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The grappling hook plucks rafters from the walls,

Did I not see thee when thou first set'st sail

To seek adventures fair in Homer's land? And heaps on heaps the smoaky ruin falls; Blown by strong winds, the fiery tempest roars,

Did I not see thy sinking spirits fail, Bears down new walls, and pours along the floors;

And wish thy bark had never left the strand? The Heavens are all a-blaze, the face of night

Ev’n in mid ocean often didst thou quail, Is cover'd with a sanguine dreadful light.

And oft lift up thy holy eye and hand, 'Twas such a light involv'd thy towers, O Rome !

Praying the virgin dear, and saintly choir,
The dire presage of mighty Cæsar's doom,

Back to the port to bring thy bark entire.
When the sun veil'd in rust his mourning head,
And frightful prodigies the skies o'erspread.

Cheer up, my friend! thy dangers now are o'er; Hark! the drum thunders! far, ye crowds retire;

Methinks—nay, sure the rising coasts appear; Behold! the ready match is tipt with fire,

Hark! how the guns salute from either shore, The nitrous store is laid, the smutty train

As thy trim vessel cuts the Thames so fair: With running blaze awakes the barrel'd grain ;

Shouts answering shouts from Kent and Essex roar, Flames sudden wrap the walls; with sullen sound

And bells break loud through every gust of air: The shatter'd pile sinks on the smoaky ground.

Bonfires do blaze, and bones and cleavers ring, So, when the years shall have revolv'd the date,

As at the coming of some mighty king. Th’inevitable hour of Naples' fate, Her sap'd foundations shall with thunders shake, Now pass we Gravesend with a friendly wind, And heave and toss upon the suphurous lake;

And Tilbury's white fort, and long Blackwall; Earth's womb at once the fiery flood shall rend,

Greenwich, where dwells the friend of human kiod, And in th' abyss her plunging towers descend. More visited than or her park or hall.

Consider, reader, what fatigues I've known, Withers the good, and (with him ever join'd) The toils, the perils of the wintery town;

Facetious Disney, greet thee first of all: What riots seen, what bustling crowds I bore, I see his chimney smoke, and hear him say, How oft I cross'd where carts and coaches roar; Duke! that's the room for Pope, and that for Gay Yet shall I bless my labours, if mankind Their future safety from my dangers find.

Come in, my friends! here shall ye dine and lie, Thus the bold traveller, inur'd to toil,

And here shall breakfast, and here dine again; Whose steps have printed Asia's desert soil, And sup and breakfast on (if ye comply), The barbarous Arabs' haunt; or shivering crost

For I have still some dozens of champaign: Dark Greenland's mountains of eternal frost; His voice still lessens as the ship sails by; Whom Providence in length of years restores

He waves his hand to bring us back in vain; To the wish'd harbour of his native shores,

For now I see, I see proud London's spires; Sets forth his journals to the public view,

Greenwich is lost, and Deptford dock retires. To caution, by his woes, the wandering crew.

And now complete my generous labours lie, Oh, what a concourse swarms on yonder quay! Finish'd, and ripe for immortality.

The sky re-echoes with new shouts of joy; Death shall entomb in dust this mouldering frame,

By all this show, I ween, 'tis Lord Mayor's-day; But never reach th' eternal part, my fame.

I hear the voice of trumpet and hautboy:When W— and G-nighty names ! are dead;

No, now I see them near.-Oh, these are they Or but at Chelsea under custards read;

Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Tror. When critics crazy bandboxes repair,

Hail to the bard, whom long as lost we moura'd; And tragedies, turn'd rockets, bounce in air; From siege, from battle, and from storm, return'd! High rais'd on Fleet-street posts, consign’d to fame, This work shall shine, and walkers bless my name.

Of goodly dames, and courteous knights, I view

The silken petticoat, and broider'd vest;

Yea peers, and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue EPISTLE TO MR. POPE,

(True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast). Others I see, as noble and more true,

By no court-badge distinguish'd from the rest: HOMER'S ILIAD.

