Shew'd her the virtues all combin'd,
Fresh blooming, in young Harley's mind.
Terreftrial nymphs, by former arts,
Display their various nets for hearts :
Their looks are all by method fet,
When to be prude, and when coquette;
Yet, wanting skill and power to chuse,
Their only pride is to refuse.
But, when a goddess would bestow
Her love on fome bright youth below,
Round all the earth she cafts her eyes;
And then, defcending from the skies,
Makes choice of him she fancies best,
And bids the ravish'd youth be bless'd.
Thus the bright Empress of the Morn
Chofe, for her spouse, a mortal born :
The Goddess made advances first;
Else what afpiring hero durft ?
Though, like a virgin of fifteen,
She blushes when by mortals feen;
Still blushes, and with speed retires,
When Sol pursues her with his fires.
Diana thus, Heaven's chastest queen, Struck with Endymion's graceful mien, Down from her filver chariot came, And to the Shepherd own'd her flame.
Thus Ca'endish, as Aurora bright,
And chaster than the Queen of Night,
Defcended from her sphere to find
A mortal of superior kind.
SICKNESS.
Written in IRELAND, October 1714.
then why should I repine
To fee my life fo fast decline ?
But why obfcurely here alone,
Where I am neither lov'd nor known?
My state of health none care to learn ;
My life is here no foul's concern :
And those with whom I now converse
Without a tear will tend my hearse.
Remov'd from kind Arbuthnot's aid,
Who knows his art, but not his trade,
Preferring his regard for me
Before his credit, or his fee.
Some formal vifits, looks, and words,
What mere humanity affords,
I meet perhaps from three or four,
From whom I once expected more ;
Which those who tend the fick for pay
Can act as decently as they :
But no obliging tender friend
To help at my approaching end.
My life is now a burden grown
To others, ere it be my own.
Ye formal weepers for the fick,
In your last offices be quick;
And fpare my abfent friends the grief
To hear, yet give me no relief;
Expir'd to day, intomb'd to-morrow,
When known, will fave a double-forrow.
THE FABLE OF THE BITCHES.
Written in the Year 1715.
On an ATTEMPT to repeal the TEST ACт.
BITCH that was full pregnant grown,
By all the dogs and curs in town,
Finding her ripen'd time was come,
Her litter teeming from her womb,
Went here and there, and every where,
To find an eafy place to lay-her.
At length to Musick's house * she came,
And begg'd like one both blind and lame;
"My only friend, my dear," faid she,
" You fee 'tis mere neceffity,
" Hath fent me to your house to whelp;
" I 'll die, if you deny your help."
With fawning whine, and rueful tone,
With artful figh and feigned groan,
With couchant cringe, and flattering tale,
Smooth Bawty † did fo far prevail,
That Mufick gave her leave to litter;
But mark what follow'd faith! she bit her..
Whole baskets full of bits and fcraps,
And broth enough to fill her paps.
* The church of England.
+ A Scotch name for a bitch; alluding to the kirk.
For, well she knew, her numerous brood,
For want of milk, would fuck her blood.
But when she thought her pains were done,
And now 'twas high time to be gone;
In civil terms, - " My friend," says she,
" My houfe you 've had on courtefy;
" And now I earnestly defire,
"That you would with your cubs retire :
"For, should you stay but one week longer,
" I shall be starv'd with cold and hunger."
The guest reply'd - "My friend, your leave " I must a little longer crave; " Stay till my tender cubs can find "Their way - for now, you fee, they 're blind, " But, when we 've gather'd strength, I swear, " We 'll to our barn again repair."
The time pass'd on; and Musick came,
Her kennel once again to claim;
But Bawty, loft to shame and honour,
Set all her cubs at once upon her;
Made her retire, and quit her right,
Thus did the Grecian wooden horfe
Conceal a fatal armed force :
No fooner brought within the walls,
But Ilium 's loft, and Priam falls.
HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II.
LATE LORD TREASURER.
Sent to him when in the TOWER, 1716.
HOW bleft is he, who for his country dies,
Since death purfues the coward as he flies! The youth in vain would fly from Fate's attack, With trembling knees and terror at his back; Though fear should lend him pinions like the wind, Yet swifter fate will feize him from behind.
Virtue repuls'd, yet knows not to repine;
But shall with unattainted honour shine;
Nor stoops to take the staff*, nor lays it down,
Just as the rabble please to fmile or frown.
Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try
Some new unbeaten pafssage to the sky;
Where Jove a feat among the gods will give
To those who die for meriting to live.
Next, faithful Silence hath a fure reward;
Within our breast be every fecret barr'd!
He, who betrays his friend, shall never be
Under one roof, or in one ship, with me..
For who with traitors would his fafety trust,
Left, with the wicked, heaven involve the just?
And, though the villain 'scape a while, he feels
Slow vengeance, like a blood-hound, at his heels.
* The enfign of the lord treasurer's office.
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