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By all this show, I ween, 'tis Lord Mayor's Day; I hear the sound of trumpet and hautboy. 45 No, now I see them near oh, these are they

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Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard whom long as lost we mourned, From siege, from battle, and from storm returned.

VII

Of goodly dames and courteous knights I view
The silken petticoat and broidered vest;
Yea, peers and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue
(True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast).
Others I see as noble and more true,

By no court badge distinguish'd from the rest:

55 First see I Methuen of sincerest mind, As Arthur grave, as soft as womankind.

VIII

What lady's that to whom he gently bends?

Who knows not her? Ah, those are Wortley's eyes. How art thou honoured, numbered with her friends; 60 For she distinguishes the good and wise. The sweet-tongued Murray near her side attends: Now to my heart the glance of Howard flies; Now Hervey, fair of face, I mark full well With thee, youth's youngest daughter, sweet Lepell.

IX

65 I see two lovely sisters hand in hand,

The fair-haired Martha and Teresa brown;

Madge Bellenden, the tallest of the land;

And smiling Mary soft and fair as down. Yonder I see the cheerful Duchess stand,

For friendship, zeal, and blithesome humours known: 70 Whence that loud shout in such a hearty strain?

Why, all the Hamiltons are in her train.

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How loved, how honoured thou! Yet be not vain!
And sure thou art not, for I hear thee say -
'All this, my friends, I owe to Homer's strain,

On whose strong pinions I exalt my lay.
What from contending cities did he gain?

And what rewards his grateful country pay? None, none were paid why then all this for me? These honours, Homer, had been just to thee.'

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MATTHEW PRIOR

AN ODE

THE merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure;
But Chloe is my real flame.

My softest verse, my darling lyre,

Upon Euphelia's toilet lay;

When Chloe noted her desire,

That I should sing, that I should play.

My lyre I tune, my voice I raise;

But with my numbers mix my sighs:
And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.

Fair Chloe blushed: Euphelia frowned:

I sung and gazed: I played and trembled:

And Venus to the Loves around

Remarked, how ill we all dissembled.

TO MR. HOWARD

AN ODE

DEAR Howard, from the soft assaults of Love,
Poets and painters never are secure;
Can I untouched the fair ones' passions move?
Or thou draw beauty, and not feel its power?

To great Appelles when young Ammon brought
The darling idol of his captive heart;
And the pleased nymph with kind attention sat,
To have her charms recorded by his art:

The am'rous master owned her potent eyes;

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Sighed when he looked, and trembled as he drew; 10 Each flowing line confirmed his first surprise, And as the piece advanced, the passion grew.

While Philip's son, while Venus' son was near,
What different tortures does his bosom feel!

Great was his rival, and the god severe :

Nor could he hide his flame, nor durst reveal.

The prince, renowned in bounty as in arms,

With pity saw the ill-concealed distress; Quitted his title to Campaspe's charms,

And gave the fair one to the friend's embrace.

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Thus the more beauteous Chloe sat to thee,

Good Howard, emulous of the Grecian art:
But happy thou, from Cupid's arrow free,

And flames that pierced thy predecessor's heart.

Had thy poor breast received an equal pain;

Had I been vested with the monarch's power; Thou must have sighed, unlucky youth, in vain; Nor from my bounty hadst thou found a cure.

Though to convince thee, that the friend did feel
A kind concern for thy ill-fated care,

I would have soothed the flame I could not heal;
Giv'n thee the world, though I withheld the fair.

TO CHLOE JEALOUS

A BETTER ANSWER

DEAR Chloe, how blubbered is that pretty face; Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurled: Prythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaff says) Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.

5 How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keeping? Those looks were designed to inspire love and joy:

More ord'nary eyes may serve people for weeping.

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