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UNDER THE LADY HARPER'S NAMI. Written under a Picture of the Countess of Sandwich O Harper, sprightly, young, and gay, drawn in Man's babit.
Sweet as the rofy morn in May, CHEN Sandwich in her sex's garb we see,
Fill to the brim, I'll drink it up
To the last drop, were poison in the cup.
UNDER THE LADY MARY VILLIERS' XANE. Who seem'd the Goddess, seems the God of Love.
TF I not love you, Villiers, more
Than ever mortal lov'd before,
With such a passion fixt and fure,
As even poffeffion could not cure,
Never to ce se but with my breath;
May then this bumper be my death.
Goddess of Love, and of the day;
CUPID DISARMED. Phæbus in vain calls forth the blushing morn,
To the Princess D'Auvergre. He but creates the day which you adorn.
YUPID, delighting to be near her, The lark, that wont with warbling throat
Charm'd to hehold her, charm'd to hear ber, Early to falute the skies,
As he stood gazing on her face, Or Nceps, or else suspends his note,
Enchanted with each matchless grace, Disclaiming day till you arise.
Loft in the trance, he drops the dart, Goddess awake, thy beams display,
Which never fails to reach the heart: Restore the universe to light,
She seizes it, and arms her hand, When Hamilton appears, then dawns the day ;
“ 'Tis thus I Love himself command ; And when the disappears, begins the night.
“ Now tremble, cruel boy, she said,
“ For all the mischief you have made. Lovers, who watchful vigils keep, (For lovers never, never fleep)
The God, recovering his surprize, Wait for the rising of the Fair,
Trusts to his wings, away he flies. To offer songs and hymns of prayer ;
Swift as an arrow cuts the wind, Like Persians to the sun,
And leaves his whole artillery behind. Even life, and death, and fate are there :
Princess, restore the boy his useless darts, For in the rolls of ancient destiny,
With surer charms you captivate our hearts ; Th’inevitable book, 'twas noted down,
Love's captives of their liberty regain, The dying should revive, the living die,
Death only can release us from your chain. As Hamilton shall smile, as Hamilton shall frown!
c HR vs. Awake, bright Hamilton, arise,
Goddess of love, and of the day, Awake, disclose thy radiant eyes,
CUPIDON DESARMÉ. And show the fun a brighter ray. Phæbus in vain calls forth the blushing morn,
Fable pour Madame la Princeffe D'Auvergre. He but creates the day which you adorn.
YUPIDON prenant plaisir de se trouver toujours
auprès d'elle ; charmé de la voir, charme de l'entendre : Comme il admiroit un jour les graces
inimitables, dans cette distraction de son ame & de WRITTEN UNDER MRS. HARE'S NAME, UPON
ses sens, il lailla tomber ce dard fatal qui ne manque
jamais de percer les cæurs. Elle le ramalle loud airs, HE Gods of Wine, and Wit, and Love prepare, & s'armant la belle main;
“ C'est ainsi, dit-elle, que je me rends maitrefie Love is enjoin'd to name his favourite toast,
“ de l'amour, tremblez, enfant malin, je veux vanger And Hare's the Goddess that delights him most;
“ tous les maux que tu as fait.” Phæbus approves, and bids the trumpet found, And Bacchus in a bumper sends round.
Le Dieu étonné, revenant de la surprize, fe fiant à ses ailes, s'échappe, & s'envole vite comme une Aleche qui fend l'air, & lui laisse la pollektion de toute
son artillerie. UNDER THE DUCHESS OF BOLTON's.
Princesse, rendez lui les armes qui vous font inutiles : OVE's keenelt darts are radiant Bolton's care,
La nature vous a donné des charmes plus puissants : Which the bright Goddess poisons with despair : Les captifs de l'amour fouvent recouvrent la liberté; The God of Wine the dire effea foresees,
Il n'y a que la mort seule qui puisse affranchir les votres. And sends the juice that gives the lover ease.
EXPLICATION IN FRENCH.
A DRINKING GLASS.
BACCHUS DISARMED. T. Mrs. Laura Dillon, now Lady Faulkland. BA
ACCHUS to arms, the enemy's at hand,
Laura appears ; stand to your glaffes, ftand, The God of Love, the God of Wine defies, Behold him in full march, in Laura's eyes : Bacchus to arms, and to refift the dart, Each with a faithful brimmer guard his heart. Fiy, Bacchus, fiy, there's treason in the cup, For Love comes pouring in with every drop ; I feel him in my heart, my blood, my brain, Fly, Bacchus, Ay, resistance is in vain, Or craving quarter, crown a friendly bowl To Laura's health, and give up all thy soul.
The foregoing Englied, and applied to Queen Anne.
In piety supreme, as in command;
THYRSIS AND DELIA.
SONG IN DIALOGUE.
And tax you with disdain ; Still to my tender love severe, Untouch'd when I complain?
