the commendations the critics can give him will make but very little amends. All I fhall fay for these trifles is, that I pretend not to vie with any man whatsoever. I doubt not but there are feveral now living who are able to write better on all fubjects than I am upon any one: but I will take the boldness to say, that there is no one man among them all who shall be readier to acknowledge his own faults, or to do juftice to the merits of other people.

POEMS

O, little book, and to the world impart

Go

The faithful image of an amorous heart:

Those who love's dear deluding pains have known
May in my fatal ftories read their own.

Those who have liv'd from all its torments free,
May find the thing they never felt, by me.
Perhaps, advis'd, avoid the gilded bait,
And, warn'd by my example, fhun my fate.
While with calm joy, fafe landed on the coaft,
I view the waves on which I once was toft.
Love is a medley of endearments, jars,
Sufpicions, quarrels, reconcilements, wars;
Then peace again. Oh! would it not be beft
To chace the fatal poifon from our breast?
But, fince fo few can live from paffion free,
Happy the man, and only happy he,

Who with fuch lucky stars begins his love,

That his cool judgment does his choice approve.
Ill-grounded paffions quickly wear away;

What's built upon efteem can ne'er decay.

L

ET the dull Merchant curfe his angry fate,

And from the winds and waves his fortune wait! Let the loud Lawyer break his brains, and be A flave to wrangling coxcombs, for a fee : Let the rough Soldier fight his prince's foes, And for a livelihood his life expofe : I wage no war, I plead no cause, but Love's; I fear no ftorms but what Celinda moves. And what grave cenfor can my choice defpife? But here, fair charmer, here the difference lies : The Merchant, after all his hazards past, Enjoys the fruit of his long toils at last; The Soldier high in his king's favour stands, And, after having long obey'd, commands; The Lawyer, to reward his tedious care, Roars on the bench, that babbled at the bar : While I take pains to meet a fate more hard, And reap no fruit, no favour, no reward.

EPIGRAM.

Written in a Lady's Table-Book.

WITH

ITH what strange raptures would my foul be
bleft,

Were but her book an emblem of her breast!
As I from that all former marks efface,
And, uncontrol'd, put new ones in their place;
So might I chace all others from her heart,
And my own image in the stead impart.
But, ah! how short the blifs would prove, if he
Who feiz'd it next, might do the fame by me!

E LE G Y.

THE POWER OF VERSE.

TO HIS

MISTRESS.

WHILE thofe bright eyes fubdue where-e'er you will,

And, as you please, can either fave or kill;

What youth fo bold the conqueft to defign?

What wealth fo great to purchase hearts like thine ?

None but the Mufe that privilege can claim,

And what you give in love, return in fame.
Riches and titles with your life must end;
Nay, cannot ev`n in life your fame defend :

Verse can give fame, can fading beauties fave,
And, after death, redeem them from the grave:
Embalm'd in verfe, through diftant times they come,
Preferv'd, like bees within an amber tomb.
Poets (like monarchs on an Eastern throne,
Restrain'd by nothing but their will alone)
Here can cry up, and there as boldly blame,
And, as they pleafe, give infamy or fame.
In vain the Tyrian Queen refigns her life,
For the bright glory of a spotless wife,
If lying bards may false amours rehearse,
And blaft her name with arbitrary verfe;
While one, who all the abfence of her lord
Had her wide courts with preffing lovers ftor'd,
Yet, by a Poet grac'd, in deathless rhymes,
Stands a chafte pattern to fucceeding times.
With pity then the Mufes' friends furvey,
Nor think your favours there are thrown away;
Wifely like feed on fruitful foil they're thrown,
To bring large crops of glory and renown :
For as the fun, that in the marshes breeds
Nothing but naufeous and unwholfome weeds,
With the fame rays, on rich and pregnant earth,
To pleasant flowers and useful fruits gives birth :
So favours caft on fools get only fhame,
On Poets fhed, produce eternal fame;

Their generous breasts warm with a genial fire,
And more than all the Mufes can inspire.

* Dido.

+ Penelope.

JEALOUSY.