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If Dreams in any future Truth can end.
166 Miscellaneous POEMS and
The glossy White imbib’d a spreading Blot,
But on her Breast appear'd a Livid Spot:
The Cow rose flowly from her Confort's Side,
But when afar the grazing Bull the fpy'd,
Frisk'd to the Herd with an impetuous hafte,
And pleas’d, in new luxuriant Soil, her Taste.
Oh learn'd Diviner!
What may this visionary Dream portend,

The Prophet nicely weighs what I relate;
And thus denounces in the Voice of Fate:

That Heat you try'd to shun i'th' fhady Grové, But shunn'd in vain, was the fierce Heat of Love: The Cow denotes the Nymph, your only Care; For White's th’expreslive Image of the Fair ; And you the Bull abandon'd to Despair : The pecking Crow, some busie Bawd implies, Who with base Arts will soon seduce your Prize.

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You saw the Cow to fresher Pastures range:
So will your Nymph for Richer Lovers change:
As mixing with the Herd, you saw her rove;
So will the Fair pursue promiscuous Love:
Soon will you find a foul Incestuous Blot,
As on the Cow you view'd the Livid Spot.

At this my Blood retir’d, with dismal Fright, And left me pale as Death; my fainting Sight Was quite, o'ercast in dusky Shades of Night.

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Miscellany of Poe m s.


Ipsa varietate tentamus efficere ut alia aliis; quedam fortaffe omnibus placeant.

Plin. Epift



S when some skilful Cook, to please each

[Guelt, Would in oneMixture comprehend aFeast, With due Proportion and judicious Care He fills his Dish with diff'rent sorts of Fare, Fishes and Fowl deliciously unite, To feast at once the Taste, the Smell, and Sight.

So, Bernard, must a Miscellany be
Compounded of all kinds of Poetry;
The Muses O’lio, which all Tastes may fit,
And treat each Reader with his darling Wit.



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Wouldst thou for Miscellanies raise thy Fame; And bravely rival Jacob's mighty Name, Let all the Muses in the Piecé conspire, The Lyrick Bard must strike th’harmonious Lyre; Heroick Strains must here and there be found, And Nervous Sense be sung in Lofty Sound; Let Elegy in moving Numbers flow, And fill some Pages with melodious Woe; Let not your am'rous Songs too num'rous prove, Nor glut thy Reader with abundant Love ; Satyr must interfere, whose pointed Ragę May lash the Madness of a vicious Age; Satyr, the Muse that never fails to hit, For if there's Scandal, to be sure there's Wit. Tire not our Patience with Pindarick Lays, Those swell the Piece, but very rarely please: Let short-breath'd Epigram its Force confine, And strike at Follies in a single Line.


Translations should throughout the Work besown:
And Homer's Godlike Muse be made our own;
Horace in useful Numbers should be Sung,
And Virgil's Thoughts adorn the British Tongue;
Let Qvid tell Corinna's hard Disdain,
And at her Door in melting Notes complain:
His tender Accents pitying Virgins move,
And charm the lift'ning Ear with Tales of Love.
Let every. Claffick in the Volume Shine,
And each contribute to thy great Design :
Through various Subjects let the Reader range,
And raise his Fancy with a grateful Change ;
Variety's the Source of Joy below,
From whence still fresh revolving Pleasures flow.
In Books and Love, the Mind one End pursues,
And only Change th'expiring Flame renews.

Where Buckingham will condescend to give, That honour’d Piece to distant Times must live

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