DELIA. When men of equal merit love us,
And do with equal ardor fue, Thyriss, you know but one must move us,
Can I be yours and Strephon's too ? My eyes view both with mighty pleasure,
Impartial to your high defert, To both alike, efteem I measure, To one alone can give my heart.
THYRSIS. Myfterious guide of inclination,
Tell me, tyrant, why am I
Why am I
URGANDA'S PROPHECY. Spoken by way of Epilogue at the firft representation of
The British Enchanters.
And as at Delphos, wben the foaming priest
Triumpbs of Her Majesty's Reign.
Empress and conqu’ror, bail! thec Fates ordain
Taught by this great example to be just, Succeeding Kings Thall well fulfil their truit; Discord, and war, and tyranny shall ceale, And jarring nations be compellid to peace; Princes and states, like subjects shall agree To trust her power, tafe in her piety.
DE L I A. On Fate alone depends success,
And Fancy, Reason over-rules, Or why should virtue ever miss
Reward, so often given to fools ? 'Tis not the valiant, nor the witty,
But who alone is born to please; Love does predestinate our pity,
We choose but whom he first decrees.
A LATIN INSCRIPTION
On a Medal for Lewis XIV of France. ROXIMUS & fimilis regnas, Ludovice, tonanti, Magnus es expansis alis, fed maximus armis,
Protegis hinc Anglos, Teutones inde feris.
When more indulgent to the writers ease,
Our author then, to please you in your way,
Thus critics should, like these, be branded foes,
But generous minds have more heroic views,
To the Jew of Venice.
ACH in his turn, the Poet I, and the Prieft ,
Have viewed the stage, but like false prophets Till by fruition, novelty destroy'd,
guess'd. The nymph must find new charms to be enjoy'd.
The man of zeal, in his religious rage, As by his equipage the man you prize,
Would filence poets, and reduce the stage ;
The poet, rahly to get clear, retorts
. Unless the music and the dance invite,
Both err : for without mincing, to be plain, Scarce Hamlet clears the charges of the night.
The guilt's your own of every odious scene : Would you but fix fome standard how to move, The present time still gives the Atage its mode, We would transform to any thing you love ;
The vices that you practice, we explode ; Judge our desire by our cost and pains,
We hold the glass, and but reflect your shame, Sure the expence, uncertain are the gains.
Like Spartans, by exposing, to reclaim. But though we fetch from Italy and France
The scribbler, pinch'd with hunger, writes to dine, Our fopperies of tune, and mode of dance,
And to your genius must conform his line; Our sturdy Britons scorn to borrow senle :
Not lewd by choice, but merely to submit : Howe'er to foreign fashions we submit,
Would you encourage sense, fenfe would be writ. Still every fop prefers his mother wit.
Good plays we try, which after the first day, In only wit this constancy is shown,
Unseen we act, and to bare benches play ; For never was that arrant changeling known,
Plain sense, which pleas'd your fires an age ago, Who for another's sense would quit his own.
Is loft, without the garniture of thow : Our author would excuse these youthful scenes, At vast expence we labour to our ruin, Begotten at his entrance in his teens :
And court your favour with our own undoing ;
A war of profit mitigates the evil,
How was the scene forlorn, and how despis'd,
Shakespeare's sublime in vain entic'd the throng, In charity so cold, in zeal fo warm ;
Without the aid of Purcel's syren song.
In the same antique loom these scenes were wrought,
Embellith'd with good morals, and juft thought ; He gives his thirds—to charitable uses.
True Nature in her noblest light you sce,
To trifling jefts, and fulsome ribaldry.
'Tis Shakespeare's play, and if thefe scenes miscarry,
Let Gormon * take the ftage-or Lady Mary to OUR comic writer is a common foe,
None can intrigue in peace, or be a beau, Nor wanton wife, nor widow can be fped,
+ To the Ladies. Not even * Russel can inter the dead,
| Mr. Dryden's Prologue to the Pilgrim. But straight this cenfor, in his whim of wit, Strips, and presents you naked to the Pit.
Mr, Collier's View of the Stage.
* A famous prize-fighter. * Ruffel, a famous undertaker for funerals; alluding + A famous rope-dancer so called. to a Comedy written by Sir Richard Steele, entitled, The Funeral.
Τ Η Σ
Friendship's a cloak to hide fome treacherous end, SHE-GALLANTS;
Your greatest foe, is your profefsing friend ;
The soul resign'd, unguarded and secure,
The wound is deepest, and the stroke most sure.
Justice is bought and fold; the Bench, the Bar
VI. Our poet so, with like concern reviews
Sires fell their fons, and fons their fires betray: The yonthful follies of a love-lick Muse;
And senates vote, as armies fight, for pay; To amorous toils, and to the filent grove,
The wife no longer is restrain'd by shame, To beauty's snares, and to deceitful love,
But has i... husband's leave to play the game.
Diseas'd, decrepid, from the mixt embrace
From such defenders what can Britain hope?
And where, O Liberty! is now thy prop?
