To Mr THOMAS SOUTHERN,

R

On his Birth-day, 1742.

ESIGN'D to live, prepar'd to die,
With not one fin, but poetry,
This day Tom's fair account has run
(Without a blot) to eighty one.
Kind Boyle, before his poet, lays
A table, with a cloth of bays;
And Ireland, mother of fweet fingers,
Presents her harp ftill to his fingers.
The feast, his tow'ring genius marks
In yonder wild goofe and the larks!
The mushrooms fhew his wit was sudden!
And for his judgment, lo a pudden !
Roast beef, tho' old, proclaims him stout,
And grace, altho' a bard, devout.

5

10

May Toм, whom heav'n fent down to raise

15

The price of prologues and of plays,

VER. 5. A table] He was invited to dine on his birth-day with this Nobleman, who had prepared for him the entertainment of which the bill of fare is here fet down.

VER. 8. Prefents her harp] The harp is generally wove on the Irish Linnen; fuch as Table-cloths, &c.

VER. 16. The price of prologues and of plays,] This alludes to a flory Mr Southern told of Dryden, about the fame time, to

1

Be ev'ry birth-day more a winner,
Digeft his thirty-thoufandth dinner;
Walk to his grave without reproach,
And scorn a rascal and a coach.

Mr P. and Mr W. When Southern firft wrote for the stage, Dryden was fo famous for his Prologues, that the players would act nothing without that decoration. His ufual price till then had been four guineas: But when Southern came to him for the Prologue he had befpoke, Dryden told him he must have fix guineas for it; "which (faid he) young man, is out of no difrefpect to you; but the players have had my goods too cheap." -We now look upon thefe Prologues with the fame admiration that the Virtuofi do on the Apothecaries pots painted by Raphael.

་་

DORSE

ORSET, the Grace of Courts, the Mufe's
Pride,

Patron of Arts, and judge of Nature, dy'd.
The scourge of Pride, tho' fanétified or great,
Of Fops in Learning, and of Knaves in State:
Yet foft his Nature, tho' fevere his Lay,
His Anger moral, and his Wisdom gay.
Bleft Sat rift! who touch'd the Mean so true,

As show'd, Vice had his hate and pity too.

Bleft Courtier who could King and Country please,
Yet facred keep his Friendships, and his Ease.
Bleft Peer! his great Forefathers ev'ry grace
Reflecting, and reflected in his Race;

Where other BUCKHURSTS, other DORSETS fhine,
And Patriots ftill, or Poets deck the Line.

II.

On Sir WILLIAM TRUMBAL,

One of the principal Secretaries of State to King WILLIAM III. who having refigned his Place, died in his Retirement at Eafthamfted in Berkfhire, 1716.

Pleafing Form; a firm yet cautious Mind;'
Sincere, tho' prudent; conftant, yet refign'd':

Honour unchang'd, a Principle profest,

Fix'd to one fide, but mod'rate to the rest:
An honeft Courtier, yet a Patriot too ;

Just to his Prince, and to his Country true:
Fill'd with the Senfe of Age, the Fire of Youth;
A Scorn of wrangling, yet a Zeal for Truth;
A gen'rous Faith, from Superftition free;
A love to Peace, and hate of Tyranny;

Such this Man was; who now from Earth remov❜d,
At length enjoys that Liberty he lov❜d. .

III.

On the Hon. SIMON HARCOURT,

Only Son of the Lord Chancellor HARCOURT; at the Church of Stanton-Harcourt in Oxfordshire, 1720.

T

O this fad fhrine, whoe'er thou art! draw

Here lies the Friend most lov'd, the Son most dear:
Who ne'er knew Joy, but Friendfhip might divide,
Or gave his Father Grief but when he dy❜d.

How vain is Reafon, Eloquence how weak!
If Pope must tell what HARCOURT cannot speak.
Oh let thy once-lov'd Friend infcribe thy Stone,
And, with a Father's forrows, mix his own!