First see I Methuen, of sincerest mind,

As Arthur grave, as soft as womankind. A Welcome from Greece. Long hast thou, friend! been absent from my soil, What lady's that, to whom he gently bends: [eyes: Like patient Ithacus at siege of Troy ;

Who knows not her? ah ! those are Wortley's I have been witness of thy six years toil,

How art thou honour'd, number'd with her friends! Thy daily labours, and thy night's annoy,

For she distinguishes the good and wise. Lost to thy native land, with great turmoil, The sweet-tongu'd Murray near her side attends;

On the wide sea, oft threatening to destroy: Now to my heart the glance of Howard flies; Methinks with thee I've trod Sigæan ground, Now Harvey, fair of face, I mark full well, And heard the shores of Hellespont resound. With thee,youth's youngest daughter, sweet Lepell.

ON HIS HAVING FINISHED HIS TRANSLATION OF

I see two lovely sisters, hand in hand,

Arbuthnot there I see, in physic's art, The fair-hair'd Martha, and Teresa brown;

As Galen learn’d, or famed Hippocrate; Madge Bellenden, the tallest of the land;

Whose company drives sorrow from the heart, And smiling Mary, soft and fair as down.

As all disease his medicines dissipate : Yonder I see the cheerful duchess stand, [known: Kneller amid the triumph bears his part,

For friendship, zeal, and blithesome humours Who could (were mankind lost) a new create: Whence that loud shout in such a hearty strain ? What can th' extent of his vast soul confine? Why, all the Hamiltons are in her train.

A painter, critic, engineer, divine ! See next the decent Scudamore advance,

Thee Jervas hails, robust and debonair, [cries: With Winchelsea, still meditating song:

Now have (we) conquer'd Homer, friends, he With her perhaps Miss Howe came there by chance, Darteneuf, grave joker, joyous Ford is there, Nor knows with whom or why she comes along.

And wondering Maine, so fat with laughing eyes, Far off from these see Santlow, fam'd for dance; (Gay, Maine, and Cheney, boon companions dear, And frolic Bicknell, and her sister young;

Gay fat, Maine fatter, Cheney huge of size) With other names, by me not to be nam’d,

Yea Dennis, Gildon (hearing thou hast riches), Much lov'd in private, not in public fam’d!

And honest, hatless Cromwell, with red breeches. But now behold the female band retire,

O Wanley, whence com'st thou with shorten'd hair, And the shrill music of their voice is still'd!

And visage from thy shelves with dust besprent? Methinks I see fam’d Buckingham admire,

“ Forsooth (quoth he) from placing Homer there, That in Troy's ruin thou hadst not been kill'd, For ancients to compyle is myne entente: Sheffield, who knows to strike the living lyre

Of ancients only hath Lord Harley care; With hand judicious, like thy Homer skill'd; But hither me hath my meeke lady sent:Bathurst impetuous hastens to the coast,

In manuscript of Greeke rede we thilke same, Whom you and I strive who shall love the most. But book yprint best plesyth myn gude dame."

Yonder I see, among th' expecting crowd, See generous Burlington, with goodly Bruce

Evans with laugh jocose, and tragic Young; (But Bruce comes wafted in a soft sedan ;) Dan Prior next, belov'd by every Muse ;

High-buskin'd Booth, grave Mawbert, wandering

Frowde, And friendly Congreve, unreproachful man!

And Titcomb's belly waddles slow along. (Oxford by Cunningham bath sent excuse;)

See Digby faints at Southerne talking loud, See hearty Watkins comes with cup and can;

Yea Steele and Tickell mingle in the throng: And Lewis, who has never friend forsaken ;

Tickell, whose skiff (in partnership they say) And Laughton whispering asks—Is Troy town taken?

Set forth for Greece, but founder'd in the way. Earl Warwick comes, of free and honest mind;

Lo, the two Doncastles in Berkshire known! Bold, generous Craggs, whose heart was ne'er

Lo Bickford, Fortescue, of Devon land ! disguis'd:

Lo Tooker, Eckershall, Sykes, Rawlinson ! Ah why, sweet St. John, cannot I thee find!

See hearty Morley takes thee by the hand; St. John, for every social virtue priz'd.

Ayrs, Graham, Buckridge, joy thy voyage done; Alas! to foreign climates he's confin’d,

But who can count the leaves, the stars, the sand ? Or else to see thee here I well surmis'd:

Lo Stoner, Fenton, Caldwell, Ward, and Broome! Thou too, my Swift, dost breathe Bæotian air;

Lo thousands more ; but I want rhyme and room! When wilt thou bring back wit and humour here?