Not such the men who bent the stubborn bow, Barefac'd devours, in gaudy colours deck'd;
And learnt in rugged sports to dare a foe: Then in a vizard, to avoid grimace,
Not such the men who fill'd with heaps of dain Allows all freedom, but to see the face.
Fam'd Agincourt and Creffy's bloody plain, la pulpits and at bar she wears a gown,
IX. In camps a sword, in palaces a crown.
Haughty Britannia then, inur’d to toil, Refoly'd to combat with this motley beast
Spread far and near the terrors of her ise;
True to herself, and to the public weal,
Not much unlike, when thou in arms wert seen Yet to the Fair he fain would quarter show,
Eager for glory on th'embattled green, His tender heart recoils at every blow;
When Stanhope led thee through the heats of Spain If unawares he gives too smart a stroke,
To dye in purple Almanara's plain.
In Anna's reign, our ancient fame renew'd :
WH Britons could, when juftly rous'd to war,
Let Blenheim Spcak, and witness Gibraltar,
FOR T U N E.
Some lurking ill, and hidden mischief near : II.
Usd to her frowns, I stand upon my guard,
And arm'd in virtue, keep my soul prepared.
Fickle and false to others the may be,
I can complain but of her constancy.
Virtutem à me,
Fortunam ex aliis
CHA. Religion gain, or priestcraft at the best,
CHARACTER OF MR. WYCHERLEY
V E R S E S
10 the QULEN.
THE MUSE'S LAST DYING SONG. Great proofs of Nature's force, though none of Art;
MUSE expiring, who, with earlieft voice, But Wycherley earns hard whate'er he gains,
Made kings and queens, and beauty's charms He wants no judgment, and he spares no pains, &c.
o Queen! to thee: accept her dying lays.
So, at th' approach of death, the cygnet tries
To warble one note more and finging dies.
Commands subjection, and secures the throne :
Contending parties, and plebeian rage,
Had puzzled loyalty for half an age:
Conquering our hearts, you end the long dispute, And Venus furnishes the face :
All, who have eyes, confess you absolute. In royal Anne's bright form is seen,
To Tory doctrines, even Whigs resign, What comprehends them all-the Queen.
And in your person own a right divine.
Thus sang the Muse, in her last moments fir’d
With Carolina's praise-and then expir’d. Written on a window in the Tower, where Sir Robert
Walpole had been confined, OOD unexpected, evil unforeseen,
tings he is severe, bold, undertaking; in his nature,
gentle, modeft, inoffensive; he makes use of his faAppear by turns, as Fortune shifts the scene :
tire as a man truly brave of his courage, only upon Some rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain, And fall so hard, they bound and rise again.
public occafions and for public good. He compafhonates the wounds he is under the neceffity to probe, or,
like a good natured conqueror, grieves at the occasions * This character, however just in other particulars, that provoke him to make such havock. yet is injurious in one; Mr. Wycherley being repre There are who object to his versification; but a fented as a laborious writer, which every man who has diamond is not less a diamond for not being polihed. the least perfonal knowledge of him can contradict. Versification is in poetry what colouring is in paint
Those indeed who form their judgment only from ing, a beautiful ornament; but if the proportions are his writings, may be apt to imagine so many admirable just, the posture true, the figure bold, and the resemreflections, such diversity of images and characters, blance according to nature, though the colours should such strict enquiries into nature, such close observati- happen to be rough, or carelessly laid on, yet may the ons on the several humours, manners, and affections piece be of inestimable value; whereas the nicest and of all ranks and degrees of men, and, as it were, so the finest colouring art can invent, is but labor in true and so perfect a diffection of humankind, deliver- vain, where the rest is wanting. Our present writers ed with fo much pointed wit and force of expression, indeed, for the most part, seem to lay the whole stress could be no other than the work of extraordinary dili- of their endeavours upon the harmony of words; but gence and application : whereas others, who have the then, like eunuchs, they facrifice their manhood for a happiness to be acquainted with the author, as well as voice, and reduce our poetry to be like echo, nothing his writings, are able to affirm these happy performan- but sound. ces were due to his infinite genius and natural penetra In Mr. Wycherley, every thing is masculine; his tion. We owe the pleasure and advantage of having Muse is not led forth as to a review, but as to a battle; been so well entertained and instructed by him to his not adorned for parade, but execution; he would be facility of doing it; for, if I mistake him not extreme
tried by the sharpnefs of his blade, and not by the ly, had it been a trouble to him to write, he would finery; like your heroes of antiquity, he charges in have spared himself that trouble. What he has per- iron, and seems to despise all ornament but intrinfic formed wonld indeed have been difficult for another ; merit; and like those heroes has therefore added anobut the club which a man of ordinary size could not
ther name to his own, and by the unanimous consent lift, was but a walking-stick for Hercules.
of his cotemporaries, is distinguished by the juft appelMr. Wycherley, in his writings, has been the sharp-lation of Manly Wycherley. eft fatirist of his time; but, in his nature, he has a!!
LANSDOWNE. the softness of the tenderest dispositions : in his wri.