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This was a Conqueft-At a single Spoil
To plunder half the Learning of our IS LE.

In Fields of Battle, where the Sword waftes wide,
And You, o'er Ruin heap'd, in Triumph ride;
Sedate the thinking Mind the Fate surveys,
of Creatures form'd to laft but half our Days:
And often feels a deeper Loss in one,
Mourning a PLATO, or an ADDISON.

Great BARD! what various Thoughts disturbed my

Head, When I beheld thee number'd with the Dead? Distinguish'd only by a decent Care, To say--what late Immortal Guest lodg d--there. Is this, I cry'd, then rose the Thoughts profane, But by thy Virtue check'd, recoil'd again « Such Pop'r the Ashes of the Virtuous crave, " To shoot a secret Influence from the Grave; “ Their Tombs are Ledures, and discharge the Trust ☆ Of living Eloquence from silent Duft.

Recover'd thus ; I view'd around me spread The Scepter'd Monarch and the Mitred Head; Kings more than dead, as seeming to accuse Thy Fate, and want of thy recording Muse.




TOLLY's formid to give Desire,

Complete in e’ry Feature; To enslave all Human Kind,

Lovely MOLLY was design'd, By Nature, by Nature, by Nature.


MOLLY long have I in vain

Address'd with humble Duty; But cruel MOLLY's scornful Eye

Says I must a Victim dye To Beauty. Our


Prithee Molly, grow more wise,

Or I for all my Sighing, May the cunning Lover play,

And consult a safer Way Than Dying, &c.



Spoken by

Mr. R Y A N,

On the first Time of his playing the


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FORONO OKO in the Drama shines,
And wildly great on Europe's Sense refines,
That be the Poet's Praiseman whose Magick

Could raise an EDEN in a barren Land,
If his Imoinda's Chaft and .beauteous too,
That Copy, LADIES, he transcrib'd from you.
The Actor's Part is last, then know the Share
He claims between the Poet, and the Fair.

If he has strove to please, your Favours first
Broke through Depression, and his own Distrust;
Studious to rise, he fought a wise Exchange,
For Slaves must drudge it on the Free will range.
The Bird confin'd may sing against his Will,
But the wild Musick is the sweetest still.

O! let us vary then our Notes with ease,
And pleasing, have Ambition more to please.
On you, ye shining FAIRS, our Cause depends,
For Beauties ever to Distress were Friends.
Orpheus raised Theatres, but greater You,
Can raise the Poet, and the Player too.


IMITATION of the Thirteenth Ode of the

Fourth Book of HORACE.

Audivere, Lyce, Di mea vota, &c.


UCY, at last, thank Heav'n, I trace

Old Age upon your wrinkled Face,
And yet you'll still be Strumming:
For this new Antick Tricks you play,
Stand at your Window all the Day,

Or on your Lure are Thrumming.

In vain Rose-water you bestow,
On Parts above, and Parts below,

To make them sweet and taking;
A Jew (so much the Tribe would fear you)
Would never venture to come near you,

You look so like Hung-Bacon.


PHYLLIS engroffes all our Hearts,
Her rofy Cheeks, her lovely Parts

Give Transports without Measure;
Love shoots his Arrows from her Eyes,
The winged Shaft unerring flies

And wounds the Heart with Pleasure.



But he disdains to come to you,
For what the Devil should he do

With Teeth as black as Soot?
With Looks that would poor Mortals Fright,
And such a Breath would put to Flight

Ten Thousands Horse and Foot.

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