How lov'd! how honour'd thou ! yet be not vain : Harcourt I see, for eloquence renown'd,

And sure thou art not, for I hear thee say, The mouth of justice, oracle of law!

All this, my friends, I owe to Homer's strain, Another Simon is beside him found,

On whose strong pinions I exalt my lay. Another Simon, like as straw to straw.

What from contending cities did he gain? How Lansdown smiles, with lasting laurel crown'd! And what rewards his grateful country pay?

What mitred prelate there commands our awe? None, none were paid -why then all this for me? See Rochester approving nods his head,

These honours, Homer, had been just to thee. And ranks one modern with the mighty dead.

Carleton and Chandos thy arrival grace;

Hanmer, whose eloquence th' unbiass'd sways; Harley, whose goodness opens in his face,

And shows his heart the seat where virtue stays.
Ned Blount advances next, with busy pace,

In haste, but sauntering, hearty in his ways:
I see the friendly Carylls come by dozens, [sins.
Their wives, their uncles, daughters, sons, and cou-

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William, who high upon the yard

Undid creation at a jirk, Rock'd with the billows to and fro,

And of redemption made damn'd work. Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

Then took his Muse at once and dipt her He sigh'd and cast his eyes below:

Full in the middle of the Scripture. The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, What wonders there the man, grown old, did? And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands. Sternhold himself, he out-Sternholded.

Made David seem so mad and freakish, So the sweet lark, high pois’d in air,

All thought him just what thought king Achish. Shuts close his pinions to his breast

No mortal read his Solomon, (If chance his mate's shrill call he hear),

But judg'd Re'boam his own son. And drops at once into her nest.

Moses he serv'd as Moses Pharoah, The noblest captain in the British fleet

And Deborah, as she Sise-rah: Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

Made Jeremy full sore to cry, O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

And Job himself curse God and die. My vows shall ever true remain;

What punishment all this must follow? Let me kiss off that falling tear;

Shall Arthur use him like King Tollo? We only part to meet again.

Shall David as Uriah slay him? Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be Or dext'rous Deborah Sisera-him? The faithful compass that still points to thee. Or shall Eliza lay a plot,

To treat him like her sister Scot?
Believe not what the landmen say,

Shall William dub his better end,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind.
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

Or Marlborough serve him like a friend?

No!-none of these !-Heaven spare his life!
In every port a mistress find:
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,

But send him, honest Job, thy wife!
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
If to fair India's coast we sail,

FABLES.
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,

THE EAGLE AND THE ASSEMBLY OP ANIMALS. Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, Thy skin is ivory so white.

As Jupiter's all-seeing eye Thus every beauteous object that I view,

Survey'd the worlds beneath the sky, Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

From this small speck of earth were sent

Murmurs and sounds of discontent ; Though battle call me from thy arms,

For every thing alive complain'd, Let not my pretty Susan mourn;

That he the hardest life sustain'd. Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms,

Jove calls his eagle. At the word, William shall to his dear return.

Before him stands the royal bird. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,

The bird, obedient, from heaven's height, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.

Downward directs his rapid fight; The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

Then cited every living thing, The sails their swelling bosom spread;

To hear the mandates of his king. No longer must she stay aboard:

“ Ungrateful creatures ! whence arise They kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head. These murmurs which offend the skies? Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land:

Why this disorder? say the cause; Adieu! she cries; and wav'd her lily hand. For just are Jove's eternal laws.

Let each his discontent reveal;

To yon sour dog I first appeal."
VERSES

“ Hard is my lot, (the hound replies;)

On what fleet nerves the greyhound flies! To be placed under the Picture of SIR RICHARD

While I, with weary step and slow, BLACKMORE, England's Arch-Poet, containing a

O'er plains, and vales, and mountains, go. complete Catalogue of his Works.

The morning sees my chase begun, See who ne'er was nor will be half read:

Nor ends it till the setting sun." Who first sang Arthur, than sang Alfred,

“When (says the greyhound) I pursue, Prais'd great Eliza in God's anger,

My game is lost, or caught in view; Till all true Englishmen cry'd, Hang her!

Beyond my sight the prey's secure; Made William's virtues wipe the bare a

The hound is slow but always sure;
And hang'd up Marlborough in arras;

And, had I his sagacious scent,
Then, hiss'd from earth, grew heavenly quite ; Jove ne'er had heard my discontent."
Made every reader curse the light:

The lion crav'd the fox's art;
Maul'd human wit in one thick satire,

The fox the lion's force and heart: Next in three books spoil'd human nature ;

The cock implor'd the pigeon's flight,

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THE MISER AND PLUTUS.

Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light: And every shocking vice beside ;
The pigeon strength of wing despis'd,

But, when to virtuous hands 'tis given, And the cock's matchless valour priz'd.

It blesses, like the dews of heaven: The fishes wish'd to graze the plain ;

Like heaven, it hears the orphan's cries, The beasts, to skim beneath the main.

And wipes the tears from widows' eyes. Thus, envious of another's state,

Their crimes on gold shall misers lay, Each blam'd the partial hand of fate.

Who pawn'd their sordid souls for pay? The bird of heaven then cry'd aloud ;

Let bravos, then, when blood is spilt, “ Jove bids disperse the murmuring crowd;

Upbraid the passive sword with guilt." The god rejects your idle prayers.

THE LION, THE FOX, AND THE GEESE. Would ye, rebellious mutineers ! Entirely change your name and nature,

A lion, tir'd with state-affairs, And be the very envy'd creature?

Quite sick of pomp, and worn with cares, What! silent all, and none consent?

Resolv'd (remote from noise and strife) Be happy, then, and learn content

In peace to pass his latter life. Nor imitate the restless mind,

It was proclaim'd; the day was set;
And proud ambition, of mankind.”

Behold the general council met.
The fox was viceroy nam'd. The crowd

To the new regent humbly bow'd.
The wind was high, the window shakes,

Wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend, With sudden start the miser wakes ;

And strive who most shall condescend. Along the silent room he stalks,

He straight assumes a solemn grace, Looks back, and trembles as he walks.

Collects his wisdom in his face. Each lock and every bolt he tries,

The crowd admire his wit, his sense; In every creek and corner pries;

Each word hath weight and consequence. Then opes the chest with treasure stor'd,

The flatterer all his art displays: And stands in rapture o'er his hoard.

He who hath power is sure of praise. But now, with sadden qualms possest,

A fox stept forth before the rest, He wrings his hands, he beats his breast,

And thus the servile throng addrest: By conscience stung, he wildly stares,

“ How vast his talents, born to rule, And thus his guilty soul declares:

And train'd in virtue's honest school ! “ Had the deep earth her stores cónfin'd,

What clemency his temper sways ! This heart had known sweet peace of mind.

How uncorrupt are all his ways! But virtue's sold. Good gods! what price

Beneath his conduct and command, Can recompense the pangs of vice!

Rapine shall cease to waste the land. O bane of good!' seducing cheat!

His brain hath stratagem and art; Can man, weak man, thy power defeat ?

Prudence and mercy rule his heart. Gold banish'd honour from the mind,

What blessings must attend the nation And only left the name behind;

Under this good administration." Gold sow'd the world with every ill ;

He said. A goose who distant stood, Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill :

Harangu'd apart the cackling brood : 'Twas gold instructed coward-hearts

“ Whene'er I hear a knave commend, In treachery's more pernicious arts.

He bids me shun his worthy friend. Who can recount the mischiefs o'er?

What praise! what mighty commendation! Virtue resides on earth no more !”

But 'twas a fox who spoke th' oration. He spoke, and sigh'd. In angry mood

Foxes this government may prize, Plutus, his god, before him stood.

As gentle, plentiful and wise ; The miser, trembling, lock'd his chest:

If they enjoy the sweets, 'tis plain The vision frown'd, and thus address'd:

We geese must feel a tyrant reign. “ Whence is this vile ungrateful rant,

What havoc now shall thin our race, Each sordid rascal's daily cant?

When every petty clerk in place, Did I, base wretch! corrupt mankind ?

To prove his taste, and seem polite, The fault's in thy rapacious mind.

Will feed on geese both noon and night!” Because my blessings are abus'd,

THE MONKEY WHO HAD SEEN THE WORLD. Must I be censur’d, curs’d, accus'd ? Ev'n virtue's self by knaves is made

A monkey, to reform the times, A cloak to carry on the trade;

Resolv'd to visit foreign climes ; And power (when lodg'd in their possession) For men in distant regions roam, Grows tyranny, and rank oppression.

