(Far more than e'er can by yourself be guess'd ;)
Fix on Vertumnus and reject the rest.
For his firm faith I dare engage my own;
Scarce to himself, himself is better known.
To distant lands Vertumnus never roves;
Like
you, contented with his native groves;
Nor at first sight, like most, admires the fair;
For you he lives: and you alone shall share
His last affection, as his early care.
Besides, he's lovely far above the rest,
With youth immortal, and with beauty bless'd.
Add, that he varies every shape with ease,
And tries all forms that may Pomona please.
But what should most excite a mutual flame,
Your rural cares and pleasures are the same :
To him your orchard's early fruit are due,
(A pleasing offering when 'tis made by you,)
He values these: but yet, alas! complains,
That still the best and dearest gift remains.
Not the fair fruit that on yon branches glows
With that ripe red the autumnal sun bestows;
Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens rise,
Which the kind soil with milky sap supplies:
You, only you, can move the god's desire:
Oh, crown so constant and so pure a fire!
Let soft compassion touch your gentle mind;
Think, 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind :
So may no frost, when early buds appear,
Destroy the promise of the youthful year;
Nor winds, when first your florid orchard blows,
Shake the light blossoms from their blasted boughs.
This when the various god had urged in vain,
He straight assumed his native form again;
Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
As when through clouds the emerging sun appears,
And, thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day.
Force he prepared, but check'd the rash design;
For when, appearing in a form divine,

The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace
Of charming features, and a youthful face;
In her soft breast consenting passions move,
And the warm maid confess'd a mutual love.

IMITATIONS

OF ENGLISH POETS. Done by the Author in his Youth.

CHAUCER.

WOMEN ben full of ragerie,
Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
Thilka moral shall ye understond,
From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond:
Which to the fennes hath him betake,
To filch the gray ducke fro the lake.
Right then, there passen by the way
His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
Ducke in his trowsers hath he hent,
Not to be spied of ladies gent.
'But ho! our nephew,' crieth one,
'Ho! quoth another, 'cozen John;'
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out,-
This silly clerke full low doth lout:
They asken that, and talken this,
Lo! here is coz, and here is miss.'

But as he glozeth with speeches soote,
The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote;
Fore-piece and buttons all to-brest,
Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest.
Te-he,' cried ladies; clerke nought spake;
Miss stared, and gray ducke cryeth, ' Quaake.
O moder, moder,' quoth the daughter,
'Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter?
Bette is to pine on coals and chalke,
Then trust on mon, whose yerde can talke-

SPENSER.

THE ALLEY.

IN every town where Thamis rolls his tyde,
A narrow pass there is with houses low;
Where, ever and anon, the stream is eyed,
And
many a boat, soft sliding to and fro.
There oft are heard the notes of infant woe,
The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller squall
How can ye, mothers, vex your children so?
Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall,
And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call.

And on the broken pavement, here and there,
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;

A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by;
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry.
At every door are sun-burnt matrons seen,
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry,
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft between;
Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighbour-

hood I ween.

The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy)
Close at my heel with yelping treble flies;
The whimpering girl, and hoarser screaming boy,
Join to the yelping treble, shrilling cries;
The scolding quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound;
To her full pipes the grunting hog replies;
The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base are
drown'd.

Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch,
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or plaice:
There learn'd she speech from tongues that never

cease.

Slander beside her, like a magpie, chatters,
With Envy (spitting cat,) dread foe to peace;
Like a cursed cur, Malice before her clatters,
And, vexing every wight, tears clothes and all to

tatters.

Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand,
Her mouth was black as bull dog's at the stall;
She scratch'd, bit, and spared ne lace ne band,
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all;
Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would call;
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook,
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall,
And by his hand obscene the porter took,
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town,
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch:

OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE. FAIR charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize, A heart resign'd, the conquest of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threaten'd vessel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once assail. We were too bless'd with these enchanting lays, Which must be heavenly when an angel plays: But killing charms your lover's death contrive, Lest heavenly music should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees: but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he: A poet made the silent wood pursue, This vocal wood had drawn the poet too.

ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN.

There in bright drops the crystal fountains play
By laurels shielded from the piercing day;
Where Daphne, now a tree, as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
Still turns her beauties from the invading beam,
Nor seeks in vain for succour to the stream;
The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves,
At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
Where summer's beauty midst of winter stays,
And winter's coolness spite of summer's rays.

WEEPING.

WHILE Celia's tears make sorrow bright, Proud grief sits swelling in her eyes: The sun, next those the fairest light,

Thus from the ocean first did rise; And thus through mists we see the sun, Which else we durst not gaze upon. These silver drops, like morning dew, Foretell the fervor of the day: So from one cloud soft showers we view, And blasting lightnings burst away. The stars that fall from Celia's eye, Declare our doom is drawing nigh.

cris, with the Motto, Aura veni.'

COME, gentle air!' the Eolian shepherd said, While Procris panted in the secret shade; 'Come, gentle air,' the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies. Lo, the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray, Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play! In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found, Nor could that fatal dart more surely wound: Both gifts destructive to the givers prove; Alike both lovers fall by those they love.

