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Against our peace we arm our will:
Amidft our plenty, fomething still
For horfes, houses, pictures, planting,
To thee, to me, to him, is wanting.
The cruel fomething unpoffefs'd
Corrodes, and leavens all the reft.
That fomething, if we could obtain,
Would foon create a future pain:
And to the coffin, from the cradle,
'Tis all a Wifh, and all a Ladle.

Written at PARIS, 1700.

In the Beginning of ROBE'S GEOGRAPHY,

F all that William rules, or Robe
Defcribes, great Rhéa, of thy globe;
When or on post-horse, or in chaife,
With much expence, and little ease,
My deftin'd miles I fhall have gone,
By Thames or Maefe, by Po or Rhone,
And found no foot of earth my own;
Great Mother, let me once be able
To have a garden, house, and stable;
That I may read, and ride, and plant,
Superior to defire or want;

And as health fails, and years increase,
Sit down, and think, and die, in peace.
Oblige thy favourite undertakers

To throw me in but twenty acres :


This number fure they may allow ;
For patture ten, and ten for plow :
'Tis all that I could wish or hope,
For me and John, and Nell and Crop.
Then, as thou wilt, difpofe the rest
(And let not Fortune spoil the jest)
To those who, at the market-rate,
Can barter honour for eftate.

Now, if thou grant'st me my request,
To make thy votary truly bleft,
Let curft revenge and faucy pride
To fome bleak rock far off be tied;
Nor e'er approach my rural feat,
To tempt me to be base and great.

And, Goddefs, this kind office done,
Charge Venus to command her fon
(Where-ever else fhe lets him rove)
To fhun my house, and field, and grove:
Peace cannot dwell with Hate or Love.
Hear, gracious Rhéa, what I fay :
And thy petitioner shall pray.

Written in the Beginning of ME ZERAY'S
Hiftory of FRANCE.


WHATE'ER thy countrymen have done, By law and wit, by fword and gun,

In thee is faithfully recited :

And all the living world, that view
Thy work, give thee the praifes due,

At once inftructed and delighted.


II. Yet


Yet for the fame of all these deeds

What beggar in the Invalides,

With lameness broke, with blindness fmitten, Wish'd ever decently to die,

To have been either Mezeray,

Or any monarch he has written?


It's ftrange, dear author, yet it true is,
That, down from Pharamond to Louis,
All covet life, yet call it pain;
All feel the ill, yet fhun the cure:
Can fenfe this paradox endure?

Refolve me, Cambray, or Fontaine.

The man, in graver tragick known
(Though his best part long fince was done),
Still on the stage defires to tarry:
And he, who play'd the Harlequin,
After the jeft ftill loads the fcene,
Unwilling to retire, though weary.

Written in the Nouveaux Interêts des

BLEST be the princes, who have fought
For pompous names, or wide dominion;
Since by their error we are taught,

That happiness is but opinion!



ANIMULA vagula, blandula,

Hofpes, comefque corporis,

Quæ nunc abibis in loca,

Pallidula, rigida, nudula?

Nec, ut foles, dabis joca.


MA petite ame, ma mignonne,

Tu t'en vas donc, ma fille, & Dieu fache ou tù vas:
Tu pars feulette, nuë, & tremblotante, helas!

Que deviendra ton humeur folichonne ?
Que deviendront tant de jolis ébats ?


POOR, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Muft we no longer live together?
And doft thou prune thy trembling wing,
To take thy flight thou know'ft not whither?
Thy humourous vein, thy pleafing folly,

Lies all neglected, all forgot:

And, penfive, wavering, melancholy,

Thou dread'ft and hop'ft thou know'st not what,

A Paffage

A Paffage in the MORIA ENCOMIUM, of ERASMUS, imitated.

IN awful pomp, and melancholy state,

See fettled Reafon on the judgement-feat:

Around her croud Diftruft, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Forefight, and tormenting Care:
Far from the throne, the trembling Pleasures stand,
Chain'd up, or exil'd by her ftern command.
Wretched her fubjects, gloomy fits the queen;
Till happy Chance reverts the cruel scene;
And apifh Folly, with her wild refort
Of wit and jeft, difturbs the folemn court.
See the fantaftic minftrelly advance,
To breathe the fong, and animate the dance.
Bleft the ufurper! happy the furprize!
Her mimic poftures catch our eager eyes ;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear;
And in the fights we fee, and founds we hear,
Against our judgement, fhe our fenfe employs;
The laws of troubled Reason fhe destroys,

And in their place rejoices to indite

Wild fchemes of mirth, and plans of loofe delight.


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