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And told a melting Tale;

But all his Art

Ne'er touch'd her Heart, Nor could his Skill prevail:

Th' infulting Fair,

With fcornful Air,

Still mock'd the Love-fick Swain;

And as he Sigh'd,

She still reply'd,

She'd Pleasure in his Pain.

III.

The Shepherd fcorns,

No longer burns,

Neglecting all her Charms

The happy Swain

Forgets his Pain

In kinder Chloe's Arms:

Calia repents,

Her Heart relents,

Her Charms begin to fade;

Ill natur'd Time

Destroys her Prime,

She dreads to die a MAID.

ΟΝ

On a Large

Family-Piece:

Belonging to

Sir F-----s B----, Baronet.

HAT Pleasure strikes us, when the Pain-
ter's Art

Steals thro' the Eyes, and feizes on the
Heart:

Where Senfe lies ravifh'd at the Pencil's Stroke,

And Art the Pow'rs of Nature does invoke.
Where in one Portrait we diftinctly fee
The Num'rous Iffue of a Family,
With Beauty grac'd, and foft Humanity?

}

Here

Here, on the Parent, fmiles a Manly Grace,
And Goodness triumphs in the Mother's Face.
Maternal Care fits easy on her Brow,

While round, on ev'ry Side, her Children flow,
Here, near the Father, ftands his earliest Care,
The Beauteous Off-fpring of the Lovely Pair.
Next her the Joyous Iffue of a Son,

The Father's Image; and that one alone
Might not determine all their Earthly Bliss,
Heav'n has ordain'd to make a Trine of this.
Two Infants more the lovely Scene adorn,
As Bacchus jolly, blushing as the Morn.
The Modeft Twins, drefs'd by Judicious Skill,
Our Eyes at once with equal Pleasure fill.
Three Infant-Beauties ftill the Canvas grace,
With ev'ry Feature of each Parent's Face:
So lively drawn, so like in ev'ry Part,
'Tis hard to judge where Nature is, where Art.
To thee, Du Gard, this Fame is justly due,
Thou copy'ft not, for thou creat'st a-new :
Prometheus Fire fills thy capacious Soul,

Here are no Parts, for ev'ry Part's a WHOLE.

電電

SONG

A

SONG.

Swain long tortur'd with Difdain,

Who long had figh'd, but figh'd in vain,

At length the Go D of Wine addreft,

The Refuge of a wounded Breaft.

Vouchsafe, O Pow'r, thy Healing Aid,
Teach me to gain the Cruel Maid,
Thy Juices take the Lover's Part,

Flush his wan Looks, and chear his Heart,

Thus, to the Jolly GOD he cry'd, And thus the Jolly GoD reply'd; Leave whining off, be brisk and gay, And quaff thy fneaking Form away.

With dauntless Mein approach the Fair,
The way to conquer is to dare.
The Swain took now the GoD's Advice,
The Nymph was then no longer Nice;

But

But fmiling told her Sexes Mind,

"When you grow daring, we grow kind ;'
"Men to themselves are moft fevere,
"And make us Tyrants by their Fear.

On his Grace the Duke of MARLBOROUGH.

OT mighty Cafar did from Gallia come,

Loaded with more and greater Lawrels home,

When to the Capitol in Pomp he rode,

To offer up his Spoils to Mars his God;
The rude unwarlike Gauls, an eafy Prey

To Cafar's Valour fall, and foon gave way;

But when Thou fought'ft, the Art of War they knew,

Lefs Honour, Cafar, Sir, deferves than

you.

婆婆

THE

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