XIII. On Dr. Francis Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester, who died in exile at Paris, 1732.

[His only daughter having expired in his arms, immediately after she arrived in France to se e him.]

YES,

DIALOGUE.

SHE.

we have liv'd---One pang, and then we part! May heav'n, dear Father! now have all thy heart. Yet, ah! how once we lov'd, remember still, Till you are dust like me.

HE.

Dear shade! I will:

Then mix this dust with thine---O spotless ghost!
O more than fortune, friends, or country lost!
Is there on earth one care, one wish beside?

Yes---Save my Country, Heav'n---He said, and dy'd.

XIV. On Edmund Duke of Buckingham, who died in the nineteenth year of his age, 1735.

F

Ir modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd,
And ev'ry op'ning virtue blooming round,
Could save a parent's justest pride from fate,
Or add one patriot to a sinking state,
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear,
Or sadly told how many hopes lie here!

Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear;
Till death, unfelt, that tender frame destroy,
In some soft dream, or ecstacy of joy,
Peaceful sleep out the sabbath of the tomb,
And wake to raptures in a life to come.

EPISTLE VIII.

To Mr. Thomas Southern, on his birth-day, 1742.

RESIGN'D to live, prepar'd to die,
With not one sin but poetry.
This day Tom's fair account has run
(Without a blot) to eighty-one.
Kind Boyle, before his poet, lays
A table, with a cloth of bays;

And Ireland, mother of sweet singers,
Presents her harp still to his fingers.
The feast his tow'ring genius marks
In yonder wild-goose, and the larks!
The mushrooms shew his wit was sudden!
And for his judgment, lo, a pudden !
Roast beef, tho' old, proclaims him stout,

Walk to his grave without reproach,
And scorn a rascal and a coach.

20

THE BASSET-TABLE.

AN ECLOGUE.

CARDELIA, SMILINDA, LOVET.

CARDELIA.

THE Basset-table spread, the tallier come,
Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room?
Rise, pensive nymph! the tallier waits for you.
SMIL. Ah, Madam! since my Sharper is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpheu.

I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair,
And whisper with that soft deluding air,

[fair.

And those feign'd sighs which cheat the list'ning
CARD. Is this the cause of your romantic strains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains;
As you by love, so I by fortune crost;

One, one bad deal, three Septlevas have lost.

10

SMIL. Is that the grief which you compare with With ease the smiles of Fortune I resign: [mine? Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone, Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone.

CARD. A lover lost is but a common care, And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: The knave of clubs thrice lost; oh! who could guess This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress?

SMIL. See Betty Lovet! very a-propos,

She all the cares of love and play does know:

51

20

HORACE'S SATIRES, EPISTLES, AND ODES,

IMITATED.

Page

Advertisements,

Book II. Satire I. To Mr. Fortescue,

Book II. Satire II. To Mr. Bethel,

49,50

52

62

Book I. Epistle VII. imitated in the manner of

SATIRES OF DR. JOHN DONNE, DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S,

SMIL. But, ah! what aggravates the killing smart, The cruel thought that stabs me to the heart; This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing fair, By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear; She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears, She owes to me the very charms she wears. An awkward thing, when first she came to town, Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown: She was my friend; I taught her first to spread Upon her sallow cheeks enliv'ning red;

55

60

I introduc'd her to the Park and plays,
And by my int'rest Cozens made her stays.
Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert, 65
She dares to steal my fav'rite lover's heart.

CARD. Wretch that I was, how often have I swore,
When Winnall tally'd, I would punt no more?
I know the bite, yet to my ruin run,
And see the folly which I cannot shun.

70

SMIL. How many maids have Sharper's wows des How many curs'd the moment they believ'd? [ceiv'd? Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove; Ah! what is warning to a maid in love.

74

CARD. But of what marble must that breast be To gaze on Basset and remain unwarm'd? [form❜d, When kings, queens, knaves, are set in decent rank, Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank, Guineas, half-guineas, all the shìning train, The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain: In bright confusion open rouleaus lie, They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye.

80