The Works of the English Poets

Which trims the fun with its own beams;:
Whilft the moon ticks for hers, it feems,,
And, as afham'd of the difgrace,

Unmafks but feldom all her face :
Which bounds the ocean within banks,
To hinder all its mad-cap pranks:
Which does the globe to an axle fit,
Like wheel to nave, or joint to fpit!
But then again! How can it be,
Whilft fuch vaft tracks of earth we fee
O'er-run by barbarous tyranny !`

Vile fycophants in clover bless'd;
Whilft patriots with Duke Humphry feast,
Brow-beaten, bullied, and opprefs'd!
Pimps rais'd to honour, riches, rule;
Whilft he, who feems to be a tool,
Is the priest's knave, the placeman's fool!
This whimsical phænomenon,
Confounding all my pro and con,
Bamboozles the account again,
And draws me nolens volens in,
Eike a prefs'd foldier, to efpoufe
The fceptic's hypothetic caufe:
Who Kent will to a codling lay us,
That crofs-or-pile refin'd the chaos ;
That jovial atoms once did dance,
And form'd this merry orb by chance,
No art or kill were taken up,
But all fell out as round as hoop!

A vacuum 's another maxim;

'Where, he brags, experience backs him : Denying that all space is full,

From infide of a Tory's skull. a Deity; his tenet

As to a

Swears by It, there is nothing in it;
Elfe 'tis too busy or too idle,

With our poor bagatelles to meddle.
Anna's a curb to lawless Louis,
Which as illuftrious as true is;
Her victories o'er defpotic-right,
That paffive non-refisting bite,
Have brought this mystery to light;
Have fairly made the riddle out,
And anfwer'd all the fqueamish doubt;
Have clear'd the regency on-high,
From every prefumptuous Why.
No more I boggle as before,
But with full confidence adore;
Plain, as nofe on face, expounding,
All this intricate dumb-founding ;
Which to the mean'ft conception is,
As followeth hereunder, viz.

Tyrants mount but like a meteor,
To make their beadlong fall the greater.

}

THE

THE GARDEN PLOT. 1709.

WHEN Naboth's vineyard look'd fo fine,

The king cried out," Would this were mine!"` And yet no reason could prevail,

To bring the owners to a fale;
Jezabel faw, with haughty pride,
How Ahab griev'd to be denied:
And thus accofted him with fcorn,

"Shall Naboth make a monarch mourn?"

A king, and weep! The ground's your own:
I'll veft the garden in the crown.

With that the hatch'd a plot, and made
Poor Naboth anfwer with his head.
And when his harmlefs blood was fpilt,
The ground became the forfeit of his guilt.
Poor Hall, renown'd for comely hair,
Whofe hands perhaps were not fo fair,
Yet had a Jezabel as near.

Hall, of fmall Scripture-converfation,
Yet howe'er Hungerford's quotation,
By fome ftrange accident had got
The ftory of this Garden Plot;
Wifely forefaw he might have reason
To dread a modern bill of treason,
If Jezabel fhould please to want
His fmail addition to her grant ;
Therefore refolv'd in humble fort
To begin firft, and make his court;
And, feeing nothing elfe would do,
Gave a third part, to fave the other two.