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Thought wondrous honeft, tho' of mean degree,
To Mr. JOHN MOORE,
AUTHOR of the celebrated WoRM
OW much, egregious Moore, are we
Deceiv'd by shews and forms ! Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All Humankind are Worms.
Man is a very Worm by birth,
Vile, Reptile, weak, and vain ! A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.
That Woman is a Worm, we find
E’er fince our Grandame's evil; She first convers'd with her own kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.
The Learn'd themfelvés we Book-worms Dame,
The Blockhead is a Slow worn; The Nymph wbofe tail is all on kame,
Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm ;
The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a day ;
And in a Worm decay.
The Flatterer an Earwig grows ;
Thus Worms Tuit all conditions ; Misers are Muck-worms, Silk-worms Beaus,
And Death-watches Physicians.
That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen,
By all their winding play ;
That gnaws them night and day.
Ah Moore! thy fkill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rife,
The Worm that never dies!
O learned Friend of Abcburch-Lane,
Who sett'it our entrails free ; Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,
Since Worms shall eat ev'n thee.
Our Fate thou only can'ft adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Who Maggots were before.
SONG, by a Person of Quality.
Written in the Year 1733.
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart;
Nature must give Way to Art.
Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks,
All beneath yon flow'ry Rocks.
Mourn'd Adonis, darling Youth :
Gor’d with unrelenting Tooth.
Fair Discretion, string the Lyre;
V. Gloomy, Pluto, King of Terrors,
Arm'd in adamantine Chains, Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors,
Wat'ring foft Elysian Plains.
Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow,
Gilding my Aurelia's Brows, . Morpheus hov'ring o'er my Pillow,
Hear me pay my dying Vows.
VH.. Melancholy smooth Meander,
Swiftly purling in a Round, On thy Margin Lovers wander,
With thy flow'ry Chaplets crown'd.
VIII. Thus when Philomela drooping,
Softly seeks her filent Mate, See the Bird of Juno stooping;
Melody resigns to Fate, 1
On a Certain LADY at COURT.
Know the thing that's most uncommon;
(Envy be filent, and attend!) I know a reasonable Woman,
Handsome and witty, yet a Friend.
Not warp'd by Paffion, aw'd by Rumour,
Not gràve thro' Pride, nor gay thro' Folly, An equal Mixture of good Humour,
And sensible foft Melancholy.
“ Has lhe no faults then (Envy fays) Sir?"
Yes, she has one, I must aver:
The Woman's deaf, and does not hear.