On his GROTTO at Twickenham,

COMPOSED OF..

MARBLE, SPARS, Gems, Ores, and MINERALS.

,

wave

TH

HOU who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent Shines a broad Mirrour through the shadowy Cave; Where lingering drops from mineral Roofs distil, And pointed Crystals break the sparkling Rill, Unpolish'd Gems no Ray on Pride bestow,

S
And latent Metals innocently glow :
Approach. Great Nature ftudiously behold !
And eye the Mine without a wish for Gold.
Approach: but awful! Lo! th' Ægerian Grott,
Where, nobly pensive, St. John sat and thought;
Where British fighs from dying WYNDHAM stole,
And the bright fiame was shot through MARCHMOHT'S

Soul.
Let such, such only, tread this sacred Floor,
Who dare to love their Country, and be poor.

10

VOL. I!.

A a

To

To Mrs. M. B. on her BIRTH-DAY.

OH, be thou bleft with all that Heaven can fend,

Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a

Friend :
Not with those Toys the female world admire,
Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire.
With added years, if Life bring nothing new, 5
But like a Sieve let every blessing through,
Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er,
And all we gain, some fad Reflection more;
Is that a Birth-Day? 'tis, alas ! too clear,
'Tis but the Funeral of the former year.

Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content,
And the gay Conscience of a life well spent,
Calm every thought, inspirit every grace,
Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear;
Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
In some foft dream, or Ecstasy of joy,
Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the Tomb,
And wake to Raptures in a Life to come.

VARIATION.
Ver. 15. Originally thus in the MS.

And oh since Death must that fair frame destroy,
Die, by some sudden Ecstasy of Joy;
In some soft dream may thy mild soul remove,
And be thy latest galp a Sigh of Love.

15

20

To

To Mr. THOMAS SOUTHERN,

On his Birth-day, 1742.
ESIGN'D to live, prepar'd to die,

With not one fin, but poetry,
This day Tom's fair Account has run
(Without a blot) to eighty-one.
Kind Boyle, before his poet, lays

5
A table, with a cloth of bays;
And Ireland, mother of sweet singers,
Presents her harp still to his fingers.
The feart, his towering genius marks
In yonder wild-goose and the larks!
The mushrooms shew his wit was sudden !
And for his judgment, lo a pudden !
Roast beef, though old, proclaims him stout,
Aud grace, although a bard, devout.
May Tom, whom Heaven sent down to raise 15
The price of prologues and of plays,
Be every birth-day more a winner,
Digest his thirty-thousandth dinner;
Walk to his

grave

without reproach, And scorn a rascal and a coach.

EP I T A PH S.

“ His faltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani “ Munere !"

VIRG.

I.

On CHARLES Earl of DORSET,

In the Church of Withyam in Suffex. DO

ORSET, the Grace of Courts, the Muses' Pride,

Patron of Arts, and judge of Nature, dy'd. The scourge of Pride, though sanctified or great, Of Fops in Learning, and of Knaves in State : Yet soft his Nature, though severe his Lay, His Anger' moral, and his Wisdom gay. Bleft Satirist! who touch'd the Mean so true, As show'd, Vice had his hate and pity too. Bleft Courtier ! who could King and Country please, Yet sacred keep his Friendships, and his ease. Blest Peer! his great Forefathers every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his Race; Where other BUCKHURSTS, other Dorsers thine, And Patrons still, or Poets, deck the Line.

II.

On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBAL, One of the principal Secretaries of State to King

WILLIAM III. who, having resigned his place, died in his Retirement at East-hamsted in Berkshire, 1716.

A Pleafing Form; a firm, yet cautious Mind;

Sincere, though prudent; constant, yet refign'd: Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest, Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest : An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too; Just to his Prince, and to his Country true : Fill'd with the Sense of Age, the Fire of Youth, A Scorn of Wrangling, yet a Zeal for Truth; A generous Faith, from Superstition free: A love to Peace, and hate of Tyranny; Such this Man was : who now, from Earth removid, At length enjoys that Liberty he lov'd,