But can't our state of pow'r bereave
An endless series to receive;

Then, if hard dealt with here by fate,
We ballance in another state,
And confcioufnefs muft go along,

And fign th' acquittance for the wrong.
He for his creatures muft decree

More happiness than misery,
Or be fuppofed to create,
Curious to try, what 'tis to hate :
And do an act, which rage infers,
'Caufe lameness halts, or blindness errs.
Thus, thus I fteer my bark, and fail
On even keel with gentle gale;
At helm I make my reason fit,

My crew of paffions all fubmit.

If dark and bluft'ring prove fome nights,
Philofophy puts forth her lights;
Experience holds the cautious glass,
To fhun the breakers, as I pass,
And frequent throws the wary lead,
To fee what dangers may be hid :
And once in feven years I'm seen
At Bath or Tunbridge, to careen.
Tho' pleas'd to fee the dolphins play,
I mind my compafs and my way,
With ftore fufficient for relief,
And wifely still prepar❜d to reef,
VOL. I.

K

Nor

Nor wanting the difperfive bowl
Of cloudy weather in the foul,

I make (may heav'n propitious fend
Such wind and weather to the end)
Neither becalm'd, nor over-blown,
Life's voyage to the world unknown.

An E PIGRAM.

On the Reverend Mr. LAURENCE ECHARD's, and Bishop GILBERT BURNET's Hiftories.

By the Same.

IL's hiftory appears to me

GI

Political anatomy,

A case of skeletons well done,
And malefactors every one.
His sharp and strong incision pen
Hiftorically cuts up men,

And does with lucid fkill impart
Their inward ails of head and heart,
LAURENCE proceeds another way,
And well-drefs'd figures doth display :
His characters are all in flesh,

Their hands are fair, their faces fresh;

And

And from his sweet'ning art derive
A better scent than when alive.

He wax-work made to please the fons,
Whose fathers were GIL's skeletons.

The feather'd play-thing the carefs'd,
She ftroak'd its head and wings;
And while it neftled on her breast,
She lifp'd the dearest things.
III.

With chizzled bill a fpark ill fet

He loofen'd from the rest,

And fwallow'd down to grind his meat,

The easier to digeft.

IV.

She feiz'd his bill with wild affright,

Her diamond to descry :

'Twas gone! fhe ficken'd at the fight,

Moaning her bird would die.

The tongue-ty'd knocker none might use,
The curtains none undraw,

The footmen went without their shoes,

The street was laid with straw.

VI.

The doctor us'd his oily art

Of ftrong emetick kind,

The apothecary play'd his part,

And engineer'd behind.

VII.

When phyfic ceas'd to spend its ftore

To bring away the stone, Dicky, like people given o'er,

Picks up, when let alone.

VIII.

His eyes difpell'd their fickly dews,
He peck'd behind his wing;
Lucia recovering at the news,
Relapfes for the ring,

IX. Mean

IX.

Mean-while within her beauteous breast

Two different passions ftrove;

When av'rice ended the contest,
And triumph'd over love.

Drive av'rice from your breafts, ye fair,

Monster of fouleft mien :

Ye would not let it harbour there,

Could but its form be seen.