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And now the vomits forth the din
Nor yet those rites forswore.
Her, many a worthless knight, to wed,
Pursu'd in various shapes ; But she, tho' chusing not to lead,
Would not be led by- apes.
Roysters they were, and each a mere.
Penelope's gallant ;
And lov'd her into want.
See her by Walpole first address'd,
(But Walpole caught a tartar) Him while an ill-earn'd ribband grac'd,
She wore a nobler garter.
A pair of brothers next advance,
Alike for business fit :
And fpurn the Pelham bit.
But who comes next? O well I ken
Him playing fast and loose ;
Corinna's not a goofe.
See, last the man by heav'n design'd,
To make Corinna bleft; To ev'ry virtuous act inclin'd,
All patriot in his breast.
He woo'd the fair with manly sense,
And, flattery apart,
Subdu'd Corinna's heart,
her hand-but left her hand, So giv'n, should prove a curse, The priest omitted, by command,
“ For better and for worse.".
S T A N Z A S,
ADDRESSED TO NO MINISTER NOR GREAT MAX.
WITH all thy titles, all thy large estate,
And all the favours which a King can grant, Something is wanting fill to make Thee great,
And still that something THOU wilt ever want.
For is it greatness, at a sumptuous board
To fealt a county, and to hear thy name 'Mid noisy revels rictously roard,
When longer than the banquet lasts not fame?
Or is it greatness in the pomp of pow'r
Each morn a crowd obsequious to collect, Pleas'd to accept th'obeisance of an hour,
When with the levee endeth all respect !
He who is great, some nobler purpose Thews :
Nor feasts nor levees his attention claim : That which is fit and right he first pursues,
And afier finds it justify'd by fame.
What tho' a fawning academic train,
O shame to learning ! on thy footsteps wait ; Tho' fatt'ring muses in a courtly strain
Salutę Thee pillar of the British state ;
Yet in fair history's impartial page,
Penn'd nor in flatt’ring nor invective strain,
No ftatesman, but a courtier light and vain,
For hath Thy civil prudence well upheld
The state, 'gainst foreign or domeltic foe?
BY THEE averted Gallia's threaten'd blow;
Where was thy foresight, when the Gaul prepard
To seize the provinces of Albion's realm? *That foul disgrace with thee tho' OTHERS fhard,
Yet seiz'd they were when THOU Wert at the helm.
And tho' once more Britannia lifts her head,
By pow'rful nations sees herself rever'd,
T'assault that realm whence late affault she fear'd;
Yet from their deeds no honour THOU can't gain,
Tho' viet'ry's laurels should their brows entwine : For when did's Thou their arduous toils maintain ?
Or of their bold exploits which plan was Thine ?
Did'ft Thou secure the harvest of the land
Amid invasion's threat and war's alarm ?
Have fleets and armies by Thy orders mov'd
To diftant lands and oceans far remote ? And when success those orders hath approv'd,
Do crowds the wisdom and the spirit note ?
Yet in the triumph Thou assum'st a share,
Busthing, important, full of giddy zeal; And vainly fit'st with ministerial air,
A fly of state on glory's chariot-wheel.
S T A N Z A S.
ADDRESSED TO A GREAT MINISTER AND GRIAT MAN
WITH titles, honours, and a large estate,
And all a favour'd subject can pofless,
Or can envonom'd nander make thee less. ?
For fure 'tis greatness nobly to disdain
The high, rewards that wait the statesman's toils, And rather, with unsparing hand, to drain
Thy private wealth, than share the public spoils.
And sure 'tis greatness, to the Muse's choir
Thy foft'ring care and bounty to extend, With royal smiles her grateful train to fire,
And Atric grace with Spartan morals blend.