Now hear what Bleffings Temperance can bring:
(Thus faid our Friend, and what he faid I fing)
Firft Health: The Stomach (cramm'd from ev'ry
ATomb of boil'd, andreaft, and Flefh, and Fish, [Difh,
Where Bile, and Wind, and Phlegm, and acid Jar,
And all the Man is one inteftine War)

Remembers oft the School-boy's fimple Fare,
The temp'rate Sleeps, and Spirits light as Air.
How pale each worshipful and rev'rend Guest
Rife from a Clergy, or a City, Feast!
What Life in all that ample Body, fay,
What heav'nly Particle infpires the Clay?
The Soul fubfides, and wickedly inclines
To feem but mortal, ev'n in found Divines.

Then speaking of the Boaft of prodigious Wealth, our Author again darts his Satire at the Family of our greatest and most successful Soldier and General of the Age, not excepting Prince Eugene:

Oh Impudence of Wealth! with all thy Store, How darft thou let one worthy Man be poor? Shall half the new-built Churches round thee fall? Make Keys, build Bridges, or repair Whitehall; Or to thy Country let that Heap be lent, As Mo's was, but not at Five per Cent.

Thefe Words he puts into the Mouth of Mr. Bethel, a Gentleman of fingular Probity, Temperance, Humility, and Good-nature. After this Mr. Pope describes his own Manner of Living, and concludes, that Fortune, if fhe leaves but a little, a prudent Man will make the most of it, and be content:

Fortune not much of humbling me can boaft; Though double-tax'd, how little have I loft?

My

My Life's Amusements have been just the same,
Before, and after Standing Armies came.
My Lands are fold, my Father's House is gone
I'll hire another's: is not that my own ?

And yours, my Friends? thro' whose free opening None comes too early, none departs too late; [Gate (For I, who hold fage Homer's Rule the best, Welcome the coming, fpeed the going Guest.) "Pray Heav'n it laft! (cries Swift) as you go on; "I with to God this House had been your own: "Pity! to build, without a Son or Wife: "Why, you'll enjoy it only all your Life."— Well, if the Ufe be mine, can it concern one, Whether the Name belong to Pope or Vernon? Let Lands and Houses have what Lords they will, Let us be fix'd, and our own Masters still.

Of those two Satires which he has moderniz'd from Dr. Donne, we fhall only fay, that under that Cover he takes the Liberty to fay, what without the Doctor at his Back, he would not.

Dr. Donne is known to be a keen Satirift, and wants nothing of Mr. Pope but his Numbers-He meets at Court, whither he was accidentally driven, a threadbare Parfon seeking Preferment there, and affecting the Air of a Courtier already. This Scene, in the Doctors original Text, we have quoted in Italicks, and as altered by Mr. Pope, on the Page on the other Side, in Roman Characters, by which will appear the Conformity of their Sentiments, and how our Language is altered and refined fince Dr. Donne's Time, who was born in London in the Year 1573, descended from a very good Family in Wales, and had Parents capable of giving him the best Education, which they did; for at nine Years of Age he was fent to Hart-Hall in Oxford, having attain'd

befides

befides the Latin and Greek, a Knowledge in the French Tongue. Here he became acquainted with that great Master of Language and Art, Sir Henry Wotton, with whom he contracted a lasting Friendfhip From Oxford he was transplanted to the Univerfity of Cambridge, where he made great Improvements in his Literature. Coming from thence to London, he was entered of the Society of Lincoln'sInn, and applied himself to the Study of the Law, but even here, he chiefly employ'd his Time in accomplishing himself with the politer Kinds of Learning. He foon enjoy'd the beft Converfation in Town, to whom the Acuteness of his Wit, and the natural Gaiety of his Temper, foon render'd him highly acceptable: In which State of Life he compos'd most of his Love-Poems. His Father dying and leaving him a pretty handfome Fortune, he travelled into Italy, Spain and other foreign Countries, where he acquired a Perfection in thofe Languages, and returned home with many useful Observations. Being now qualified for the greatest Employments, he was made Secretary to the Lord Elsmere, Keeper of the Great Seal; in whose Service he became enamour'd with the Lady Elfmere's Neice, Daughter to Sir George Moor, Chancellor of the Garter, and Lieutenant of the Tower, who greatly oppofed this Match; yet notwithstanding they were privately married: Which exasperated Sir George to fuch a Degree, that he prevailed on the Lord Elfmere to difcharge him from his Service, and foon after caft him into Prifon. But Mr. Donne had not been long confined before he found Means, by the Affiftance of his Kinsman Sir Francis Woolley, to facilitate his Enlargement, and a Reconciliation between him and Sir George Moor enfuing, he was reftored to his former Post. Now he was fought after by Men of the

