Again you fail: yet Safe's the word ;

Or hire the party pamphleteers Take courage, and attempt a third.

To set Elysium by the ears. But first with care employ your thoughts

Then, poet, if you mean to thrive, Where critics mark'd your former faults ; Employ your Muse on kings alive : The trivial turns, the borrow'd wit,

With prudence gathering up a cluster The similes that nothing fit;

Of all the virtucs you can muster, The cant which every fool repeats,

Which, form'd into a garland sweet, Town jests and coffee-house conceits :

Lay humbly at your monarch's feet; Descriptions tedious, flat and dry,

Who, as the odors reach his throne, And introduc'd the Lord knows why :

Will smile, and think them all his own; Or where we find your fury set

For law and gospel both determine Against the harmless alphabet;

All virtnes lodge in royal ermine : On A's and B's your malice vent,

(I mean the oracles of both, While readers wonder whom you meant;

Who shall de pose it upon oath.) A public or a private rubber,

Your garland in the following reign, A slatesman, or a South-sea jobber ;

Change but the names, will do again. A prelate who no God believes ;

But, if you think this trade too base, A parliament or den of thieves ;

(Which seldom is the dunce's case,) A pick-purse at the bar or bench;

Put on the critic's brow, and sit A duchess, or a suburb-wench:

At Will's the puny judge of wit. Or oft, when epithets you link

A nod, a shrug, a scornful smile, In gaping lines to fill a chink;

With caution us’d, may serve awhile. Like stepping-stones to save a stride,

Proceed no further in your part, In streets where kennels are too wide ;

Before you learn the terms of art; Or like a heel-piece, to support

For you can never be too far gone A cripple with one foot too short;

In all our modern critic's jargon : Or like a bridge, that joins a marish

Then talk with more authentic face To moorlands of a different parish :

Of unities, in time and place ; So have I seen ill-coupled hounds

Get scraps of Horace from your friends, Drag different ways in miry grounds.

And have them at your fingers' ends; So geographers in Afric maps

Learn Aristotle's rules by rote, With savage pictures fill their gaps,

And at all hazards boldly quote ; And o'er unhabitable downs

Judicious Rymer oft review, Place elephants for want of towns.

Wise Dennis, and profound Bossu ; But, though you miss your third essay, Read all the prefaces of Dryden, You need not throw your pen away.

For these our critics much confide in, Lay now aside all thoughts of fame,

(Though merely writ at first for filling, To spring more profitable game.

To raise the volume's price a shilling.) From party-merit seek support;

A forward critic often dupes us The vilest verse thrives best at court.

With sham quotations peri hupsous ; A pamphlet in Sir Bob's defence

And if we have not read Longinus, Will never fail to bring in pence :

Will magisterially outshine us. Nor be concern'd about the sale,

Then, lest with Greek he overrun ye, He pays his workmen on the nail.

Procure the book for love or money, A prince, the moment he is crown'd,

Translated from Boileau's translation, Inherits every virtue round,

And quote quotation on quotation. As emblems of the sovereign power,

At Will's you hear a poem read, Like other baubles in the Tower;

Where Battus, from the table head, Is generous, valiant, just, and wise,

Reclining on his elbow-chair, And so continues till he dies :

Gives judgment with decisive air; His humble senate this professes,

To whom the tribe of circling wits In all their speeches, votes, addresses.

As to an oracle submits. But once you fix him in a tomb,

He gives directions to the town, His virtues fade, his vices bloom;

To cry it up or run it down; And each perfection wrong imputed,

Like courtiers, when they send a note Is fully at his death confuted.

Instructing members how to vote. The loads of poems in his praise,

He sets the stamp of bad and good, Ascending, make one funeral blaze:

Though not a word be understood. As soon as you can hear his knell,

Your lesson learn'd, you 'll be secure This god on Earth turns devil in Hell:

To get the name of connoisseur : And lo! his ministers of state,

And, when your merits once are known, Transform’d to imps, his levee wait;

Procure disciples of your own. Where, in the scenes of endless woe,

For poets (you can never want 'em) They ply their former arts below;

Spread through Augusta Trinobantum, And, as they sail in Charon's boat,

Computing by their pecks of coals, Contrive to bribe the judge's vote ;

Amount to just nine thousand souls: To Cerberus they give a sop,

These o'er their proper districts govern His triple-barking mouth to stop;

Of wit and humor judges sovereign. Or in the ivory gate of dreams

In every street a city-bard Project excise and South-sea schemes;

Rules, like an alderman, his ward ;

Appointed sovereign judge to sit
On learning, eloquence, and wit.
Our eldest hope, divine lülus,
(Late, very late, oh may he rule us !)
What early manhood has he shown,
Before his downy beard was grown!
Then think, what wonders will be done,
By going on as he begun,
An heir for Britain to secure
As long as Sun and Moon endure.

