Where on the summit Fortune stands,
A crown and sceptre in her hands;
Beneath a chasm as deep as Hell,
Where many a bold adventurer fell.
Desire in rapture gaz'd a while,
And saw the treacherous goddess smile;
But, as he climb'd to grasp the crown,
She knock'd him with the sceptre down!
He tumbled in the gulf profound;
There doom'd to whirl an endless round.
Possession's load was grown so great,
He sunk beneath the cumbrous weight:
And, as he now expiring lay,
Flocks every ominous bird of prey;
The raven, vulture, owl, and kite,
At once upon his carcass light,
And strip his hide, and pick his bones,
Regardless of his dying groans.
YE wise, instruct me to endure
An evil, which admits no cure;
Or, how this evil can be born,
Which breeds at once both hate and scorn.
Bare innocence is no support,
When you are try'd in Scandal's court.
Stand high in honour, wealth, or wit;
All others, who inferior sit,
Conceive themselves in conscience bound
To join, and drag you to the ground.
Your altitude offends the eyes
Of those who want the power to rise.
The world, a willing stander by,
Inclines to aid a specious lie:
Alas! they would not do you wrong;
But all appearances are strong!
Yet whence proceeds this weight we lay
On what detracting people say?
For let mankind discharge their tongues
In venom, till they burst their lungs,
Their utmost malice cannot make
Your head, or tooth, or finger ache;
Nor spoil your shape, distort your face,
Or put one feature out of place;
Nor will you find your fortune sink
By what they speak or what they think;
Nor can ten hundred thousand lies
Make you less virtuous, learn'd, or wise.
The most effectual way to baulk
Their malice, is—to let them talk.
THE FURNITURE OF A WOMAN'S MIND. 1727.
A SET of phrases learn'd by rote;
A passion for a scarlet coat;
When at a play, to laugh or cry,
Yet cannot tell the reason why;
Never to hold her tongue a minute,
While all she prates has nothing in it;
Whole hours can with a coxcomb sit,
And take his nonsense all for wit;
Her learning mounts to read a song,
But half the words pronouncing wrong;
Has every repartee in store
She spoke ten thousand times before;
Can ready compliments supply
On all occasions, cut and dry;
Such hatred to a parson's gown,
The sight will put her in a swoon;
For conversation well endued,
She calls it witty to be rude;
And, placing raillery in railing,
Will tell aloud your greatest failing;
Nor make a scruple to expose
Your bandy leg, or crooked nose;
Can at her morning tea run o'er
The scandal of the day before;
Improving hourly in her skill,
To cheat and wrangle at quadrille.
In choosing lace, a critic nice,
Knows to a groat the lowest price;
Can in her female clubs dispute,
What linen best the silk will suit,
What colours each complexion match,
And where with art to place a patch,
If chance a mouse creeps in her sight,
Can finely counterfeit a fright;
So sweetly screams, if it comes near her,
She ravishes all hearts to hear her.
Can dext'rously her husband tease,
By taking fits whene'er she please;
By frequent practice learns the trick
At proper seasons to be sick;
Thinks nothing gives one air so pretty,
At once creating love and pity;
If Molly happens to be careless,
And but neglects to warm her hairlace,
She gets a cold as sure as death,
And vows she scarce can fetch her breath;
Admires how modest women can
Be so robustious, like a man.
In party, furious to her power;
A bitter whig, or tory sour;
Her arguments directly tend
Against the side she would defend ;
Will prove herself a tory plain,
From principles the whigs maintain;
And, to defend the whiggish cause,
Her topics from the tories draws.
0 yes! ! if any man can find
More virtues in a woman's mind,
Let them be sent to Mrs. Harding;*
She'll pay the charges to a farthing s
Take notice, she has my commission
To add them in the next edition;
They may outsell a better thing:
So, halloo, boys; God save the king!
GOING TO BE HANGED. 1727.
As clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble was bawling,
Rode stately through Holborn to die in his calling,
He stopt at the George for a bottle of sack,
And promis'd to pay for it when he came back,
His waistcoat, and stockings, and breeches, were white;
His cap had a new cherry riband to tye't.
* Widow of John Harding, the Drapier's printer. F.
Prudes decay'd about may tack,
Strain their necks with looking back
Give me Time when coming on:
Who regards him when he's gone ?
By the Dean though gravely told
New years help to make me old;
Yet I find a new year's lace
Burnishes an old year's face:
Give me velvet and quadrille,
I'll have youth and beauty still.
WRITTEN AFTER THE NEWS OF THE KING'S DEATH.*
RICHMOND LODGE is a house with a small park belonging to the Crown. It was usually granted by the Crown for a lease of years. The Duke of Ormond was the last who had it. After his exile, it was given to the Prince of Wales by the king. The prince and princess usually passed their summer there. It is within a mile of Richmond.
MARBLE HILL is a house built by Mrs. Howard, then of the bed-
chamber, afterward countess of Suffolk, and groom of the stole to
the Queen. It is on the Middlesex side, near Twickenham, where
Mr. Pope lived, and about two miles from Richmond Lodge. Mr.
Pope was the contriver of the gardens, Lord Herbert the archi-
tect, the Dean of St. Patrick's chief butler and keeper of the ice-
house. Upon King George's death, these two houses met, and had
the following dialogue.
In spite of Pope, in spite of Gay,
And all that he or they can say ;
Sing on I must, and sing I will
Of Richmond Lodge and Marble Hill.
George I, who died after a short sickness by eating a melon, at Osnabrug, in his way to Hanover, June 11, 1727. The poem was carried to court, and read to King George II. and Queen Caroline. H.
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