certain night,
At home he had occasion for a light
To turn Socinus, Lessius, Escobar,
Fam'd Covarruvias, and the great Navarre :
And therefore, as he from the chapel came,
Extinguising a yellow taper's flame,
By which just now he had devoutly pray'd,
The useful remnant to his sleeve convey'd.
There happen'd a physician to be by,
Who thither came but only as a spy,
To find out others' faults, but let alone
Repentance for the crimes that were his own.
This doctor follow'd Paddy; said, "He lack'd
To know what made a sacrilegious fact."

Paddy with studied gravity replies, "That's as the place or as the matter lies: If from a place unsacred you should take A sacred thing, this sacrilege would make; Or an unsacred thing from sacred place, There would be nothing different in the case; But, if both thing and place should sacred be, "Twere height of sacrilege, as doctors all agree." "Then," says the doctor, "for more light in To put a special case, were not amiss. Suppose a man should take a Common Prayer Out of a chapel where there's some to spare ?" "A Common Prayer!" says Paddy, "that would be

A sacrilege of an intense degree."

[this,

"Suppose that one should in these holidays Take thence a bunch of rosemary or bays?"

"I'd not be too censorious in that case, But 'twould be sacrilege still from the place." "What if a man should from the chapel take A taper's end: should he a scruple make, If homeward to his chambers he should go, Whether 'twere theft, or sacrilege, or no?"

The sly insinuation was perceiv'd:
Says Paddy, "Doctor, you may be deceiv'd,
Unless in cases you distinguish right;
But this may be resolv'd at the first sight.

As to the taper, it could be no theft,
For it had done its duty, and was left:
And sacrilege in having it is none,
Because that in my sleeve I now have one."

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behold

Its radiant paint, and ornamental gold:
Wooden authority when thus I wield,
Persons of all degrees obedience yield.
Then, be you the best man in all the city,
Mark me! I to the Counter will commit ye."

[spare:

"You! kiss, and so forth. For that never If that be all, commit me if you dare; No person yet, either through fear or shame, Durst commit me, that once had heard my name.""Pray then, what is't?"-"My name's Adultery; And, faith, your future life would pleasant be, Did your wife know you once committed me."

LITTLE MOUTHS.

FROM London Paul the carrier coming down
To Wantage, meets a beauty of the town;
They both accost with salutation pretty,
As, "How do'st, Paul?"-" Thank you: aud
how do'st, Betty?"

Didst see our Jack, nor sister? No, you've seen, I warrant, none but those who saw the queen." "Many words spoke in jest," says Paul, "are

true,

I came from Windsor'; and, if some folks knew As much as I, it might be well for you."

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Lord, Paul! what is't?"-" Why give me something for't,

This kiss; and this. The matter then is short:
The parliament have made a proclamation,
Which will this week be sent all round the nation;
That maids with little mouths do all prepare
On Sunday next to come before the mayor,
And that all bachelors be likewise there :
For maids with little mouths shall, if they please,
From out of these young men choose two apiece."
Betty, with bridled chin, extends her face,
And then contracts her lips with simpering grace,
Cries, "Hem! pray what must all the huge ones do
For husbands, when we little mouths have two?"

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