What fempftress has not prov'd thy fciffars good? From hence first came th' intriguing ridinghood. Amid three boarding-fchools well-ftock'd with miffes,

O'er the

Shall three knights-errant starve for want of kisses? ·
green turf the miles flide swift away,
And Blandford ends the labours of the day.
The morning rofe; the fupper-reck'ning paid
And our due fees difcharg'd to man and maid,
The ready hoftler near the stirrup stands,
And as we mount, our half-pence load his hands.
Now the fleep hill fair Dorchester o'erlooks,
Border'd by meads, and wash'd by filver brooks.
Here fleep my two companions eyes supprest,
And propt in elbow-chairs they fnoring rest ;
I wakeful fit, and with my pencil trace
Their painful postures, and their eyeless face;
Then dedicate each glass to fome fair name,
And on the fash the di'mond fcrauls my flame.
Now o'er true Roman way our horfes found,
Gravius would kneel, and kifs the facred ground.

There are three boarding-schools in this town.

On either fide low fertile valleys lie, w
The diftant profpects tire the trav'ling eye.
Through Bridport's ftony lanes our rout we take,
And the proud steep defcend to Morcombe's lake.
As hearfes pafs'd, our landlord robb'd the pall,
And with the mournful fcutcheon hung his hall.
On unadult'rate wine we here regale,

And ftrip the lobster of his fcarlet mail.

We climb'd the hills, when ftarry night arose,
And Axminster affords a kind repose.
The maid, fubdu'd by fees, her trunk unlocks,
And gives the cleanly aid of dowlas.fmocks.
Mean time our fhirts her bufy fingers rub,
While the soap lathers o'er the foaming tub.
If women's geer such pleasing dreams incite,
Lend us your fmocks, ye damfels, ev'ry night!
We rife; our beards demand the barber's art;
A female enters, and performs the part,
The weighty golden chain adorns her neck,
And three gold rings her skilful hand bedeck;
Smooth o'er our chin her eafy fingers move,

Soft as when Venus ftroak'd the beard of Jave

Now from the fteep, 'midft fcatter'd cotts and groves, Our eye thro' Honiton's fair valley roves. F5

Behind

Behind us foon the bafy town we leave,

Where finest lace induftrious laffes weave.

Now fwelling clouds roll'd on; the rainy load
Stream'd down our hats, and smoak'd along the road:
When (O bleft fight!) a friendly fign we spy'd, ・
Our spurs are flacken'd from the horfes fide;
For fure a civil hoft the house commands,
Upon whofe fign this courteous motto stands :
This is the ancient hand, and eke the pen,
Here is for horfes hay, and meat for men.

How rhyme would flourish, did each fon of fame
Know his own genius, and direct his flame!
Then he, that could not epic flights rehearse,
Might sweetly mourn in elegiac verse.

But were his mufe for elegy unfit,

Perhaps a diftich might not ftraîn his wit;

If epigram offend, his harmlefs lines

Might in gold letters fwing on ale-house figns.
Then Hobbinol might propagate his bays,

And Tuttle-fields record his fimple lays

Where rhymes like these might lure the nurfes eyes,
While gaping infants fquaul for farthing pies.
Treat here, ye shepherds blithe, your damfels fweet,
For pies and cheesecakes are for damfels meet ;

Then

Then Maurus in his proper sphere might shine,

And these proud numbers grace great William's fign; *This is the man, this the Naffovian, whom

I nam'd the brave deliverer to come.

But now the driving gales fufpend the rain,
We mount our steeds, and Devon's city gain.
Hail, happy native land! But I forbear,
What other countries muft with envy hear.

Prince Arthur, Book 5.

F 6

:

EPI

EPITAPH on the MONUMENT of the Marquis of Winchelsea.

H

By Mr. DRYDEN.

E who in impious times undaunted stood,

And midft rebellion durft be just and good;
Whose arms afferted, and whose suff'rings more
Confirm'd the cause for which he fought before;
Refts here rewarded by an heavenly prince,
For what his earthly could not recompenfe.
Pray (reader) that fuch times no more appear,
Or if they happen, learn true honour here.
Ark of thy age's faith and loyalty,

Which (to preserve them) heaven confin'd in thee:
Few fubjects could a king like thine deserve,
And fewer fuch a king fo well could ferve.
Bleft king, bleft subject, whose exalted state
By fufferings rofe, and gave the law to fate.
Such fouls are rare; but mighty patterns giv'n
To earth, were meant for ornaments to heav'n.

EPL