Valour and Beauty still were Britain's claim,
Both are her great prerogatives of Fame;

15

By both the Mufes live, from both they catch their flame.

Then as by you, in folid glory bright,

Our envy'd ifle through Europe spreads her light,
And rifing honours every year fuftain,

20

And mark the golden track of Anne's diftinguish'd

reign;

Sɔ, by your prefence here, we'll ftrive to raise
To nobler heights our action and our plays ;
And Poets from your favours fhall derive
That immortality they boaft to give.

25

WRITTEN IN A WINDOW

A T

GREEN HIT HE.

GREAT pr. fident of light, and eye of day,
As through this glafs you caft your visual ray,
And view with nuptial joys two brothers blest,
And fee us celebrate the genial fealt,

Confefs that, in your progrefs round the sphere, You've found the happieft youths and brighteft beauties here.

THE TOASTER S.

WHILE circling healths inspire your sprightly

wit,

And on each glais fome beauty's praife is writ,
You afk, my friends, how can my filent Mufe
To Montague's foft name a verfe refuse?
Bright though he be, of race victorious sprung,
By wits ador'd, and by court-poets fung,
Unmov'd I hear her perfon call'd divine,
I fee her features uninfpiring fhine;
A fofter fair my foul to tranfport warms,
And, the once nam'd, no other nymph has charms.

TOFTS AND MARGARETTA.

M

USIC has learn'd the difcords of the ftate,

And concerts jar with whig and tory hate.
Here Somerset and Devonshire attend

The British Tofts, and every note commend,
To native merit juft, and pleas'd to fee
We've Roman arts, from Roman bondage free,
There fam'd L'Epine does equal skill employ,
While listening peers crowd to th' ecftatic joy :
Bedford, to hear her fong, his dice forfakes,
And Nottingham is raptur'd when the fakes:

Lull'd

Lull'd ftatesmen melt away their drowsy cares
Of England's fafety in Italian airs.

Who would not fend each year blank paflis o'er,
Rather than keep fuch ftrangers from our hore?

THE WANDERING BEAUTY..

TH

I.

HE Graces and the wandering Loves
Are fled to diftant plains,

To chace the fawns, or deep in groves

To wound admiring fwains.

With their bright miftrefs there they stray,
Who turns her careless eyes

From daily triumphs; yet, each day,
Beholds new triumphs in her way,

And conquers while she flies.

II.

But fee! implor'd, by moving prayers,
To change the lover's pain,
Venus her harnefs'd doves prepares,
And brings the fair again.

Proud mortals, who this maid pursue,

Think you, fhe'll e'er refign?

Cease, fools, your wishes to renew,

Till the grows flesh and blood like you,
Or you, like her, divine!

DIALOGUE

D E

L'AMOUR E T DU POET E.

LE P.

AMOUR, je ne veux plus aimer;
J'abjure à jamais ton empire:

Mon Cœur, laffé de fon Martire,
A réfolu de fe calmer.

L'AM. Contre moi, qui peut t'animer ?
Iris, dans fes bras te rapelle.

LE P. Non, Iris eft une infidelle;

Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.

L'AM. Pour toi, j'ai pris soin d'enflamer
Le cœur d'une beauté nouvelle;

Daphné. Le P. Non, Daphné n'eft que belle;
Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.

L'AM. D'un foupir, tu peux defarmer
Dircé, jufqu'ici fi fauvauge.

LE P. Elle n'eft plus dans le bel age;
Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.

L'AM.

DIALOGUE

FROM

THE

FRENCH OF MONSIEUR DE LA MOTTE.

POET.

No, Love-I ne'er will love again;

Thy Tyrant Empire I abjure ;

My weary heart refolves to cure

Its wounds, and ease the raging pain.

LOVE. Fool? canft thou fly my happy reign?
Iris recalls thee to her arms.

POET. She's falfe-I hate her perjur'd charms;
No, Love-I ne'er will love again.

LOVE. But know for thee I've toil'd to gain
Daphné, the bright, the reigning toaft.
POET. Daphné but common eyes can boast;
No, Love-I ne'er will love again.

LOVE. She who before fcorn'd every swain,
Dircé, fhall for one figh be thine.
POET. Age makes her rays too faintly fhine;
No, Love-I ne'er will love again.