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Why make I friendships with the great,
When I no favour seek?
I need but once a week.
Deep whimsies to contrive;
Most thinking rake alive.
Though fond of dear repose;
And frolic with my foes.
For sober, studious days!
For salads, tarts, and pease!
Whose soul sincere and free,
And so may starve with me.
As to be minister of state,
That Craggs will be ashamed of Pope. Craggs. Alas ! if I am such a creature,
To grow the worse for growing greater,
EPIGRAM, Occasioned by an Invitation to Court. In the lines that you sent are the muses and graces : You've the nine in your wit, and the three in you:
ON AN OLD GATE
Erected in Chiswick Gardens.
Batter'd with wind and weather ;
Sir Hans Sloane
Let me alone :
VERSES LEFT BY MR. POPE, On his lying in the same Bed which Wilmot the celo
brated Earl of Rochester slept in, at Adderbury,
I press'd the bed where Wilmot lay;
Begets no numbers grave or gay.
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie;
Beneath a nobler roof-the sky.
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife ;
When freedom is more dear than life
VERSES TO MR. C.
Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here :
And evening friends, will end the year.
The falling leaf and coming frost,
Your friend, your poet, and your host;
From office, business, news, and strife
Want nothing else, except your wife.
His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani
ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET,
In the Church of Withyam, in Susser. DORSET, the grace of courts, the Muses' pride, Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died. The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great, Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state: Yet soft his nature, though severe his lay; His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. Bless'd satirist! who touch'd the mean so true, As show'd vice had his hate and pity too. Bless'd courtier! who could king and country please, Yet sacred keep his friendships, and his ease. Bless'd peer! his great forefathers' every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his race ; Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine, And patrons still, or poets, deck the line.
ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBALL, One of the principal Secretaries of State to King
William the Third, who, having resigned his place, died in his Retirement at Easthamstead, in Berk shire, 1716.
A PLEASING form; a firm, yet cautious mind;
A generous faith, from superstition free;
ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT, Only Son of the Lord Chancellor Harcourt, at the
Church of Stanton-Harcourt, in Oxfordshire, 1720
To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near;
How vain is reason, eloquence how weak!
ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ.
In Westminster Abbey.
ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS,
OB. FEB. XVI. MDCCXX.
STATESMAN, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear! Who broke no promise, served no private end, Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend; Ennobled by himself, by all approved, Praised, wept, and honour'd, by the muse he loved