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Is shot to blast the impious One,
That dares attempt her Beauties Throne;
To keep the Lilly and the Rose
Secure from facrilegious Foes.
When Lightning flies, and Thunder rolls,
It terrifies the guilty Souls.
But Kings you say, scarce dare to frown,

And threat'ning Nods must shake a Crowis.
Tis true they must but can't you tell,
No Crown e'er shook, but Subje&s fell ?
You hold besides, extremely wise !
While Bow stands bent, no Arrow Alics.


As wisely say who can contest
With Pistol cock'd against his Breast?
Much less can he who sees Eye-Darts

In CUPID'S Bow bent at his Heart.


on may the Bow now bent, unbends
And Death its Emissary send ;
And e'er the twanging String has founded,
The Arrow's flown, and he is wounded.


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Nor Shields of Brass, nor Coats of Buff,
Can stop this Dart, tho' Pistol-Proof.
Your CÆSAR, and your Philip's Son,
By Force their mighty Scepters won.
Maintain d'their Pow'r by threat’ning Nods,
While tremb'ling Nations own'd them Gods.

A Recantation of FLIRTILLA, in Imi

tation of the fixteenth ODE of the first Book of Horace.

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With half such Fury are inspired,

As a despairing Breast.

3. .
It fears nót Daggers, Seas or Fate j

Nor yet Almighty Jove,
With Thunder, can its Rage abate,

Nor Light’ning from above.


But like the Tide's impetuous Force,

Refiftless pushes on ;
Nor Hills, nor Mountains stop its Course,

It bears the Mounds along.

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By Anger mighty Cities fall,

By Rage Thyestes fell.


Forgive then, injured Fair, forgive;

FLIR TILL A ne'er was mine ; There's None so stupid to believe,

That we cou'd you design.


But if we did, 'twas fierce Desire,

That urged our Muse before ; Now


with gentler Flames inspire,

Our Muses rage no more,

From Buchanan.


HO says that CORINNA fells every

[Thing, lies; For her Face, that sells you her Et-Cæt'ra,

[the buys.

On CORINNA, imitated from Buchanan. U oft, CORINNA, ask me if you're

[fair ? But won't believe me neither 'till I swear.

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May I ne'er - Leda win, or Helen gain,
If she or Leda cou'd your Pow'r attain jika
Poth Gods and Men lov'd them, but yet they had
Their Senses still:- Who loves Corinna's mad.


Occafioned by seeing some Verfes on CELIA,

wrote on a Pane of Glafs,
ELL halt thou drawn, fond Youth, in

[prop'rest Place, The short-liv'd Beauties of false CELIA'S

[Face. When Words' Obscurities thy Sense o'erdhade, The Place gives Light to what thou wou'd'It have said. Bright as This Lucid Glass, her Eyes now seem, Like This, breath'd on, by fell Disease, grow dim. Like Glass in ev'ry strongest Vow she makes, Brittle as That, as easily she breaks ;. Such is her Honour:--Short her Fame we find,

Which crack'd, must perilh by the first High Wind.

E Græco

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