A DIALOGUE. > Pope. SINCE my old friend is grown so great, As to be minister of state, I'm told (but 'tis not true I hope) That Craggs will be asham'd of Pope. Craggs. Alas! if I am such a creature, To grow the worse for growing greater; EPIGRAM, Engraved on the Collar of a Dog, which I gave to his Royal Highness. I AM his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you? EPIGRAM, Occasioned by an Invitation to Court. N the lines that you sent are the muses and IN graces; You've the nine in your wit, and the three in your faces. ON AN OLD GATE, Erected in Chiswick Gardens. GATE, how cam'st thou here? Gate. I was brought from Chelsea last year, Inigo Jones put me together. Sir Hans Sloane Let me alone: Burlington brought me hither. A FRAGMENT. WHAT are the falling rills, the pendent shades, The morning bowers, the evening colonades, But soft recesses for th' uneasy mind To sigh unheard in, to the passing wind! VERSES LEFT BY MR. POPE, On his lying in the same Bed which Wilmot the celebrated Earl of Rochester slept in, at Adder bury, then belonging to the Duke of Argyle. July 9th, 1739. WITH no poetic ardour fir'd WIT I press'd the bed where Wilmot lay; That here he lov'd, or here expir'd, But in thy roof, Argyle, are bred Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie Such flames as high in patriots burn, St. James's Place, London, October 22. you well; Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here: FEW words are best; I wish Some morning-walks along the Mall, If, in this interval, between The falling leaf and coming frost, For three whole days you here may rest, From office, business, news, and strife; And (what most folks would think a jest) Want nothing else, except your wife. EPITAPHS. His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani VIRG. ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET, In the Church of Withyam, in Sussex. DORSET, the grace of courts, the muses' pride, Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died. Blest satirist! who touch'd the mean so true, Blest courtier! who could king and country please, Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine, ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBALL, One of the principal Secretaries of State to King William the Third, who, having resigned his Place, died in his Retirement at Easthamsted, in Berkshire, 1716. A PLEASING form; a firm, yet cautious mind; Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet resign'd; Honour unchang'd, a principle profest, Fix'd to one side, but mod'rate to the rest: Such this man was; who now from earth remov'd, ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT, Only Son of the Lord Chancellor Harcourt, at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt, in Oxfordshire, 1720. To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; How vain is reason, eloquence how weak! |