The remnant of the royal blood
Comes pouring on me like a flood :
Bright goddesses, in number five;
Duke William, sweetest prince alive.
Now sing the minister of state,
Who shines alone without a mate.
Observe with what majestic port
This Atlas stands to prop the court:
Intent the public debts to pay,
Like prudent Fabius, by delay.
Thou great vicegerent of the king,
Thy praises every Muse shall sing !
In all affairs thou sole director,
Of wit and learning chief protector ;
Though small the time thou hast to spare,
The church is thy peculiar care.
of pious prelates what a stock
You choose, to rule the sable flock!
You raise the honor of the peerage,
Proud to attend you at the steerage.
You dignify the noble race,
Content yourself with humbler place.
Now, learning, valor, virtue, sense,
To titles give the sole pretence.
St. George beheld thee with delight
Vouchsafe to be an azure knight,
When on thy breasts and sides Herculean
He fix'd the star and string cerulean.

Say, poet, in what other nation
Shone ever such a constellation !
Attend, ye Popes, and Youngs, and Gays,
And tune your harps, and strow your bays:
Your panegyrics here provide ;
You cannot err on flattery's side.
Above the stars exalt your style,
You still are low ten thousand mile.
On Lewis, all his bards bestow'd
Of incense many a thousand load;
But Europe mortified his pride,
And swore the fawning rascals lied.
Yet what the world refus'd to Lewis,
Applied to George, exactly true is.
Exactly true! invidious poet!
"Tis fifty thousand times below it.

Translate me now some lines, if you can,
From Virgil, Martial, Ovid, Lucan.
They could all power in Heaven divide,
And do no wrong on either side;
They teach you how to split a hair,
Give George and Jove an equal share.
Yet why should we be lac'd so straight?
I'll give my monarch butter-weight.
And reason good; for many a year
Jove never intermeddled here :
Nor, though his priests be duly paid,
Did ever we desire his aid;
We now can better do without him,
Since Woolston gave us arms to rout him.

Cætera desiderantur.

A DESCRIPTION OF A CITY SHOWER.

In imitation of Virgil's Georgics.-1710.
CAREFUL observers may foretell the hour
(By sure prgnostics) when to dread a shower.
While rain aepends, the pensive cat gives o'er
Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you'll find the sink
Strike your offended sense with double stink.
If you be wise, then go not far to dine ;
You 'll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine
A coming shower your shooting corns presage,
Old aches will throb, your hollow tooth will rage.
Sauntering in coffee-house is Dulman seen ;
He damns the climate, and complains of spleen.

Meanwhile the south, rising with dabbled wings
A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings
That swillid more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.
Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope,

While the first drizzling shower is borne aslope :
Such is that sprinkling which some careless quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not so clean:
You fly, invoke the gods; then, turning, stop
To rail; she, singing, still whirls on her mop.
Not yet the dust had shunnid th' unequal strise,
But aided by the wind, fought still for life;
And, wafted with its foe by violent gust,
'Twas doubtful which was rain, and which was dust
Ah! where must needy poet seek for aid,
When dust and rain at onee his coat invade!
Sole coat! where dust cemented by the rain
Erects the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain !

Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down,
Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
To shops in crowds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The Templar spruce, while every spout's abroach,
Slays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach.
The tuck’d-up sempstress walks with hasty strides,
While streams run down her oild umbrella's sides
Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a shed.
Triumphant Tories and desponding Whigs
Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.
Bor'd in a chair, the beau impatient sits,
While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits,
And ever and anon with frightful din
The leather sounds; he trembles from within.
So when Troy chairmen bore the wooden steed,
Pregnant with Greeks impatient to be freed,
(Those bully Greeks, wlo, as the moderns do,
Instead of paying chairmen, ran them through.)
Laocoon struck the outside with his spear,
And each imprison'd hero quak'd for fear.

