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· And make each puny rogue a prey,

While they, the greater, flink away.
This fimile perhaps would frike,
If match'd with something more alike;
Then take it dress:d a second time
In Prior's Fase, and my

Say, did you never chance to meet
A mob of people in the street.
Ready to give the robb'd relief.
And all in haste to caich a thief;
While the fly rogue, who fich'd the prey,
Too close beset to run away,
Stop thief! flop thicf! exclaims aloud,
And so escapes among the crowd ?
So Ministers, &c.

O England, how I mourn thy faie !
For sure thy losses now are great ;
Two such what Briion can endure,
Minorca, or the Connoisseur !

To-day*, or e'er the fun goes down, Will die the Cenfor, Mr. Town!



September 30th, 1756, when Mr. Town, author of the Connoisseur, a periodical Effay (fance published in four volumes, printed for R. Baldwin, London), took leave of his readers, with an humorons account of himself.


lle dies, whoe'er takes pains to con him,
With blushing honours thick upon him;

his name these verses save, Be these inscrib'd upon his grave !

“ Know, Reader, that on Thursday died, " The Connoisseur, a Suicide! 66 Yet think not that his soul is fled, * Nor rank him 'mongst the vulgar dead, " Howe'er defun&t you fet him down, " He's only going out of Town.”


T is not youth can give content,

Nor is it wealth's decree ;
It is a gift from Heaven sent,

Tho' not to thee or me.
It is not in the Monarch's crown,

Tho' he'd give millions fur’e :
It dwells not in his Lordship’s frown,

Qr 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,

But 'tis in Hodge the carter.


Veni Creator Spiritus, parapkrafıd.



VREATOR Spirit, by whose aid

The world's foundations first were laid,
Come visit ev'ry pious mind;
Come pourthy joys on human kind;
From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee,

O source of uncreated light,
The father's promis'd Paraclete !
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy facred unetion bring
To fanctify us, while we fing.

Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy fevenfold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
Whofe pow'r does heaven and earth command..
Proceeding Spirit, our defence
Who dost the gift of tongues dispense;
And crown's thy gift with eloquence!

Refine and purge your earthly parts ;
But, oh, in flame and fire our hearts !



D 3.

Our frailties help, our vice controul,
Submit the senses to the soul ;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay. thy hand, and hold them down.

Chase from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace the fruit of love, beltow ;
And left our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practice all that we believe :
Give us thy felf, that we may fee
The Father and the Son, by thee,

Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend the Almighty Father's name:
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for loft man's redemption died ;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

Discord's House HA

ARD by the gates of hell her dwelling is,

There whereas all plagues and harmes abound; Which punish wicked men, that walk amiss : It is a darksome delve farre under ground, With thornes and barren brakes environd round,

That none the same way may out-win; Yet many ways to enter may be found,


But none to issue forth when one is in ;
For discord harder is to end than to begin.

And all within the riven walles were hung
With rugged monuments of times fore-past,

Of which, the fad effect of discord fung:
There were rent robes, and broken sccpters plac't ;
Altars defild, and holy things defacit

Dishevered spears, and shields ytorne in twaine,
Great cittys ransackt, and strong castles ras't,

Nations captived, and huge arinies slaine :
Of all which ruines there some reliques did remaine,

There was the figne of antique Babylon,
Of fatal Thebes, of Rome that raigned long,

Of sacred Salem, and fad Ilion,
For memory of which, on high there hong
The golden apple (cause of all their wrong)

For which the three faire goddesses did firive:
There also was the name of Nimrod strong,

Of Alexander, and the princes five, Which shar'd to them the spoiles which he had got alives

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 souls to hell, That under


Alcides' furie fell :
And of the dreadful discord, which did drive
The noble Argonauts to out-lage fell,


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