Yet guiltless too the bright destroyer lives,

So like a Phaeton appears,

That heaven, the threaten'd world to spare,
Thought fit to drown him in her tears:
Else might the ambitious nymph aspire
To set, like him, heaven too on fire.

EARL OF ROCHESTER.

ON SILENCE.

SILENCE! coeval with eternity,

Thou wert, ere nature's self began to be;

She views the story with attentive eyes,

And pities Procris, while her lover dies.

COWLEY.

THE GARDEN.

FAIN would my muse the flowery treasure sing,
And humble glories of the youthful spring :
Where opening roses breathing sweets diffuse,
And soft carnations shower their balmy dews;
Where lilies smile in virgin robes of white,
The thin undress of superficial light,
And varied tulips show so dazzling gay,
Blushing in bright diversities of day.
Each painted floweret in the lake below
Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narcissus, on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees cathedral walks compose,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;
There the green infants in their beds are laid,
The garden's hope, and its expected shade.
Here orange trees with blooms and pendants shine,

And vernal honours to their autumn join;
Exceed their promise in their ripen'd store,
Yet in the rising blossom promise more.

Thine was the sway, ere heav'n was formed, or earth:
Ere fruitful thought conceived creation's birth,

| Or midwife word gave aid, and spoke the infant forth.
The various elements against thee join'd
In one more various animal combined,
And framed the clamorous race of busy human-kind
The tongue moved gently first, and speech was low,
Till wrangling science taught it noise and show,
And wicked wit arose, thy most abusive foe.

But rebel wit deserts thee oft in vain;
Lost in the maze of words he turns again,
And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign.
Afflicted sense thou kindly dost set free,
Oppress'd with argumental tyranny,

And routed reason finds a safe retreat in thee.

With thee in private modest d Iness lies, And in thy bosom lurks in thought's disguise; Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise! Yet thy indulgence is by both confess'd; Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, And 'tis in thee at last that wisdom seeks for rest. Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's good name, The only honour of the wishing dame; Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame

free,

EARL OF DORSET.

ARTEMISIA.

THOUGH Artemisia talks, by fits,
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits;

Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke;
Yet in some things methinks she fails :
'Twere well if she would pare her nails,
And wear a cleaner smock.

Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, Such nastiness, and so much pride,

Are oddly join'd by fate:

On her large squab you find her spread, Like a fat corpse upon a bed,

That lies and stinks in state.

She wears no colours (sign of grace)
On any part except her face;

All white and black beside:
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud,
Her voice theatrically loud,

And masculine her stride.

So have I seen, in black and white,
A prating thing, a magpie hight,
Majestically stalk;

A stately, worthless animal,

That plies the tongue, and wags the tail, All flutter, pride, and talk.

PHRYNE.

PHRYNE had talents for mankind,
Open she was, and unconfined,

Like some free port of trade;
Merchants unloaded here their freight,
And agents from each foreign state,

Here first their entry made.

Her learning and good-breeding such,
Whether the Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniards or French came to her;
To all obliging she'd appear:
Twas 'Si Signor,' 'twas 'Yaw Mynheer,'
"Twas 'S'il vous plait, Monsieur.'
Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,
Still changing names, religion, climes,
At length she turns a bride :

She shines the first of batter'd jades,
And flutters in her pride.
So have I known those insects fair
(Which curious Germans hold so rare)

Still vary shapes and dyes;
Still gain new tities with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
Then painted butterflies.

DR. SWIFT.

THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.
PARSON, these things in thy possessing,
Are better than the bishop's blessing:
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
That carries double when there's need;
October store, and best Virginia,
Tithe pig, and mortuary guinea:
Gazettes sent gratis down, and frank'd,
For which thy patron's weekly thank'd;
A large Concordance, bound long since;
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince:
A Chronicle of ancient standing:
A Chrysostom to smooth-thy band in:
The Polyglott-three parts--my text,
Howbeit,-likewise-now to my next :
Lo, here the Septuagint,-and Paul,
To sum the whole,-the close of all.

He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
And fast on Fridays-if he will;
Toast church and queen, explain the news,
Talk with church-wardens about pews;
Pray heartily for some new gift,
And shake his head at Dr. Sw**t.

AN ESSAY ON MAN,

IN FOUR EPISTLES

TO HENRY ST. JOHN, LORD BOLINGBROKE.

THE DESIGN.

HAVING proposed to write some pieces on human life and manners, such as (to use my lord Bacon's expression) 'come home to men's business and bosoms,' I thought it more satisfactory to begin with considering man in the abstract, his nature, and his state: since, to prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral precept, or to examine the perfection or imperfection of any creature whatsoever, it is necessary first to know what condition and relation it is placed in, and what is the proper end and purpose of its being.

The science of human nature is, like all other sciences, reduced to a few clear points: there are not many certain truths in this world. It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind as in that of the body; more good will accrue to mankind by attending to the large, open, and perceptible parts, than by studying too much such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations and uses of which will for ever escape our observation. The disputes are all upon these