Nor wanting the dispersive bowl
Of cloudy weather in the foul,
I make (may heav'n propitious fend
Such wind and weather to the end)
Neither becalm'd, nor over-blown,
Life's voyage to the world unknown.

On the Reverend Mr. Laurence Echard's, and Bishop Gilbert Burnet's Hiftories.

G

[By the Same.]

IL's history appears to me
Political anatomy,

A cafe of skeletons well done,
And malefactors every one.

His fharp and strong incifion pen
Hiftorically cuts up men,

And does with lucid skill impart
Their inward ails of head and heart.
LAURENCE proceeds another way,
And well-drefs'd figures doth difplay:
His characters are all in flesh,

Their hands are fair, their faces fresh;

And

And from his fweet'ning art derive
A better scent than when alive :
He wax-work made to please the fons,
Whofe fathers were GIL's skeletons.

The SPARROW and DIAMOND.

A SONG. [By the Same.]

I.

Lately faw, what now I fing,

Fair Lucia's hand display'd;
This finger grac'd a diamond ring,
On that a sparrow play'd.

II.

The feather'd play-thing fhe carefs'd,
She ftroak'd its head and wings;

And while it nestled on her breast,
She lifp'd the dearest things.

III.

With chizzel bill a fpark ill fet

He loofen'd from the reft,

And fwallow'd down to grind his meat,

The eafier to digeft.

IV. She

IV.

She feiz'd his bill with wild affright,
Her diamond to descry :

"Twas gone! fhe ficken'd at the fight,
Moaning her bird would die.

V.

The tongue-ty'd knocker none might use,
The curtains none undraw,

The footmen went without their shoes,

The street was laid with ftraw.

VI.

The doctor us'd his oily art

Of strong emetick kind,
Th' apothecary play'd his part,

And engineer'd behind.

VII.

When phyfick ceas'd to spend its ftore

To bring away the stone,

Dicky, like people given o'er,

Picks up, when let alone.
VIII.

His eyes difpell'd their fickly dews,

He peck'd behind his wing; Lucia recov'ring at the news, Relapses for the ring.

IX. Mean

IX.

Meanwhile within her beauteous breast

Two different paffions ftrove;

When av'rice ended the contest,

And triumph'd over love.

X.

Poor little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Thy pains the fex display,

Who only to repair a ring

Could take thy life away!

XI.

Drive av'rice from your breafts, ye fair,
Monster of fouleft mein,

Ye would not let it harbour there,
Could but its form be seen.

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

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

OVE for amusement quitted oft his skies,

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

Miis Semele he pick'd up, as 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 tendereft time, which women know, 'tis faid,
Thus fhe bespoke the loving god in bed:

Thou, who gav'ft Dædalus his mazy art,
And knoweit all things but a woman's heart,
Hear my request for fomething 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 did the girl proceed.
In human guife, great Jove, eave off to rove,
Deceiving woman-kind, and pilf'ring love:

What