Drives out brangling and contention,
Brings in reafon and invention.
For your fake, as well as mine,
I the lofty ftyle decline.
I should make a figure fcurvy,
And your head turn topsy-turvy..
I, who love to have a fling
Both at fenate-house and king;
That they might fome better way tread,,
To avoid the public hatred; ·
Thought no method more commodious,
Than to fhew their vices odious;
Which I chofe to make appear,
Not by anger, but a fneer.
my method of reforming
Is by laughing, not by ftorming
(For my friends have always thought
Tenderness my greatest fault);
Would you have me change my ftyle ? :
On your faults no longer fmile;
But, to patch up all our quarrels,
Quote you texts from Plutarch's Morals;
Or from Solomon produce
Maxims teaching Wisdom's use?
If I treat you like a crown'd-head,
You have cheap enough compounded; -
Can you put-in higher claims,
Than the owners of St. James..
You are not fo great a grievance,
As the hirelings of St. Stephen's.
You are of a lower clafs
Than my friend Sir Robert Brass.
None of thefe have mercy found :
I have laugh'd, and lafh'd them round.
Have you feen a rocket fly?
You would fwear it pierc'd the fky:
It but reach'd the middle air,
Bursting into pieces there :
Thousand sparkles falling down
Light on many a coxcomb's crown:
See what mirth the fport creates ;
Singes hair, but breaks no pates.
Thus, fhould I attempt to climb,
Treat you in a style fublime,
Such a rocket is my Mufe:
*Should I lofty numbers chufe,
Ere I reach'd Parnaffus' top,
I should burst, and bursting drop;
All my fire would fall in fcraps;
Give your head fome gentle raps;
Only make it fmart a while:
Then could I forbear to fmile,
When I found the tingling pain
Entering warm your frigid brain;
Make you able upon fight
To decide of wrong and right;
Talk with fenfe whate'er you please on ;
Learn to relish truth and reason?
Thus we both fhall gain our prize :
I to laugh, and you grow wife.
A YOUNG LADY'S COMPLAINT,
The Stay of the DEAN in ENGLAND. 1726.
BLOW, ye Zephyrs, gentle gales ;
Gently fill the fwelling fails.
Neptune, with thy trident long,
Trident three-fork'd, trident ftrong;
And Nereids fair and gay,
ye
Fairer than the rose in May,
Nereids living in deep caves,
Gently wash'd with gentle waves;
Nereids, Neptune, lull asleep
Ruffling ftorms, and ruffled deep;
"All around, in pompous state,
On this richer Argo wait :
Argo, bring my Golden Fleece;
Argo, bring him to his Greece.
Will Cadenus longer stay?
Come, Cadenus, come away;
Come with all the hafte of love,
Come unto thy turtle-dove.
The ripen'd cherry on the tree
Hangs, and only hangs for thee;
Luscious peaches, mellow pears,
Ceres with her yellow ears,
And the grape, both red and white,
Grape infpiring just delight;
All are ripe, and courting fue
To be pluck'd and prefs'd by you..
Pinks have loft their blooming fed,
Mourning hang their drooping head,
Every flower languid seems,
Wants the colour of thy beams,
Beams of wondrous force and power,
Beams reviving every flower.
Come, Cadenus, blefs once more,
Blefs again thy native shore;
Blefs again this drooping ifle,
Make its weeping beauties fmile,
Beauties that thine abfence mourn,
Beauties withing thy return.
Come, Cadenus, come with hafte,,
Come before the winter's blaft;
Swifter than the lightning fly;
Or I, like Vaneffa, die.
OU will excuse me, I suppose,
For fending rhyme instead of profe,
Because hot weather makes me lazy;
To write in metre is more eafy.
While you are trudging London town,,
I'm ftroling Dublin up and down ;
While you converfe with lords and dukes,
I have their betters here, my books:
Fix'd in an elbow-chair at ease,
I chufe companions as I please.
I'd rather have one single shelf
Than all my friends, except yourself;
For, after, all that can be said,
Our best acquaintance are the dead.
While you 're in raptures with Fauftina *;
I'm charm'd at home with our Sheelina.
While you are ftarving there in ftate,
I'm cramming here with butchers meat.
You fay, when with those lords you dine,
They treat you with the beft of wine,
Burgandy, Cyprus, and Tokay;
Why fo can we, as well as they.
No reafon then, my dear good Dean,
But you fhould travel home again.
What though you may n't in Ireland hope
To find fuch folk as Gay and Pope;
If you with rhymers here would share
But half the wit that you can fpare,
I'd lay twelve eggs, that, in twelve days,
You'd make a dozen of Popes and Gays.
Our weather 's good, our fky is clear,
We 've every joy, if you were here;
So lofty and fo bright a sky
Was never feen by Ireland's eye!"
Signora Fauftina, a famous Italian finger.
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