beft

best Learning more than ever, and his Company very much desired by the Nobility and foreign Embaffadors, who were extremely fond of his Acquaintance. At last, at King James's Requeft, he applied himself to the Study of Divinit, and entered into Holy Orders: Whereupon, his Majefty first made him Preacher of Lincoln's-Inn, and he was afterwards advanced to the Deanery of St. Paul's. He died the 31st of March, 1631, and was buried in St. Paul's Church with great Solemnity, attended by many Per fons of Quality.

Dr. King Bishop of Chichester, who was his Executor, erected a Monument to his Memory, with this Infcription.

JOHANNES DONNE, S. T. P.

Poft varia Studia, quibus ab Annis tenerrimis fideliter,
Nec infeliciter, incubuit.

Infinitu & impulfu Spiritus fancti, monitu & hortatu
Regis Jacobi Ordines Sacros Amplexus
Anno fui Jefu 1614. & fuæ tatis 42
Decanatu hujus Ecclefiæ, indutus 27. Novembris 1621.
Exutus morte ultimo die Martii 1631.
Hic, licet in Occiduo Cinere, afpicet Eum,
Cujus Nomen eft Oriens.

But we must not forget our promised Quotation: The Parfon that Dr. Donne met, had travell'd it seems, which was not an uncommon Thing then, and his Dress was not unlike that of a Scholar; his Cloaths were coarse, and black and bare, and his Jerkin had been Velvet, but now it was almoft rubb'd to Rash, and began to let the Air in, fo that in a very little Time it would not hang together, to be known what it originally was made of.

He

He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God
How have I finn'd, that thy Wraths furious Rod,
This Fellow, chufeth me! He faith, Sir,
I love your Judgment, whom do you prefer
For the beft Linguist? and I feelily
Said that I thought Calepines Dictionary.
Nay, but of Men moft fweet, Sir? Beza then,
Some Jefuits, and two reverend Men
Of our two Academies I named here
He ftopt me, and faid, Nay your Apoftles were
Good pretty Linguifts, fo Panurgus was;
Yet a poor Gentleman; all thefe may pafs
By Travail. Then, as if he would have fold
His Tongue, he prais'd it, and fuch Wonders told,
That I was fain to say, if you had liv'd, Sir,
Time enough to have been Interpreter

Ta Babels Bricklayers, fure the Tower had food.
He adds, if of Court Life you knew the good,
You would leave Loneness. I faid, not alone
My Loneness is; but Spartanes Fashion
To teach by painting Drunkards doth not last
Now, Aretines Pictures have made few chafte;
No more can Princes Courts, though there be few
Better Pictures of Vice, teach me Virtue.

He like to a high-ftretcht Lute-string squeakt, O Sir,
'Tis fweet to talk of Kings. At Westminster,
Said 1, the Man that keeps the Abby Tombs,
And for his Bribe, doth with whoever comes
Of all our Harrys, and our Edwards talk,
From King to King, and all their Kin can walk :
Your Ears fhall hear nought but Kings; your Eyes meet
Kings only: The Way to it is King-street.

He fmack'd, and cry'd, He's bafe, mechanique, courfe,
So're all your Englishmen in their Difcourfe.

Are