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Yet, with this broken heart,

I wish thou never be

Tormented with the thousandth part

Of what I feel for thee.

WRITTEN OVER A GATE,

HERE
ERE lives a man who, by relation,
Depends upon predeftination,

For which the learned and the wife
His understanding much despise;
But I pronounce, with loyal tongue,
Him in the right, them in the wrong;
For how could fuch a wretch fucceed
But that, alas! it was decreed?

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STANZAS.

WHENE'ER my foolish bent to public good,
Or fonder zeal for fome mifguided prince,
Shall make my dang'rous humour understood,
For changing miniflers for men of fenfe :

When, yainly proud to fhew my public care,
And ev'n afham'd to fee three nations fool'd,
I fhall no longer bear a wretched fhare
In ruling ill, or being over-rul'd:

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Then as old lechers in a winter's night

To yawning hearers all their pranks disclose,
And what decay deprives them of delight
Supply with vain endeavours to impose:

Juft fo fhall I as idly entertain

IO

Some ftripling patriots, fond of feeming wife;
Tell how I ftill could great employments gain, 15
Without concealing truths or whisp'ring lies!

Boaft of fucceeding in my country's cause
Ev'n against fome almoft too high to blame,

Whom, when advanc'd beyond the reach of laws,
I oft' had ridicul'd to fenfe and shame:

Say I refifted the most potent fraud,
But friendless Merit openly approv'd,
And that I was above the being aw'd
Not only by my prince, but thofe he lov'd:

Who knows but my example then may please
Such noble hopeful spirits as appear
Willing to flight their pleasures and their ease
For fame and honour? till at last they hear.

After much trouble borne, and danger run,
The crown affifted, and my country ferv'd,
Without good fortune I had been undone,
Without a good estate I might have starv’d.

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ELEGY.

TO THE DUCHESS OF R

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Thou lovely flave to a rude husband's will,
By Nature us'd fo well, by him fo ill!
For all that grief we see your mind endure
Your glafs prefents you with a pleafing cure.
Those maids you envy for their happier state,
To have your form would gladly have your fate;
And of like flavery each wife complains,
Without fuch beauty's help to bear her chains.
Hufbands like him we ev'ry-where may fee;
But where can we behold a wife like thee?
While to a tyrant you by Fate are ty'd,
By love you tyrannize o'er all befide.
Those eyes, tho' weeping, can no pity move;
Worthy our grief! more worthy of our love!
You, while fo fair, (do Fortune what she please) 15
Can be no more in pain than we at ease;
Unlefs, unfatisfy'd with all our vows,
Your vain ambition fo unbounded grows,
That you repine a husband fhould escape
'Th' united force of fuch a face and shape.
If fo, alas! for all thofe charming powers
Your cafe is juft as defperate as ours.
Expect that birds fhould only fing to you,
And, as you walk, that ev'ry tree should bow;

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Expect those statues, as you pass, should burn,
And that with wonder men fhould statues turn:
Such beauty is enough to give things life,

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But not to make a husband love his wife:
A husband worse than statues or than trees,
Colder than thofe, lefs fenfible than these.
Then from fo dull a care your thoughts remove,
And waste not fighs you only owe to love.
'Tis pity fighs from such a breast should part,
Unless to ease fome doubtful lover's heart,
Who dies because he must too juftly prize
What yet the dull poffeffor does despise.
Thus precious jewels among Indians grow,
Who nor their ufe nor wondrous value know;
But we for those bright treasures tempt the main,
And hazard life for what the fools difdain,

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ODE ON LOVE.

I.

LET others fongs or fatires write,
Provok'd by vanity or spite,

My Mufe a nobler cause shall move,

To found aloud the praise of Love,

That gentle yet resistless heat

Which raifes men to all things good and great.

While other paffions of the mind

To low brutality debase mankind,

By Love we are above ourselves refin'd.

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Oh, Love! thou trance divine! in which the foul, 10 Unclogg'd with worldly cares, may range without

control,

[teach And foaring to her heav'n, from thence inspir'd can High myfteries above poor Reason's feeble reach.

II.

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To weak old age prudence fome aid may prove,
And curb thofe appetites that faintly move;
But wild impetuous youth is tam'd by nothing lefs
than Love.

Of men too rough for peace, too rude for arts,
Love's pow'r can penetrate the hardest hearts,
And thro' the closest pores a paffage find,
Like that of light, to fhine all o'er the mind.
The want of love does both extremes produce,
Maids are too nice, and men as much too loose;

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