He was the only person of his time

Who could CHEAT without the mask of HONESTY; Retain his primeval MEANNESS when possessed of TEN THOUSAND a year;

And, having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did, Was at last condemned to it for what he could

not do.

O indignant reader !

Think not his life useless to mankind!
PROVIDENCE Connived at his execrable designs,
To give to after ages a conspicuous PROOF and

EXAMPLE

Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT WEALTH in

the sight of
GOD,

By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of

ALL MORTALS.

JOHANNES jacet hic Mirandula—cætera nôrunt Et Tagus et Ganges-forsàn et Antipodes.

APPLIED TO F. C.

HERE Francis Chartres lies*-be civil!
The rest God knows-perhaps the Devil.

* Thus applied by Mr. Pope; "Here lies Lord Coningsby." H.

EPIGRAM.

PETER Complains, that God has given
To his poor babe a life so short:
Consider, Peter, he's in Heaven;
'Tis good to have a friend at court.

ANOTHER.

You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come :
Kuock as you please, there's nobody at home.

EPITAPH OF BY-WORDS.

HERE lies a round woman, who thought mighty odd
Ev'ry word she e'er heard in this church about God.
To convince her of God the good Dean did endeavour
But still in her heart she held Nature more clever.
Tho' he talk'd much of virtue, her head always run
Upon something or other she found better fun :
For the dame, by her skill in affairs astronomical,
Imagin'd, to live in the clouds was but comical.
In this world she despis'd ev'ry soul she met here;
And now she's in t'other, she thinks it but queer.

(73)

EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.

SIR, I admit your gen'ral rule,
That ev'ry poet is a fool :

But you yourself may serve to show it,
That every fool is not a poet.

EPITAPH.

WELL then, poor G-lies under ground?
So there's an end of honest Jack.

So little justice here he found,

'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.

EPIGRAM.

ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT CLUB. ANNO 1716.

WHENCE deathloss, KIT-CAT took its name,

Few critics can unriddle :

Some say from PASTRYCOOK it came,

And some, from CAT and FIddle.
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Gray statesmen, or green wits;
But from this pellmell pack of toasts
Of old CATS and young KITS.

(74)

TO A LADY,

WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

WHAT'S fame with men, by custom of the nation;
Is call'd, in women, only reputation:

About them both why keep we such a pother?
Part you with one, and I'll renounce the other.

VERSES

To be placed under tlie Picture of England's Arch Poet, [Sir Richar Blackmore,] containing a complete Catalogue of his Works.

SEE who ne'er was or will be half read!
Who first sung Arthur,* then sung Alfred;†
Prais'd great Eliza‡ in God's anger,
Till all true Englishmen cried, Hang her!
Made William's virtues wipe the bare a—,
And hanged up Marlborough in arras:§
Then, hiss'd from earth, grew heavenly quite :
Made every reader curse the light;||
Maul'd human wit, in one thick satire;*
.**
Next in three books sent Human Nature;ft
Undid Creation‡‡ at a jerk;

And of redemption§§ made damn'd work

* Two heroic poems in folio, twenty books.

An heroic poem, in twelve books.

An heroic poem in folio, ten books.

Instructions to Vanderbank, a tapestry weaver.

Hymn to the Light.

**Satire against Wit.

++ Of the Nature of Man.

Creation, a poem, in seven books.

The Redeemer, another heroic poem, in six books.

Then took his Muse, at once, and dipp'd her
Full in the middle of the Scripture:

What wonders there the man grown old did!
Sternhold himself he out-Sternholded;
Made David* seem so mad and freakish,
All thought him just what thought King Achishn
No mortal read his Solomon,†

But judg'd R'oboam his own sou.
Moses he serv'd as Moses Pharaoli,
And Deborah as she Siserah;
Made Jeremy § full sore to cry,
And Job himself curse God and die.

What punishment all this must follow ?
Shall Arthur use him like King Tollo?
Shall David as Uriah slay him?
Or dext'rous Deb'rah Siserah him?
Or shall Eliza lay a plot

To treat him like her sister Scot?

Shall William dub his better end ?**

Or Marlb❜rough serve him like a friend?
No, none of these-Heaven spare his life!
But send him, honest Job, thy wife.

* Translation of all the Psalms.

+ Canticles and Ecclesiastes.

Paraphrase of the Canticles of Moses and Deborah, &c.
The Lamentations.

The whole book of Job, a poem, in folio.

** Kick him on the breech, not knight him on the shoulder.