Now from all parts the swelling kennels flow,
And bear their trophies with them as they go:
Filths of all hues and odors seem to tell
What street they sail'd from by their sight and smell.
They, as each torrent drives, with rapid force,
From Smithfield or St. 'Pulchre's shape their course,
And in huge confluence join'd at Snowhill ridge,
Fall from the conduit prone to Holborn bridge.
Sweepings from butchers' stalls, dung, guts, and

blood,
Drown'd puppies, stinking sprats, all drench'd in

mud, Dead cats, and turnip-topa, come tumbling down

the flood.

ܪ

sad;

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II.

very light:

But when I search'd, and miss'd my purse, Lord! I TO THE EARL OF OXFORD, LATE LORD TREASURER.

thought I should have sunk outright.

Lord ! madam, says Mary, how d'ye do? Indeed, Sent to him when in the Tower, 1617.

says I, never worse :

But pray, Mary, can you tell what I have done with How blest is he who for his country dies,

my purse? Since Death pursues the coward as he flies !

Lord help me! said Mary, I never stirr'd out of The youth in vain would fly from fate's attack,

this place : With trembling knees and terror at his back;

Nay, said I, I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's Though fear should lend him pinions like the wind,

a plain case. Yet swifter fate will seize him from behind.

So Mary got me to bed and cover'd me up warm: Virtue repuls'd, yet knows not to repine,

However, she stole away my garters, that I might But shall with unattainted honor shine;

do myself no harm. Nor stoops to take the staff,* nor lays it down, So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very Just as the rabble please to smile or frown.

well think, Virtue, to crown her favorites, loves to try

But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a Some new unbeaten passage to the sky;

wink. Where Jove a seat among the gods will give

So I was a-dream'd, methought, that we went and To those who die for meriting to live.

search'd the folks round, Next, faithful silence hath a sure reward;

And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes*8* box, tied in a rag, Within our breast be every secret barr'd!

the money was found. He who betrays his friend, shall never be

So next morning we told Whitlent and he fell aUnder one roof, or in one ship, with me.

swearing : For who with traitors would his safety trust,

Then my dame Wadgert came; and she, you know, Lest, with the wicked, Heaven involve the just ?

is thick of hearing. And, though the villain 'scape awhile, he feels

Dame, said I, as loud as I could bawl, do you know Slow vengeance, like a blood-hound, at his heels.

what a loss I have had ? Nay, said she, my Lord Colway's V folks are all very For my Lord Dromedaryll comes a Tuesday without

fail. MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION.

Pugh! said I, but that's not the business that I ail. 1699.

Says Cary, I says he, I have been a servant this five

and-twenty years, come spring, To their excellencies the lords justices of Ireland,t And in all the places I liv'd, I never heard of such the humble petition of Frances Harris,

a thing Who must slarve, and die a maid, if it miscarries ; Yes, says the steward, ** I remember, when I was

at my Lady Shrewsbury's, Humbly showeth,

Such a thing as this happen'd just about the time of That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty'sj

' cham

gooseberries. ber, because I was cold;

So I went to the party suspected, and I found her And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings,

full of grief, and sixpence, besides farthings, in money (Now, you must know, of all things in the world, I and gold :

hate a thief.) So, because I had been buying things for my lady However, I am resolv'd to bring the discourse slily last night,

about; I was resolv'd to tell my money, to see if it was Mrs. Dukes, said I, here's an ugly accident has right.

happen'd out: Now, you must know, because my trunk has a very 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a bad lock,

louse ;tt Therefore all the money I have, which, God knows, But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the is a very small stock,

house. I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next to 'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence,

makes a great hole in my wages : So when I went to put up my purse, as God would Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in

have it, my smock was unript, And, instead of putting it into my pocket, down it

slipt; Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady

* Wife to one of the footmen. to bed ;

† Earl of Berkeley's valet. And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe 1 The old deaf housekeeper. as my maidenhead.

$ Galway.

| The Earl of Drogheda, who, with the primate, was to

succeed the two earls. * The ensign of the lord treasurer's office.

Clerk of the kitchen. | The Earls of Berkeley and of Galway.

** Ferris. | Lady Betty Berkeley, afterwards Germaine. H An usual saying of hers.

my smock.

these ages.