To Mr. JOHN MOORE,

AUTHOR of the celebrated WORM-POWDER.

OW much, egregious Moore, are we

H Deceiv'd by fhews and forms!

Whate'er we think, whate'er we fee,
All Humankind are Worms.

Man is a very Worm by birth,
Vile, reptile, weak, and vain !
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.

That Woman is a Worm, we find
E'er fince our Grandame's evil;
She first convers'd with her own kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.

The learn'd themselves we Book-worms name,
The Blockhead is a Slow-worm ;
The Nymph whose tail is all on flame,

Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm :

The Fops are painted Butterflies,

That flutter for a day;

First from a Worm they take their rise,

And in a Worm decay.

The Flatterer an Earwig grows;

Thus Worms fuit all conditions;

Mifers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,

And Death-watches Physicians.

That

That Statesmen have the Worm, is feen

By all their winding play;

Their Confcience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.

Ah Moore! thy skill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rife,

If thou could't make the Courtier void
The Worm that never dies!

O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane,
Who fett'ft our entrails free;
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,
Since Worms fhall eat ev'n thee.

Our Fate thou only can'ft adjourn
Some few fhort years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn,
Who Maggots were before.

SONG

SONG, by a Perfon of Quality.

F

Written in the Year 1733.

I.

Luttering spread thy purple Pinions,
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;

I a Slave in thy Dominions;
Nature muft givé Way to Art.

II.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
See my weary Days confuming,
All beneath yon flowery Rocks.
III.

Thus the Cyprian Goddess weeping,
Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth:
Him the Boar, in Silence creeping,
Gor'd with unrelenting Tooth.

IV.

Cynthia, tune harmonious Numbers;
Fair Difcretion, string the Lyre;
Sooth my ever-waking Slumbers:
Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir.

V.

Gloomy Pluto, King of Terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine Chains,
Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors,
Watering foft Elyfian Plains.

VI..

Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's Brows,
Morpheus hovering o'er my Pillow,
Hear me pay my dying vows.

VII.

Melancholy fmooth Meander,
Swiftly purling in a Round,
On thy Margin Lovers wander,

With thy flowery Chaplets crown'd.

VIII.

Thus when Philomela drooping,
Softly feeks her filent Mate,

See the Bird of Juno stooping;
Melody refigns to Fate.

ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT.

I

Know the thing that's most uncommon;

(Envy be filent, and attend !)

I know a reasonable Woman,

Handsome and witty, yet a Friend.

Not warp'd by Paffion, aw'd by Rumour,

Not grave through Pride, nor gay through Folly,

An equal Mixture of Good-humour,

And fenfible foft Melancholy.

"Has she no faults then (Envy says) Sir ?”
Yes, she has one, I must aver:

When all the World confpires to praise her,

The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.

On

On his GROTTO at Twickenham,

COMPOSED OF

MARBLE, SPARS, GEMS, ORES, and MINERALS.

T

HOU who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent

wave

Shines a broad Mirrour through the fhadowy Cave;
Where lingering drops from mineral Roofs distil,
And pointed Crystals break the fparkling Rill,
Unpolish'd Gems no Ray on Pride bestow,
And latent Metals innocently glow:

5

Approach. Great NATURE ftudiously behold!
And eye the Mine without a wifh for Gold.
Approach: but awful! Lo! th' Ægerian Grott,
Where, nobly penfive, ST. JOHN fat and thought; 10
Where British fighs from dying WYNDHAM stole,
And the bright flame was shot through MARCHмOHT'S

Soul.

Let fuch, fuch only, tread this facred Floor,
Who dare to love their Country, and be poor.

VOL. II.

Aa

To