The gloffy White imbib'd a spreading Blot,
But on her Breast appear'd a Livid Spot:
The Cow rose flowly from her Confort's Side,
But when afar the grazing Bull she spy'd,
Frisk'd to the Herd with an impetuous haste,
And pleas'd, in new luxuriant Soil, her Taste.
Oh learn'd Diviner!

What may this vifionary Dream portend,
If Dreams in any future Truth can end.
The Prophet nicely weighs what I relate;
And thus denounces in the Voice of Fate:

That Heat you try'd to fhun i'th' fhady Grove, But fhunn'd in vain, was the fierce Heat of Love: The Cow denotes the Nymph, your only Care; For White's th' expreffive Image of the Fair; And you the Bull abandon'd to Defpair: The pecking Crow, fome bufie Bawd implies, Who with base Arts will foon feduce your Prize.

You faw the Cow to fresher Pastures range:
So will your Nymph for Richer Lovers change:

As mixing with the Herd, you saw her rove;

So will the Fair pursue promifcuous Love:

Soon will you find a foul Incestuous Blot,
As on the Cow you view'd the Livid Spot.

At this my Blood retir'd, with difmal Fright,. And left me pale as Death; my fainting Sight Was quite o'ercaft in dusky Shades of Night.

ΟΝ Α

Miscellany of POEMS.

TO BERNARD LINTOTT.

Ipfa varietate tentamus efficere ut alia aliis; quadam fortaffe omnibus placeant. Plin. Epist.

A

[Guelt,

S when fome skilful Cook, to please each
Would in oneMixture comprehend aFeast,

With due Proportion and judicious Care
He fills his Difh with diff'rent forts of Fare,
Fishes and Fowl deliciously unite,

To feast at once the Tafte, the Smell, and Sight.

So, Bernard, must a Miscellany be
Compounded of all kinds of Poetry;

The Mufes O'lio, which all Taftes may fit,
And treat each Reader with his darling Wit.
Wouldft

Wouldst thou for Miscellanies raise thy Fame;
And bravely rival Jacob's mighty Name,
Let all the Mufes in the Piece confpire,

The Lyrick Bard must strike th' harmonious Lyre;
Heroick Strains must here and there be found,
And Nervous Sense be fung in Lofty Sound;
Let Elegy in moving Numbers flow,

And fill fome Pages with melodious Woe;
Let not your am'rous Songs too num'rous prove,
Nor glut thy Reader with abundant Love
Satyr must interfere, whose pointed Rage
May lash the Madness of a vicious Age;
Satyr, the Muse that never fails to hit,
For if there's Scandal, to be fure there's Wit.
Tire not our Patience with Pindarick Lays,

Those fwell the Piece, but very rarely please:
Let short-breath'd Epigram its Force confine,
And strike at Follies in a fingle Line.

Tran

Translations should throughout the Work befown
And Homer's Godlike Muse be made our own;
Horace in useful Numbers should be Sung,
And Virgil's Thoughts adorn the British Tongue;
Let Ovid tell Corinna's hard Disdain,

And at her Door in melting Notes complain:
His tender Accents pitying Virgins move,
And charm the lift'ning Ear with Tales of Love.
Let every Claffick in the Volume shine,

And each contribute to thy great Design:

Through various Subjects let the Reader range, And raise his Fancy with a grateful Change; Variety's the Source of Joy below,

From whence still fresh revolving Pleafures flow. In Books and Love, the Mind one End pursues, And only Change th' expiring Flame renews.

Where Buckingham will condefcend to give, That honour'd Piece to distant Times muft live;