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Bishop by his Neighbours hated

Has Caufe to wish himself translated.
But why fhou'd Hough defire Tranflation,
Lov'd and esteem'd by all the Nation?
Yet if it be the old Man's Cafe,

I'll lay my Life, I know the Place ?
'Tis where God fent fome that adore him,
And whither Enoch went before him.

STELLA's Birth-Day. 1718.

TELLA this Day is Thirty-four,

STELLA

(We fhan't difpute a Year or more:)
Howe'er, Stella, be not troubled,
Altho' thy Size and Years are doubled
Since firit I faw thee at Sixteen,
The brighteft Virgin on the Green.
So little is thy Form declin'd;
Made up fo largely in thy Mind.

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OH, wou'd it please the Gods, to split
Thy Beauty, Size, and Years, and Wit,
No Age could furnish out a Pair
Of Nymphs fo graceful, wife, and fair:
With half the Luftre of your Eyes,
With half your Wit, your Years, and Size.
And then, before it grew too late,

How fhou'd I beg of gentle Fate,

(That either Nymph might have her Swain,) To split my Worship too in twain.

STELLA's Birth-Day. 1720.

A

LL Travellers at firft incline

Where-e'er they see the fairest Sign ;

And if they find the Chambers neat,
And like the Liquor and the Meat,
Will call again, and recommend
The Angel-Inn to ev'ry Friend:
What tho' the Painting grows decay'd,
The House will never lofe its Trade:
Nay, tho' the treach'rous Tapfter Thomas
Hangs a new Angel two Doors from us,
As fine as Dawbers Hands can make it,
In Hopes that Strangers may mistake it,
We think it both a Shame and Sin,
To quit the true old Angel-Inn.

VOL. IV.

K

Now

Now, this is Stella's Cafe in Fact,
An Angel's Face, a little crack'd;
(Could Poets, or could Painters fix
How Angels look at Thirty-fix :)
This drew us in at firft, to find
In fuch a Form an Angel's Mind;
And ev'ry Virtue now supplies
The fainting Rays of Stella's Eyes.
See, at her Levee, crowding Swains,
Whom Stella freely entertains,

With Breeding, Humour, Wit, and Sense;
And puts them but to fmall Expence ;
Their Mind fo plentifully fills,

And makes fuch reasonable Bills,

So little gets for what the gives,
We really wonder how the lives!
And had her Stock been lefs, no doubt,

She must have long ago run out.

THEN who can think we'll quit the Place,
When Doll hangs out a newer Face;
Or ftop and light at Cloe's Head,
With Scraps and Leavings to be fed.
THEN Cloe, ftill go on to prate
Of Thirty-fix, and Thirty-eight;
Purfue your Trade of Scandal-picking,
Your Hints, that Stella is no Chicken.
Your Innuendo's, when you tell us
That Stella loves to talk with Fellows;

And

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And let me warn you to believe

A Truth, for which your Soul fhould grieve;
That fhould you live to fee the Day
When Stella's Locks muit all be grey,
When Age muft print a furrow'd Trace,
On ev'ry Feature of her Face;

Tho' you and all your fenfeless Tribe,
Could Art, or Time, or Nature bribe.
To make you look like Beauty's Queen,
And hold for ever at Fifteen;

No Bloom of Youth can ever blind
The Cracks and Wrinkles of your Mind
All Men of Senfe will pass your Door,
And crowd to Stella's at Fourfcore.

STELLA's Birth-Day. A great Bottle of Wine, long buried, being that Day dug up. 1722.

R

ESOLV'D my annual Verse to pay,
By Duty bound, on Stella's Day;

Furnish'd with Paper, Pens, and Ink,
I gravely fat me down to think :
I bit my Nails, and fcratch'd my Head,

But found my Wit and Fancy fled;

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Or, if with more than usual Pain,
A Thought came flowly from my Brain,
It coft me Lord knows how much Time
To shape it into Senfe and Rhyme;
And, what was yet a greater Curse,
Long-Thinking made my Fancy worse."
FORSAKEN by th' infpiring Nine,
I waited at Apollo's Shrine;

I told him what the World would fay
If Stella were unfung to Day;

How I fhou'd hide my Head for Shame,
When both the Jacks and Robin came;
How Ford would frown, how Jim would leer,
How Shr the Rogue would fneer,
And swear it does not always follow,
That Semel'n anno ridet Apollo.
I have affur'd them twenty Times,
That Phebus help'd me in my Rhymes,
Phabus infpir'd me from above,

And he and I were Hand and Glove.
But finding me fo dull and dry fince,
They'll call it all poetic Licence.
And when I brag of Aid divine,
Think Eufden's Right as good as mine.
Nor do I afk for Stella's Sake;
'Tis my own Credit lies at Stake.
And Stella will be fung, while I
Can only be a Stander by.

APOLLO

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