For fure my Pollio and Mæcenas
Were as good statefmen, Mr. Dean, as
Either your Bolingbroke or Harley,
Though they made Lewis beg a parley :
And as for Mordaunt, your lov'd hero,
I'll match him with my Drufus Nero.
You'll boast perhaps your fav'rite Pope,
But Virgil is as good I hope.
I own indeed I can't get any
To equal Helfham and Delany;
Since, Athens brought forth Socrates,
A Grecian ifle Hippocrates;
Since, Tully liv'd before my time,
And Galen blefs'd another clime.
You'll plead perhaps to my request,
To be admitted as a guest,
Your hearing's bad but why fuch fears?
I speak to eyes, and not to ears;
And for that reason, wifely took
The form you fee me in, a book.
Attack'd, by flow-devouring moths,
By rage of barb'rous Huns and Goths:
By Bentley's notes, my deadlieft foes,
By Creech's rhimes and Dunfter's profe;
I found my boasted wit and fire
In their rude hands almost expire:
Yet ftill they but in vain affail'd,
For had their violence prevail'd,
And in a blast destroy'd my fame,
They would have partly miss'd their aim;
Since all my spirit in thy page
Defies the Vandals of this age.
'Tis yours to fave these small remains
From future pedants muddy brains,
And fix my long-uncertain fate,
You best know how,-which way?-translate.
VERSES written in a GARDEN.
EE how that pair of billing doves
With open murmurs own their loves;
And heedless of cenforious eyes,
Pursue their unpolluted joys:
No fears of future want molest
The downy quiet of their neft;
No int'reft join'd the happy pair,
Securely bleft in Nature's care,
While her dear dictates they pursue:
For conftancy is nature too.
Can all the doctrine of our schools,
Our maxims, our religious rules,
Can learning to our lives enfure
Virtue fo bright, or blifs fo pure?
The great Creator's happy ends,
Virtue and pleasure ever blends:
In vain the church and court have try'd
Th' united effence to divide
Alike they find their wild mistake,
The pedant prieft, and giddy rake.
An ANSWER to a LOVE-LETTER.
S it to me, this fad lamenting strain :
Are heaven's choiceft gifts beftow'd in vain?
A plenteous fortune, and a beauteous bride,
Your love rewarded, gratify'd your pride:
Without one fingle charm, but being new.
How vile is man! how I deteft their ways
Of artful falfhood, and defigning praife!
Taftelefs, an eafy happiness you flight,
Ruin your joy, and mifchief your delight.
Why should poor pug (the mimic of your kind)
Wear a rough chain, and be to box confin'd?
Some cup, perhaps, he breaks, or tears a fan,
While roves unpunish'd the destroyer, man.
Not bound by vows, and unrestrain'd by fhame,
In fport you break the heart, and rend the fame.
Not that your art can be fuccessful here,
Th' already plunder'd need no robber fear:
Nor fighs, nor charms, nor flatteries can move,
Too well fecur'd against a fecond love.
Once, and but once, that devil charm'd
To reafon deaf, to obfervation blind;
I idly hop'd (what cannot love persuade !)
My fondness equal'd, and my love repay'd;
Slow to diftruft, and willing to believe,
Long hush'd my doubts, and did myself deceive:
But oh! too foon this tale would ever last;
Sleep, fleep, my wrongs, and let me think 'em paft
For you, who mourn with counterfeited grief,
And ask fo boldly like a begging thief,
May foon some other nymph inflict the pain,
You know fo well with cruel art to feign.
Though long you sported have with Cupid's dart,
You may fee eyes, and you may feel a heart.
So the brifk wits, who ftop the evening coach,
Laugh at the fear that follows their approach;
With idle mirth, and haughty fcorn despise
The paffenger's pale cheek, and starîng eyes :
But feiz'd by Justice, find a fright no jest,
And all the terror doubled in their breast.
In Answer to a LADY who advifed
RETIREMENT.
OU little know the heart that you advife;
I view this various fcene with equal eyes:
In crowded courts I find myself alone,
And pay my worship to a nobler throne.
Long fince the value of this world I know,
Pity the madness, and despise the show.
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