TO THE SUSPPOSED AUTHOR OF THE

SPECTATOR.

N courts licentious, and a fhameless stage,

IN

How long the war shall wit with virtue wage?
Inchanted by this prostituted fair,

Our youth run headlong in the fatal fnare;
In height of rapture clasp unheeded pains,
And fuck pollution through their tingling veins ?
Thy spotlefs thoughts unfhock'd the priest may hear;
And the pure vestal in her bofom wear.

To confcious blushes and diminish'd pride,

Thy glafs betrays what treacherous love would hide;
Nor harsh thy precepts, but infus'd by stealth,
Pleas'd while they cure, and cheat us into health.
Thy works in Chloe's toilet gain a part,
And with his tailor fhare the fopling's heart:
Lafh'd in thy fatire, the penurious cit
Laughs at himself, and finds no harm in wit:
From felon gamefters the raw fquire is free,
And Britain owes her refcued oaks to thee.
His mifs the frolic Viscount dreads to toast,
Or his third cure the fhallow Templar boast;
And the rash fool, who scorn'd the beaten road,
Dares quakes at thunder, and confefs his God.

The brainless stripling, who, expell'd the town,
Damn'd the stiff college and pedantic gown,
Aw'd by thy name, is dumb, and thrice a week
Spells uncouth Latin, and pretends to Greek.

A fauntering

A fauntering tribe! fuch born to wide estates,
With yea and no in fenates hold debates:
At length defpis'd each to his fields retires,
First with the dogs, and king amidst the squires ;
From pert to ftupid, finks fupinely down,

In youth a coxcomb, and in age a clown.

Such readers fcorn'd, thou wing'ft thy daring flight
Above the ftars, and tread'ft the fields of light;
Fame, heaven and hell, are thy exalted theme,
And vifions fuch as Jove himself might dream;
Man funk to flavery, though to glory born,
Heaven's pride when upright, and deprav'd his fcorn.
Such hints alone could British Virgil lend,

And thou alone deferve from fuch a friend;
A debt fo borrow'd is illuftrious fhame,

And fame when fhar'd with him is double fame.
So, flush'd with fweets by Beauty's Queen beftow'd,
With more than mortal charms Ancas glow'd:
Such generous frifes Eugene and Marlborough try,
And as in glory, fo in friendship vie.

Permit thefe lines by thee to live-nor blame
A Mufe that pants and languishes for fame;
That fears to fink when humbler themes fhe fings,
Loft in the mafs of mean forgotten things:

Receiv'd by thee, I prophefy, my rhymes,

The praife of virgins in fucceeding times:

Mix'd with thy works, their life no bounds shall see,

But ftand protected, as infpir'd, by thee.

So fome weak fhoot, which elfe would poorly rife, Jove's tree adopts, and lifts him to the skies;

Through

Through the new pupil foftering juices flow,

Thruft forth the gems, and give the flowers to blow.

Aloft; immortal reigns the plant unknown,

With borrow'd life, and vigour not his own.

TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE LORD PRIVYSEAL, ON THE PROSPECT OF PEACE.

"Fronde fuper Mitram, & felici comptus Oliva.”

TO THE LORD PRIVY SEAL.

VIRG.

ONTENDING kings, and fields of death, too long
Have been the fubject of the British song.

Who hath not read of fam'd Ramillia's plain,
Bavaria's fall, and Danube chok'd with flain!
Exhausted themes! a gentler note I raise,
And fing returning peace in fofter lays.
Their fury quell'd, and martial rage allay'd,
I wait our heroes in the fylvan fhade:
Dibanding hofts are imag'd to my mind,

And warring powers in friendly leagues combin'd,
While ease and pleasure make the nations smile,
And Heaven and Anna blefs Britannia's ifle.

Well fends our queen her mitred Bristol forth,
For early counfels fam'd, and long-try'd worth;
Who, thirty rolling years, had oft withheld
The Swede and Saxon from the dusty field;
Completely form'd to heal the Chriftian wounds,
To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds;
The face of ravag'd nature to repair,

By leagues to soften earth, and heaven by prayer,
To gain by love, where rage and slaughter fail,
And make the crofier o'er the fword prevail.

So when great Mofes, with Jehovah's wand,
'Had fcatter'd plagues o'er ftubborn Pharaoh's land,
Now fpread an hoft of locufts round the shore,
Now turn'd Nile's fattening ftreams to putrid gore;
Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God,
And sudden almonds fhot from Aaron's rod.

O thou, from whom thefe bounteous bleffings flow,

To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe,
(For next to thee, the man whom kings contend
To ftile companion, and to make their friend,
Great Strafford, rich in every courtly grace,
With joyful pride accepts the fecond place)
From Britain's ifle, and Ifis' facred fpring,
One hour, oh! liften while the Mufes fing.
Though minifters of mighty monarchs wait,
With beating hearts to learn their masters' fate,
One hour forbear to speak thy queen's commands,
Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected stands;

The

The blissful profpects, in my verfe display'd,
May lure the ftubborn, the deceiv'd persuade :
Ev'n thou to peace fhalt speedier urge the way,
And more be haften'd by this short delay.

ON THE PROSPECT OF PEACE.

THE haughty Gaul, in ten campaigns o'erthrown,

Now ceas'd to think the western world his own.
Oft had he mourn'd his boafting leaders bound,
And his proud bulwarks fmoking on the ground:
In vain with powers renew'd he fill'd the plain,
Made timorous vows, and brib'd the faints in vain ;
As oft his legions did the fight decline,

Lurk'd in the trench, and fkulk'd behind the line.
Before his eyes the fancied javelin gleams,

At feats he starts, and feems dethron'd in dreams;
On glory paft reflects with fecret pain,

On mines exhaufted, and on millions flain.

To Britain's Queen the fceptred fuppliant bends, To her his crowns and infant race commends, Who grieves her fame with Chriftian blood to buy, Nor afks for glory at a price fo high.

At her decree, the war fufpended stands,
And Britain's heroes hold their lifted hands,
Their open brows no threatening frowns difguife,
But gentler paffions fparkle in their eyes.

The Gauls, who never in their courts could find
Such temper'd fire with manly beauty joir'd,