But here or there, turn wood or wire,
He never gets two inches higher.

So fares it with those merry blades,
That frisk it under Pindus' shades.
In noble fong, and lofty odes,
They tread on stars, and talk with gods ;
Still dancing in an airy round,
Still pleas’d with their own verses' sound;
Brought back, how fast foe’er they go,
Always afpiring, always low.

THE FLI E S. SAX, fire of insects, mighty Sol,

,
(A fly upon the chariot-pole
Cries out) what blue-bottle alive
Did ever with such fury drive ?
Tell, Belzebub, great father, tell,
(Says t'other, perch'd upon the wheel)
Did ever any mortal fly
Raise such a cloud of dust as I?

My judgement turn’d the whole debate :
My valour fav’d the finking state.
So talk two idle buzzing things ;
Toss up their heads, and stretch their wings.
But, let the truth to light be brought,
This neither spoke, nor t’other fought :
No merit in their own behaviour :
Both rais’d, but by their party's favour.

From From the GREEK.

GREAT Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire,

By native heat asserts his dreadful fire.
Nourish'd near fhady rills and cooling streams,
He to the nymphs avows his amorous flames.
To all the brethren at the Bell and Vine,
The moral says; mix water with your wine.

E Ꭱ Ꭺ

E PIG R A M.
FRA
FRANK carves very ill, yet will palm all the meats ;

He eats more than six, and drinks more than he eats.
Four pipes after dinner he constantly smokes ;
And seasons his whiffs with impertinent jokes.
Yet fighing, he says, we must certainly break;
And my

cruel unkindness compels him to speak ;
For of late I invite him but four, times a week.

}

a

Α Ν Ο Τ Η Ε R.

TO John I ow'd great obligation ;

But John unhappily thought fit,
To publish it to all the nation :

Sure Jolin, and I are more than quit.

Α Ν Ο Τ Η Ε R.

YES, every poet is a fool,

By demonstration Ned can show it.
Happy, 'could Ned's inverted rule

Prove every fool to be a poet.

Α Ν Ο Τ Η Ε R.

THY nags, the leanest things alive!

very

hard thou lov'st: to drive; I heard thy anxious coach-man say,

It cost thee more in whips, than hay.

So

To a Person who wrote Ill, and spoke Worse

against Me.

L

YE, Philo, untouch’d, on my peaceable shelf;

Nor take it amiss, that so little I heed thee : I've no envy to thee, and some love to myself: Then why should I answer ; since first I must read

thee?

Drunk with Helicon's waters and double-brew'd bub,

Be a linguist, a poet, a critic, a wag;
To the folid delight of thy well-judging club,

To the damage alone of thy bookseller Brag.

Pursue Pursue me with satire: what harm is there in 't?"

But from all viva voce reflection forbear :
There can be no danger from what thou shalt print :

There may be a little from what thou may'st swear.

a

On the same Person.
WHILE, faster than his costive brain indites,

Philo's quick hand in flowing letters writes :
His case appears to me like honest Teague's,..
When he was run away with by his legs.
Phoebus, give Philo o'er himself command;
Quicken his senses, or restrain his hand ;
Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink:
So may he cease to write, and learn to think..

Quid fit futurum cras fuge quærere
FOR
OR what to-morrow shall disclose,

-
May spoil what you to-night propose :
England may change; or Cloe stray:
Love and life are for to-day.

A BALLAD of the NoTBROWNE MAYDE.
Written three hundreds

years

fince *.

A. BE it ryght, or wrong, these men among on women

do complayne; Affyrmynge this, how that it is a labour spent in vayne;

To So Frior. - First printed about 1521, says Capel.

To love them wele, for never a dele thy love a man

agayne : For late a man do what he can, theyr favour to attayne, Yet, yf a newe do them pursue, theyr fyrft true lover

than
Laboureth for nought; for from her thought he is
a banyfhed man.

B.
I say nat, nay, but that all day it is bothe writ and fayd,
That womens fayth is, as who sayth, all utterly de-

cayed :
But, nevertheleffe, ryght good wytnèffe in this cafe

might be layed, That they love true, and continue; recorde the not

browne mayde; Which, when her love came, her to prove, to her to

make his mone,
Wolde nat depart; for in her hart the loved but hym
alone.

A.
Than betwayne us late us dyscus what was all the

manère
Betwayne them two; we wyll also tell all the payne,

and fere, That she was in : nowe I begyn, so that ye me an

swère ; Wherfore, all ye, that present be, I pray you gyve an

ere:

I am the knyght ; I come by nyght, as secret as I can
Sayinge, Alas, thus ftandeth the case, I am a banythed