DEPEND not upon verfe for fame, Our language never refts the fame; Thy wreaths, in course of fleeting hours, A furer way then wouldst thou find Whilft there remains amongft mankind By Lord HERVEY. POSSESS D of one great hall for state, Without one room to fleep or eat: How well you build, let flatt'ry tell, And all mankind how ill you dwell. Each rifing agony, each dreadful grace, A On the Death of a Lady's Cut. HARRISON. ND is Mifs Tabby from the world retir'd ? O'er Cæfar's arms your genius had prevail'd; TOM's coach and fix !—whither in fuch hafte But a thort journey- Jealouly. And are her lives, all her nine lives, expir'd: T Bedlam with him: is he found in mind, What founds so moving, as her own, can tell How Tabby died, how full of play the fell? Begin, ye tuneful nine, a mournful trife, And ev'ry mufe fhall celebrate a life. A Receipt for Courtship. TWO SWIFT. or three dears, and two or three fweets; Two or three balls, and two or three treats; Two or three ferenades, given as a lure; Two or three oaths how much they endure; Two or three meffages fent in one day; Two or three times led out from the play; Two or three foft fpeeches made by the way; Two or three tickets for two or three times; Two or three love-letters writ all-in rhymes: Two or three months keeping ftrict to thefe rules Can never fail making a couple of fools. YOUR homely face, Flippanta, you disguise With parchies numerous as Argus' eyes ; I own that patching 's requifite for you, For more we're pleas'd the lets your face we view: Yet I advife, fince my advice you ask, Wear but one patch, and be that patch a mask. Infcription for a Bufi of Lady Suffolk in a Wond. HER wit and beauty for a court were made, Her truth and goodness fit her for a fhade. By Lady M. W. MONTAGUE. WHILST thirt of praife and vain defire of fame, In ev'ry age, is ev'ry woman's aim ; With courtship pleas'd, of filly toasters proud, Fond of a train, and happy in a crowd; On each poor fool beftowing fome kind glance, Esch conqueft owing to fome loofe advance; While vain coquets affect to be purfued, And think they're virtuous, if not grofsly lewd; Let this great maxim be my virtue's guideIn part the is to blame that has been tried: He comes too near, that comes to be denied. To Mr. Addifon, on bis Tragedy of Cato. THE mind to virtue is by verfe fubdued, And the true poet is a public good. This Britain feels; while, by your lines inspir'd, Her free-born fons to glorious thoughts are fir'd. In Rome had you efpous'd the vanquish'd cause, Inflam'd her fenate, and upheld her laws, Your manly fcenes had liberty reftor'd, And given the juft fuccefs to Cato's fword. I Who fill is fecking what he would not find? By LEONARD WELSTEAD. OWE, fays Thomas, much to Peter's care; Once only feen, he chofe me for his heir. True, Thomas; hence your fortunes take their rife: His heir you were not, had he feen you twice. By Dr. KENRICK. THE great, good man, whom Fortune will dis- May into fearcenefs fall, but not difgrace. They love their height, but keep their reverence; your pate, and fancy wit will come : Knock as you will, there's nobody at home. A Flower by Varelft. PRIOR. The Royal Knotter. Sir CH. SEDLEY. AH, happy people ye muft thrive, While thus the royal pair does ftrive Both to advance your glory; While he by 's valour conquers France, She manufactures does advance, And makes thread-fringes for ye. Bleft we! who from fuch queens are freed, Who, by vain fuperftition led, Are always telling beads: But here's a queen now, thanks to God, Let all thy trumpets The fringe which this campaign has wrought, What's Honour? NOT to be captious, not unjustly fight; J right. Verfes occafioned by Mr. Aikman's Death. AS thofe we love decay, we die in part, String after ftring is fever'd from the heart; Till loofen'd life, at laft but breathing clay, Without one pang is glad to fall away. ACK his own merit fees. This gives him pride, Unhappy he who lateft feels the blow, That he fees more than all the world befide. By PRIOR. YES, ev'ry poet is a fool; By demonstration Ned can fhew it: I Dean Swift's Curate. MARCH'D three miles thro' fcorching fand, I rode four more to Great St. Mary; While thund'ring out with lungs long-winded, I chopp'd fo faft that few there minded. My emblem, the laborious fun, Saw all there mighty labou.s done Whofe eyes have wept o'er ev'ry friend laid low, To the Reverend Mr. Murdoch, Rector of Strad- High blits is only for a higher state. Both gifts deftructive to the givers prove, She views the ftory with attentive eyes, ONE day in Chelfea meadows walking, Of poetry and such things talking, Your fimile, I own, is new; STE By Mrs. PILKINGTON. All can difcern a face that 's fair, But few a lovely mind. Like eastern tyrants Flavia deigns Then boaft, fair Flavia, boast your face, To rule o'er barren fands. Your beauty's only frore: Each day that makes thy charms decrease Will give to Stella more. THE To Mr. Pope, on bis Dunciad. HE raven, rook, and pert jackdaw, Tho' neither birds of moral kind, Yet ferve, if hang'd, or stuff'd with straw, To fhew us which way blows the wind. Thus dirty knaves, or chatt'ring fools, Strung up by dozens in thy lay, Teach more by half than Dennis' rules, And point inftruction ev'ry way. With Egypt's art thy pen may ftrive: One potent drop let this but shed, And ev'ry rogue that Qunk alive Becomes a precious mummy dead. reafon ? TREASON does never profper; what's the Why, when it profpers, none dare call it treafon. CURIO's rich fideboard feldom fees the light, Clean is his kitchen, and his fpits are bright; His knives and forks, all rang'd in even rows, No hand molefts, no fervants difcompofe: A curious jack, hung up to please the eye, For ever ftill, whofe flyers-never fly: |