The reverse, or, The comforts of a friend.





Thus Nature tun'd her mournful tongue
Till Grace iist up her head,
Revers'd the sorrow and the song,
And smiling thus she said :

“Were kindred spirits born for cares?
“Must ev'ry grief be mine?
“ Is there a sympathy in tears
" Yet joys refuse to join?”
3. Forbid it Fleav'n, and raise


And make our joys the same;
So bliss and friendship join'd above
Blix an immortal flame.

4. Sorrows are loft in valt delight
That brightens all the soul,
As deluges of dawning light
O'erwhelm the dusky pole.

5. Pleasures in long succession reign
And all iny pow’rs employ;
Friendship but thists the pleasing scene
And freth repeats the joy.

0. Life has a.soft and silver thread,
Nor is it drawn too long,
Yet when my valer hopes persuade
I'm willing to be gone.





7. Fast as you please roll down the hill
And halte away my years,
Or I can wait my Father's will
And dwell beneath the spheres.

8. Rise glorious ev'ry future fun,
Gild all my following days,
But make the last dear moment known
By welldistinguish'd rays.


To tbe Right Honourable John Lord Cuts to

At the frege of Namur.

The hardly soldier.


“Why is man so thoughtless grown,

Why guilty fouls in hastė to die? “ Vent’ring the leap to worlds unknown “Heedless to arms and blood they fly.

“ Are lives but worth a soldier's pay? Why will you join such wide extremes, “ And stake immortal fouls in play “ At desp'rate chance and bloody games?

3. “ Valour 's a nobler turn of thought " Whose pardon’d guilt forbids her fears;

Calmly she meets the deadly shot, " Secure of life above the stars,


* At the fiege of Namur.

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“But Phrenzy dares eternal Fate, “ And spurr'd with Honour's airy dreams “ Flies to attack th'infernal gate, “ And force a passage to the flames."

5. Thus hov'ring o'er Namuria's plains Surg heav'nly Love in Gabriel's form, Young Thrafo left the moving strains And vow'd to pray before the storm. 6. Anon the thund'ri

trumpet calls; " Vows are hut wind," the hero cries; Then swears by Heav'n, and scales the walls, Drops in the ditch, despairs and dies.



Burning several poems of Ovid, Martial, Oldham, Dry

den, $c. 1708.

I. I Judge the Muse of lewd desire, Her fons to darkness and her works to fire. In vain the flatt'ries of their wit, Now with a melting strain now with an heav'nly Would tempt my virtue to approve [flight, Those gaudy tenders of a lawless love.

6 So harlots drcís ; they can appear Sweet, modest, cool, divinely fair, To charm a Cato's eye, but all within Stench, impudence, and fire, and ugly raging fin. 10

Die Flora, die in endless shame,
Thou prostitute of blackest fame,
Stript of thy false array.
Ovid, and all ye wilder pens
Of modern luft who gild our scenes,

Poison the British stage and paint damnation gay,
Attend your mistress to the dead:
When Flora dics her imps should wait upon her fade.



Strephon t, of noble blood and mind, (For ever shine his name!) As death approach'd his soul refin'd, And gave his loofer fonnets to the fame : “ Burn, burn,” he cry'd, with sacred rage, “ Hell is the due of ev'ry page, “Hell be the face. (But 0! indulgent Heav'n 25 “ So vile the Muse and yet the man forgiv’n!) “ Burn on my fongs, for not the silver Thames, “ Nor Tiber with his yellow streams, " In endless currents rolling to the nain, Cane’er dilute the poifon or wash out the stains.” 30 So Moses by divine command Forbid the leprous house to stand When deep the fatal spot was grown; “ Break down ihe timber and dig up the stone." 34

• Fazlo? Recheiter.

To Mrs. B. Bendif.

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Against tears, 1699. MADAM, persuade me tears are good To wash our mortal cares away, These eyes shall weep a sudden flood, And stream into a briny fea.

2. Or if these orbs are hard and dry,
(These orbs that never use to rain)
Some star direct me where to buy
One sov’reign drap for all my pain.

3. Were both the golden Indies mine
I'd give both Indies for a cear;
I'd barter all but what's divine,
Nor shall I think the bargain dear.

4. But tears, alas! are trifling things,
They rather feed than heal our wo;
From trickling eyes new sorrow springs,
As weeds in rainy seasons grow.

5. Thus weeping urges weeping on;
In vain our mis'ries hope relief,
For one drop calls another down
Till we are drown'd in seas of grief.

6. Then let these useless streams be staid,
Wear native courage on your face;
These vulgar things were never made
For fouls of a superiour race.





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