SONG.

BY CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET

DORINDA's fparkling wit and eyes,

United, caft too fierce a light, Which blazes high, but quickly dies; Pains not the heart, but hurts the fight;

Love is a calmer, gentler joy,

Smooth are his looks, and foft his

pace;

Her Cupid is a black-guard boy,
That runs his link full in your face.

Born 1657; dyed 1706.

WRITTEN AT ALTHROP, IN A BLANK LEAF OF WALLER'S POEMS, UPON SEEING VANDYKE'S PICTURE OF THE

OLD LADY SUNDERLAND.

BY CHARLES MONTAGUE, EARL

OF HALIFAX.*

VANDYKE had colours, foftness, fire, and art,
When the fair Sunderland inflam'd his heart.
Waller had numbers, fancy, wit, and fire,
And Sachariffa was his fond defire.

Why then at Althrop feems her charms to faint, 5
In these sweet numbers, and that glowing paint?
This happy feat a fairer mistress warms;
This fhining offspring has eclips'd her charms:
The different beauties in one face we find;
Soft Amoret with bright' Sacharissa join'd.
As high as Nature reach'd, their art could foar;
But she ne'er made a finish'd piece before.

Born 1661; dyed 1715.

V. 10. brighteft.

10

HORACE, BOOK IV. ODE III. IMITATED.

BY FRANCIS ATTERBURY, BISHOP
OF ROCHESTER.*

TO HIS MUSE, BY WHOSE FAVOUR HE ACQUIRES IMMORTAL FAME.

HE, on whose birth the lyric queen
Of numbers fmil'd, fhall never grace
The Ifthmian gauntlet, nor be seen
First in the fam'd Olympic race:
He shall not, after toils of war,

And taming haughty monarchs pride,
With laurell'd brows, confpicuous far,
To Jove's Tarpeian temple ride.
But him the streams that warbling flow
Rich Tyber's flowery meads along,
And fhady groves (his haunts) fhall know
The master of th' Æolian fong.
The fons of Rome, majestic Rome!
Have fix'd me in the poets choir,
And, envy now, or dead or dumb,
Forbear to blame what they admire.

10

15

Goddess of the sweet-founding lute,

Which thy harmonious touch obeys, Who can't the finny race, tho' mute,

To cygnets dying accents raise; Thy gift it is, that all with ease

My new unrival'd honours own; That I ftill live, and living please, O goddess, is thy gift alone.

20

EPIGRAM,

WRITTEN ON A WHITE FAN BORROWED FROM MISS OSBORNE, AFTER

WARDS HIS WIFE.

BY THE SAME.

FLAVIA the leaft and slightest toy
Can, with refiftless art, employ:
This Fan, in meaner hands, would prove
An engine of fmall force in love;
Yet fhe, with graceful air and mien, 5

Not to be told, or fafely feen,

Directs its wanton motions fo,

That it wounds more than Cupid's bow:
Gives coolness to the matchlefs dame,
Το every other breast a flame.

I

A REPLY TO A COPY OF VERSES MADE IN IMITATION OF BOOK III. ODE II.

OF HORACE.

Anguftam, amice, pauperiem pati, &c.

AND SENT BY MR. TITLEY

TO THE AUTHOR.'

BY RICHARD BENTLEY, LL. D.*

WHO ftrives to mount Parnaffus' hill,
And thence poetick laurels bring,
Muft first acquire due force, and skill,
Muft fly with fwan's, or eagle's wing.

Who nature's treasures wou'd explore,
Her mysteries and arcana know,
Muft high, as lofty Newton, foar,
Muft ftoop, as delving Woodward, low.

Who ftudies ancient laws and rites,

5

Tongues, arts, and arms and history, 10 Muft drudge like Selden days and nights, And in the endless labour die.