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Merchants unloaded here their freight,
Here first their entry made.
Her learning and good breeding such,
Spaniard or French came to her ;
'Twas S'il vous plait, Monsieur.
Obscure by birth, renown’d by crimes,
At length she turns a bride :
And flutters in her pride.
So have I known those insects fair,
Still vary shapes and dyes;
Then painted butterflies.
is allowed by all persons of taste and judgment, ta be such a master-piece in its kind, that it must abide the test of all future ages. Swift.
Jove sent, and found far in a country-scene
To the Honourable Mrs Finch, afterwards Countess
of WinCHELSEA, under her name of Ardelia.
Written in the year 1707.
PHOEBUS, now short’ning ev'ry hade;
Up to the northern tropic came,
Attending on a royal dame.
Then lighted from his glitt'ring coach ;
Before he durft the nymph approach.
Under those sacred leaves, secure
From common lightning of the skies, He fondly thought he might endure
The flashes of Ardelia's eyes.
The nymph, who oft had read in books
Of that bright god whom bards invoke, Soon knew Apollo by his looks,
And guess’d his basʼness ere he fpoke.
He in the old celestial cant
Confessd his flame, and swore by Styx Whate'er she would desire to grant
But wife Ardelia knew his tricks.
Ovid had warn'd her to beware
Of ftrolling gods, whose usual trade is, Under pretence of taking air,
To pick up sublunary ladies.
Howe'er, she gave no Alat deniai,
As having malice in her heart; And was refolv'd, upon a trial,
To cheat the god in his own art: Hear my request, the virgin said:
Let which I please of all the Nine Attend, whene'er I want their aid,
Obey my call, and only mine.
By vow oblig'd, by passion led,
The god could not refuse her pray'r: He wav'd his wreath thrice o'er her head,
Thrice mutter'd something to the air.
And now he thought to seize his due :
But she the charm already tried : Thalia heard the call, and flew
To wait at bright Ardelia's side. On sight of this celestial prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay ; Nor in her presence durst be rude ;
But made his leg, and went away. He hop'd to find some lucky hour,
When on their queen the mufes wait : But Pallas owns Ardelia's pow'r;
For vows divine are kept by fate.
And last, my vengeance to complete,
descend to take renown, Prevail'd on by the thing you hate,
A Whig*, and one that wears a gown..
To Lady WINCHELSEA.
Occafioned by four satirical verses on women-wits in
Tbe rape of the lock.
IN vain you
boaft poetic names of yore,
5 I knew Ardelia could not quote the best ;
To understand what the Doctor meaneth by a Whig in this pallage, confult vol. üü. p.231. 1. 27. & r.
Who, like her mistrefs on Britannia's throne,
E PI G R A M.
A Bishop by his neighbours hated,
Has cause to wish himself translated :
Yet, if it be the old man's case,
STELLA's BIRTH-DAY, 1718.
STELLA this day is thirty-four,
(We sha'n't dispute a year or more) :
Oh, would it please the gods to split
could furnish out a pair