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Such in thy verfe fhall Nivernois be fhewn :
France fhall with joy the fair resemblance own;
And Albion fighing bid her fons aspire
To imitate the merit they admire.
EPITAPH ON CAPTAIN GRENVILLE,
YE weeping Mufes, Graces, Virtues, tell
If, fince your all-accomplish'd Sydney fell,
ON CAPTAIN CORNWALL, SLAIN OFF TOULON, 1743.
HOUGH Britain's genius hung her drooping head,
And mourn'd her ancient naval glory fled;
On that fam'd day, when France combin'd with Spain, Strove for the wide dominion of the main :
Yet, Cornwall! all with general voice agree pay the tribute of applause to thee.
When his bold chief, in thickest fight engag'd,
ON GOOD HUMOUR.
ELL me, ye fons of Phoebus, what is this
And prudes who spy all faults except their own.
none can envy him whom all must love.
ASTOLFO'S VOYAGE TO THE MOON,
HEN now Aftolfo, ftor'd within a vase,
He turn'd his eyes towards another place,
Where, clofely cork'd, unnumber'd bottles lay.
Of finest crystal were thofe bottles made,
Yet what was there inclos'd he could not fee:
To tell what treasure there conceal'd might be.
"A wondrous thing it is," the Saint replied,
"Subtle and thin, that MAIDENHEAD is hight,
From earth each day in troops they hither come,
"Nor ever owner thought them gone too foon.
"When here arriv'd, they are in bottles pent,
"Those that to young and wanton girls belong Leap, bounce, and fly, as if they'd burst the "glafs:
"But thofe that have below been kept too long "Are fpiritlefs, and quite decay'd, alas!"
So fpake the Saint, and wonder feiz'd the Knight,
For various fecrets there were brought to light;
Virginities, that clofe confin'd he thought
In t' other world, he found above the sky;
His fifter's and his coufin's there were brought,
Which made him fwear, though good St. John was by.
But much his wrath increas'd, when he efpied
That which was Chloe's once, his miftrefs dear: "Ah, falfe and treacherous fugitive!" he cried, "Little I deem'd that I fhould meet thee here.
"Did not thy owner, when we parted last,
"Promise to keep thee fafe for me alone? "Scarce of our abfence three fhort months are past, “And thou already from thy post art flown.
"Be not enrag'd, replied th' Apostle kind
"Since that this maidenhead is thine by right, "Take it away; and, when thou haft a mind, "Carry it thither whence it took its flight."
"Thanks, Holy Father!" quoth the joyous Knight, "The Moon fhall be no lofer by your grace:
"Let me but have the use on 't for a night,
WITH THE TRAGEDY OF
N tender Otway's moving fcenes we find
What power the gods have to your fex affign'd: Venice was loft, if on the brink of fate
A woman had not propt her finking state :
Vain was her fenate's wisdom, vain its power;