XI.

With heighten'd grace in verdant ruft,
Each work of ancient art,

The temple, column, arch or buft
Their wonted charms impart.
XII.

All-glorious Rome, thro' martial toil,
Beneath each zone obey'd,

Shew'd every province, trophy, spoil,
On current gold difplay'd.
XIII.

Hence prodigals, that vainly spend,
Promote the great design;

And misers aid ambition's end,

Who treasure up the coin.

XIV.

The peafant finds in every clime

The fcientifick ore;

Whilft on the rich remains of time,

The learn'd with rapture pore.
XV.

Each fading stroke they now retrace,

Each legend dark unfold :

Then in hiftoric order place,

And copper vies with gold.

XVI.

Happy the fage! like you, my friend,
The evening of whofe days,

Heav'n grants in that fair vale to spend
Thames delighted trays.

XVII.

To medals there and books of taste
Those moments you confign,
Which barren minds ignobly wafte
On dogs, or cards, or wine.
XVIII.

Whilft I 'mid rocks and savage woods
Enjoy thefe golden dreams;

Where Avon winds to mix her floods
With Bladud's healing ftreams.

W

PANA CEA:

Or, The Grand RESTORATIVE.

By the Same.

ELCOME to Baia's ftreams, ye fons of fpleen, Who rove from fpa to fpa- -to fhift the feene. While round the fteaming fount you idly throng, Come, learn a wholfome fecret from my fong.

Ye fair, whofe rofes feel th' approaching froft, And drops fupply the place of fpirits loft:

Ye 'fquires, who rack'd with gouts, at heav'n repine; Condemn'd to water for excess in wine:

Ye portly cits, fo corpulent and full,

Who eat and drink 'till appetite grows dull:

a Claverton near Bath, 1750.

For

For whets and bitters then unftring the purse,
Whilst nature more oppreft grows worse and worse :
Dupes to the craft of pill-prefcribing leaches:
You nod or laugh at what the parfon preaches:
Hear then a rhyming quack,-who spurns your wealth,
And gratis gives a fure receipt for health.

No more thus vainly roam o'er fea and land,
When lo! a fovereign remedy at hand:

'Tis Temperance-ftale cant!-'Tis Fafting then;
Heav'n's antidote against the fins of men.
Foul luxury's the caufe of all your pain:

To scour th' obftructed glands, abstain! abstain!
Faft and take reft, ye candidates for fleep,
Who from high food tormenting vigils keep:
Fast and be fat-thou ftarveling in a gown:
Ye bloated, fast-'twill furely bring you down.
Ye nymphs that pine o'er chocolate and rolls,
Hence take fresh bloom, fresh vigour to your fouls.
Faft and fear not-you'll need no drop nor pill:
Hunger may ftarve, excefs is fure to kill.

The HEROINES, or Modern Memoirs,

By the Same.

N ancient times, fome hundred winters paft,

Ivanci Britim da mea, for confcience fake, were chafte,

If fome frail nymph, by youthful paffion fway'd,
From virtue's paths unhappily had ftray'd;
When banish'd reafon re-affum'd her place,
The confcious wretch bewail'd her foul difgrace;
Fled from the world, and pass'd her joyless years
In decent folitude and pious tears;

Veil'd in fome convent made her peace with heaven,
And almost hop'd-by Prudes to be forgiven.

Not fo of modern wh-res th' illuftrious 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 blush behold each nymph advance,
The luscious Heroine of her own romance.
Each harlot triumphs in her lofs of fame,
And boldly prints and publishes her fhame.

1751.

The

The PARTIN G.

By the Same.

Written fome Years after Marriage.

I.

THE rifing fun thro' all the grove

'Diffus'd a gladfome ray :

My Lucy fmil'd, and talk'd of love,
And every thing look'd gay.
II.

But oh! the fatal hour was come
That forc'd me from my dear:
My Lucy then thro' grief was dumb,
Or spoke but by a tear.
III.

Now far from her and blifs I roam,

All nature wears a change:
The azure sky feems wrapt in gloom,

And every place looks ftrange.
IV.

Those flow'ry fields, this verdant scene,
Yon larks that towering fing,

With fad contrast increase my spleen

And make me loath the spring.