And make each puny rogue a prey, While they, the greater, flink away. This fimile perhaps would ftrike, If match'd with fomething more alike; Stop thief! flop thief! exclaims aloud, O England, how I mourn thy fate! To-day*, or e'er the fun goes down, Will die the Cenfor, Mr. Town! * September 30th, 1756, when Mr. Town, author of the Connoiffeur, a periodical Effay (fince published in four volumes, printed for R. Baldwin, London), took leave of his readers, with an humorons account of himfelf. He dies, whoe'er takes pains to con him, Be thefe inferib'd upon his grave! "Know, Reader, that on Thursday died, "The Connoiffeur, a Suicide! "Yet think not that his foul is fled, ON CONTENT. IT is not youth can give content, Nor is it wealth's decree ; It is a gift from Heaven fent, Tho' not to thee or me. It is not in the Monarch's crown, Or waits on him to court. It is not in a coach aud fix, It is not in a garter; 'Tis not in love or politics, Veni Veni Creator Spiritus, paraphrafed. DRYDEN. REATOR Spirit, by whofe aid CREA The world's foundations firft were laid, Come vifit ev'ry pious mind ; Come pour thy joys on human kind ; From fin and forrow fet us free, Plenteous of grace, defcend from high, Rich in thy fevenfold energy! Thou ftrength of his Almighty hand, Whofe pow'r does heaven and earth command.. Proceeding Spirit, our defence. Who doft the gift of tongues difpenfe, Our frailties help, our vice controul, Chafe from our minds th' infernal foe, fee Make us eternal truths receive, Attend the Almighty Father's name : Who for loft man's redemption died; Eternal Paraclete, to thee! Difcord's Houfe. IL HARD by the gates of hell her dwelling is, There whereas all plagues and harmes abound Which punish wicked men, that walk amifs: It is a dark fome delve farre under ground, With thornes and barren brakes environd round,. That none the fame way may out-win; Yet many ways to enter may be found, But But none to issue forth when one is in ; And all within the riven walles were hung Of which, the fad effect of difcord fung: There were rent robes, and broken fcepters plac't; Altars defil'd, and holy things defac't Difhevered fpears, and fhields ytorne in twaine, Great cittys ranfackt, and ftrong cafles ras't, Nations captived, and huge armies flaine: Of all which ruines there fome reliques did remaine. There was the figne of antique Babylon, For memory of which, on high there hong For which the three faire goddeffes did ftrive: Of Alexander, and the princes five, Which fhar'd to them the spoiles which he had And there the reliques of the drunken fray, The which amongst the Lapithees befell, And of the bloody feaft, which fent away So many centaurs drunken fouls to hell, That under great Alcides' furie fell: got And of the dreadful difcord, which did drive The noble Argonauts to out-rage fell, alive That |