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With heightend grace in verdant ruft,

Each work of ancient art,
The temple, column, arch or buft
Their wonted charms impart.

All-glorious Rome, thro' martial toil,

Beneath each zone obey'd,
Shew'd every province, trophy, spoil,
On current gold display'd.

Hence prodigals, that vainly spend,

Promote the great design;
And misers aid ambition's end,
Who treasure up the coin,

XIV. The peasant finds in


The scientifick ore;
Whilft on the rich remains of time,
The learn'd with rapture pore.

Each fading stroke they now retrace,

Each legend dark unfold :
Then in historic order place,
And copper vies with gold.

Happy the fage! like you, my friend,

The evening of whose days,
Heav'n grants in that fair vale to spend

Shames delighted Atrays.

X 3


To medals there and books of taste

Those moments you consign,
Which barren minds ignobly waste
On dogs, or cards, or wine.

Whilft I ’mid rocks and savage woods

Enjoy these golden dreams;
? Where Avon winds to mix her foods

With Bladud's healing streams.

P A N A C E A:


By the Same.


ELCOME to Baiæ's streams, ye sons of spleen,
Who rove from spa to spa-

oto shift the feene. While round the steaming fount you idly throng, Come, learn a wholsome secret from my song.

Ye fair, whose roses feel th' approaching froft, And drops supply the place of spirits loft: Ye 'squires, who rack’d with gouts, at heav'n repine; Condemn'd to water for excess in wine : Ye portly cits, so corpulent and full, Who eat and drink 'till appetite grows

dull: a Claverton near ath, 1750.


For whets and bitters then unftring the purse,
Whilft nature more opprest grows worse and worse:
Dupes to the craft of pill-prescribing leaches :
You nod or laugh at what the parson preaches :
Hear then a rhyming quack,-who spurns your wealth,
And gratis gives a sure receipt for health,
No more thus vainly roam o'er sea and land,
When lo! a sovereign remedy at hand :
'Tis Temperance-stale cant!—'Tis Fafting then;
Heav'n's antidote against the sins of men.
Foul luxury's the cause of all your pain:
To scour th' obstructed glands, abstain ! abftain !
Fast and take rest, ye candidates for sleep,
Who from high food tormenting vigils keep :
Fast and be fat-thou starveling in a gown:
Ye bloated, faft'will surely bring you down.
Ye nymphs that pine o'er chocolate and rolls,
Hence take fresh bloom, fresh vigour to your souls.
Fast and fear not-you'll need no drop nor pill:
Hunger may starve, excess is sure to kill.

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If some frail nymph, by youthful passion fway'd,
From virtue's paths unhappily had ftray'd;
When banish'd reason re-assum'd her place,
The conscious wretch bewail'd her foul disgrace;
Fled froin the world, and pass'd her joyless years
In decent solitude and pious tears ;
Veil'd in some convent made her peace with heaven,
And almost hop'd-by Prudes to be forgiven.

Not so of modern wh-res th' illustrious train,
Renown'd Conftantia, P-ton and V-ne:
Grown old in fin, and dead to amorous joy,
No acts of penance their great fouls employ.

Without a bluih behold each nymph advance,
The luscious Heroine of her own romance.
Each harlot triumphs in her loss of fame,
And boldly prints and publishes her Name.





By the Same.

Written fome Years after Marriage.


HE rising fun thro' all the grove

'Diffus'd a gladsome ray:
My Lucy smil'd, and talk'd of love,
And every thing look'd gay.

But oh! the fatal hour was come
That forc'd me from my

My Lucy then thro' grief was dumb,
Or spoke but by a tear.

Now far from her and bliss I roam,

All nature wears a change :
The azure sky seems wrapt in gloom,
And every place looks ftrange.

Those flow'ry fields, this verdant scene,

Yon larks that towering fing,
With fad contrast increase my spleen

And make me loath the spring.

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