XII.

It made a virgin put on guile,

Truth's image break her word,
A Lucia's face forbear to fmile,
A Venus kill her bird.

JOVE and SEMEL E.

By the Same.

Occafioned by a Lady's faying, that none of the ancient poetical Stories reflected fo much on the Vanity of Women, as that of Phaeton does on the Ambition of Men.

OVE for amusement quitted oft his skies,

Jov

To vifit earth, contracted to our fize;

And lov'd (however things in heav'n might go)
Exceedingly a game of romps below.

Mifs Semele he pick'd up, ás he went,

And thought, he pleas'd her to her heart's content.
But minds afpiring ne'er can be at ease;

Once known a god, as man he ceas'd to please.
In tenderest time, which women know, 'tis faid,
Thus fhe bespake the loving god in bed.

Thou,

Thou, who gav'ft Dædalus his mazy art,
And knowest all things but a woman's heart,
Hear my request for something yet untry'd,
And fwear by Styx, I fhall not be deny'd.

Fond Jove, like men, the better to fucceed,
Took any oath; then bade the girl proceed.
In human guise, great Jove, leave off to rove,
Deceiving woman-kind, and pilf'ring love:
What are those joys, which as a man you give,
To what a göd of thunder can atchieve?
Such weight of love, and might of limbs employ,
As give immortal madams heav'nly joy.

Jove came array'd, as bound by cruel fate,
And Semele enjoy'd the god in state :
When flaming fplendors round his beamy head
Divinely fhone, and ftruck the mortal dead.

Faint from the course though we awhile retreat,
To cool and breathe before another heat;
The gods can't know, fresh with eternal prime,
Love's ftinted paufe, nor want recruits from time;
But muft with unabating ardours kiss,

And bear down nature with excefs of blifs.

Learn hence, each fair one, whom like beauties grace, Poffefs'd of lawless empire by your face,

Not

Not to do what you lift, because you may,
Let cool difcretion warm defires allay;
And itching curiofity believe

A lurking taint deriv'd from mother Eve.

Spare then the men, ye fair, and frankly own,
Your fex, like ours, has had its Phaëton.

W

The

SEEKER.

By the Same.

HEN I first came to London, I rambled about
From fermon to fermon, took a flice and went out.

Then on me, in divinity batchelor, try'd

Many priests to obtrude a Levitical bride;

And urging their various opinions, intended

To make me wed systems, which they recommended.
Said a letch'rous old fry'r skulking near Lincoln's-Inn,
(Whose trade's to abfolve, but whose pastime's to fin;
Who, fpider-like, feizes weak protestant flies,
Which hung in his sophistry cobweb he spies ;)
Ah pity your foul, for without our church pale,
If
you happen to die, to be damn'd you can't fail;

The

The bible, you boast, is a wild revelation:
Hear a church that can't-err if you hope for falvation.

Said a formal non-con, (whose rich stock of grace
Lies forward expos'd in fhop-window of face,)
Ah! pity your foul: come, be of our sect :

For then you are safe, and may plead you're elect. As it stands in the Acts, we can prove ourselves faint Being Christ's little flock every where spoke against.

Said a jolly church parfon, (devoted to ease, While penal law dragons guard his golden fleece,)

If

you pity your foul, I pray liften to neither;

The first is in error, the last a deceiver:

That ours is the true church, the sense of our tribe is, And furely in medio tutiffimus ibis.

Said a yea and nay friend with a stiff hat and band,, (Who while he talk'd gravely would hold forth his hand,) Dominion and wealth are the aim of all three, Though about ways and means they may all disagree; Then prithee be wife, go the quakers by-way, 'Tis plain, without turnpikes, fo nothing to pay.

VOL. I.

M

On

XXXX

On BARCLAY'S Apology for the Quakers.

By the Same.

HESE fheets primæval doctrines yield,

TH

Where revelation is reveal'd:

Soul-phlegm from literal feeding bred,

Systems lethargic to the head

They purge, and yield a diet thin,

That turns to gospel-chyle within.

Truth fublimate may here be feen
Extracted from the parts terrene.
In these is fhewn, how men obtain
What of Prometheus poets feign:
To fcripture-plainness dress is brought,
And speech, apparel to the thought.
They hifs from instinct at red coats,
And war, whofe work is cutting throats,
Forbid, and press the law of love:
Breathing the spirit of the dove.

Lucrative doctrines they deteft,

As manufactur'd by the priest,

And