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Criticks I read on other men,
And hypers upon them again;
From whofe remarks I give opinion
On twenty books, yet ne'er look in one.

Then all your wits that fleer and sham,
Down from Don Quixote to Tom Tram ;
From whom I jests and puns purloin,
And fily put them off for mine :
Fond to be thought a country wit :
The rest-when fate and you think fit.

Sometimes I climb my mare, and kick her
To bottled ale, and neighbouring vicar ;
Sometimes at Stamford take a quart,
Squire Shephard's health-With all my heart.

'Thus, without much delight or grief,
I fool away an idle life :
Till Shadwell from the town retires
(Choak'd up with fame and fea-coal fires),
To bless the wood with peaceful lyrick:
Then hey for praise and panegyrick;
Justice restor'd, and nations freed,
And wreaths round William’s glorious heads

To the COUNTESS of DORSET. Written in her Milton. By Mr. BRADBURY. SE

EE here how bright the first-born virgin shone,

And how the first fond lover was undone.
Such charming words, our beauteous mother spoke,
As Milton wrote, and such as yours her look.


Yours, the best copy of th' original face,
Whose beauty was to furnish all the race :
Such chains no author could escape but he ;
There 's no way to be safe, but not to fee.

To the Lady DURSLEY. On the same Subject. HE

ER E reading how fond Adam was betray'd,

And how by fin Eve's blasted charms decay'd ;
Our common loss unjustly you complain;
So small that
part of it, which you

You still, fair mother, in your offspring trace
The stock of beauty destin'd for the race :
Kind nature, forming them, the pattern took
From Heaven's first work, and Eve's original look.

You, happy saint, the serpent's power controul :
Scarce any actual guilt defiles your

foul :
And hell does o'er that mind vain triumph boast,
Which gains a Heaven, for earthly Eden lost.

With virtue strong as yours had Eve been arm’d,
In vain the fruit had blush'd, or ferpent charm'd;
Nor had our bliss by penitence been bought;
Nor had frail Adam fall'n, nor Milton wrote.

To my Lord BUCKHURST, very young,

playing with a Cat.
'HE amorous youth, whose tender breast

Was by his darling cat poffeft,
Obtain'd of Venus his defire,
Howe'er irregular his fire :



Nature the power of love obey'd,
The cat became a blushing maid ;
And, on the happy change, the boy
Employd his wonder and his joy.

Take care, O beauteous child, take care,
Left thou prefer so rash a prayer :
Nor vainly hope, the queen of love
Will e'er thy favourite's charms improve.
O quickly from her shrine retreat;
Or tremble for thy darling's fare.

The queen of love, who soon will see
Her own Adonis live in thee,
Will lightly her first lofs deplore ;
Will easily forgive the boar :
Her eyes with tears no more will low ;
With jealous rage her breast will glow :
And, on her tabby rival's face,
She deep will mark her new disgrace.

AN O. D E.


CHILE from our looks, fair nymph, you guess

The secret passions of our mind ;
My heavy eyes, you fay, confefs,
A heart to love and grief inclin'd.

There needs, alas! but little art,

To have this fatal secret found;
With the same ease you threw the dart;.
'Tis certain you may few the wound.

III. How

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How can I see you, and not love,

While you as opening cast are fair?
While cold as northern blasts you prove,
How can I love, and not despair

The wretch in double fetters bound

Your potent mercy may release :
Soon, if my love but once were crown'd,

Fair prophetess, my grief would cease.

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A S O N G.
N vain


tell your parting lover,
You wish fair winds may waft him over.
Alas! what winds can happy prove,
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Can equal those that I suitain,
From slighted vows, and cold disdain ?

Be gentle, and in pity choose
To with the wildest tempests loose :
That, thrown again upon the coast
Where first my shipwreck'd heart was loft,
I may once more repeat my pain ;
Once more in dying notes complain
of lighted vows, and cold disdain.

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ALEXIS funn’d his fellow-fwains,

Their rural.sports, and jocund strains : (Heaven guard us all from Cupid's bow!) He lost his crook, he left his flocks; And, wandering through the lonely rocks,

He nourish'd endless woe.

The nymphs and shepherds round him came :
His grief some pity, others blame ;

The fatal cause all kindly seek :
He mingled his concern with theirs ;
He gave them back their friendly tears ;

He sigh’d, but would not speak.

Clorinda came among the rest;
And she too kind concern exprest,

And ask'd the reason of his woe :
She ask'd, but with an air and mien,
That made it easily foreseen,

She fear'd too much to know..

The shepherd rais’d his mournful head;
And will you pardon me, he said,

While I the cruel truth reveal :
Which nothing from my breast should tear ;
Which never should offend your ear,

But that you bid me tell

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