To bring politer manners home. Thus, when the villain crams his chest,

So forth he fares, all toil defies: Gold is the canker of the breast;

Misfortune serves to make us wise. 'Tis avarice, insolence, and pride,

At length the treacherous snare was laid;

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Poor Pug was caught; to town convey'd;

Proficient in the toilette's duty; There sold. (How envy'd was his doom,

Had form’d her sleeve, confin'd her hair, Made captive in a lady's room !)

Or given her knot a smarter air ; Proud, as a lover, of his chains,

Now nearest to her heart was plac'd, He day by day her favour gains.

Now in her mantua's tail disgrac'd: Whene'er the duty of the day

But could she partial fortune blame, The toilette calls, with mimic play

Who saw her lovers serv'd the same ? He twirls her knots, he cracks her fan,

At length from all her honours cast, Like any other gentleman.

Through various turns of life she past; In visits too, his parts and wit,

Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm, When jests grew dull, were sure to hit.

Now kept a beggar's infant warm; Proud with applause he thought his mind

Now, rang’d within a miser's coat, In every courtly art refin'd;

Contributes to his yearly groat ; Like Orpheus, burnt with public zeal,

Now rais'd again from low approach, To civilize the monkey-weal;

She visits in the doctor's coach : So watch'd occasion, broke his chain,

Here, there, by various fortune tost, And sought his native woods again.

At last in Gresham hall was lost. The hairy sylvans round him press,

Charm'd with the wonders of the show, Astonish'd at his strut and dress.

On every side, above, below, Some praise his sleeve, and others gloat

She now of this or that inquires, Upon his rich embroider'd coat;

What least was understood admires. His dapper perriwig commending,

'Tis plain, each thing so struck her mind, With the black tail behind depending ;

Her head's of virtuoso kind. His powder'd back, above, below,

“ And pray what's this, and this, dear sir ?" Like hoary frosts, or fleecy snow;

A needle,” says th' interpreter. But all, with envy and desire,

She knew the name; and thus the fool His fluttering shoulder-knot admire.

Address'd her as a taylor's tool. “ Hear and improve," he pertly cries :

" A needle with that filthy stone, I come to make a nation wise.

Quite idle, all with rust o'ergrown; Weigh your own worth ; support your place, You better might employ your parts, The next in rank to human race.

And aid the sempstress in her arts; In cities long I pass'd my days,

But tell me how the friendship grew Convers’d with men, and learn'd their ways. Between that paltry flint and you." Their dress, their courtly manners see ;

“ Friend,” says the needle," cease to blame; Reform your state, and copy me.

I follow real worth and fame. Seek ye to thrive? In flattery deal ;

Know'st thou the loadstone's power and art, Your scorn, your hate, with that conceal.

That virtue virtues can impart? Seem only to regard your friends,

Of all his talents I partake: But use them for your private ends.

Who then can such a friend forsake? Stint not to truth the flow of wit;

'Tis I direct the pilot's hand Be prompt to lie whene'er 'tis fit.

To shun the rocks and treacherous sand: Bend all your force to spatter merit;

By me the distant world is known, Scandal is conversation's spirit.

And either India is our own. Boldly to every thing pretend,

Had I with milliners been bred, And men your talents shall commend.

What had I been the guide of thread; I knew the great. Observe me right;

And drudg'd as vulgar needles do,
So shall you grow, like man, polite."

Of no more consequence than you.”
He spoke, and bow'd. With muttering jaws
The wondering circle grinn’d applause.

THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED NOBODY AND EVERT
Now, warm’d with malice, envy, spite,
Their most obliging friends they bite ;

Lest men suspect your tale untrue, And, fond to copy human ways,

Keep probability in view. Practise new mischiefs all their days.

The traveller leaping o'er those bounds, Thus the dull lad, too tall for school,

The credit of his book confounds. With travel finishes the fool;

Who with his tongue hath armies routed, Studious of every coxcomb's airs,

Makes even his real courage doubted. He drinks, games, dresses, whores, and swears; But flattery never seems absurd; O'erlooks with scorn all virtuous arts,

The flatter'd always takes your word:
For vice is fitted to his parts.

Impossibilities seem just; :
They take the strongest praise on trust.

Hyperboles, though ne'er so great,
A pin, who long had serv'd a beauty,

Will still come short of self-conceit.

BODY.

THE PIN AND THE NEEDLE.

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