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The glofly White imbib'd a spreading Blot,
But on her Breast appear'd a Livid Spot:
The Cow rose slowly from her Consort's Side,
But when afar the grazing Bull Ihe spy'd,
Fris^'d to the Herd with an impetuous haste.
And pleas'd, in new luxuriant Soil, her Taste.
Oh learn'd Diviner!

"What may this visionary Dream portend,
If Dreams in any future Truth can end.
The Prophet nicely weighs what I relate;
And thus denounces in the Voice of Fate:

That Heat you try'd to shun iW shady Grove, Butshunn'dinvain, was the fierce Heat of Love: The Cow denotes the Nymph, your onlyCare;^ For White's th'exprestive Image of the Fair; > And you the Bull abandons to Despair?' * The pecking Crow, some busie Bawd implies, Who with base Arts Will soon seduce your Prize.

You saw the Cow to fresher Pastures range .*
So will your Nymph for Richer Lovers change:
As mixing with the Herd, you saw her rove;
So will the Fair pursue promiscuous Love;
Soon will you find a foul Incestuous Blot,
As on the Cow you view'd the Livid Spot.

At this my Blood retir'd, with dismal Fright,And left me pale as Death; my fainting Sight J.

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ON A ,

Miscellany of Poems.

To BERNARD LINTOTT.

Jpsa varietate tentamus efficere ut alia aliis'; quadarn fbrtaffe omnibus j> lace ant. Plin.Epist.

AS when some skilful Cook, to please each [Guest, Would in oneMixture comprehend aFeast,

With due Proportion and judicious Care

He fills his Dish with different forts of Fare,

Fishes and Fowl delicioufly unite,

To feast at once the Taste, the Smell, and Sight.

i

So, Bernard, must a Miscellany be
Compounded of all kinds of Poetry;
The Muses O'lio, which all Tastes may fit,
4nd treat each Reader with his darling Wit.

, Wouldst

«

Wouldst thou for Miscellanies raise thy Fame; And bravely rival Jacobs mighty Name, Let all the Muses in the Piece conspire, l - -1\ The Lyrick Bard must strike th' harmonious Lyre; Heroick Strains must here and there be found, And Nervous Sense be sung in Lofty Sound; Let Elegy in moving Numbers flow, And fill some Pages with melodious Woe; Let not your am'rous Songs too num'rous prove, Nor glut thy Reader with abundant Love; Satyr must interfere, whose pointed Rage - -.. May lash the Madness of a vicious Age; '-.' Satyr, the Muse that never fails to hit, For if there's Scandal, to be sure there's Wit. Tire not our Patience with Pindarick Lays, Those swell the Piece, but very rarely please: Let short-breath'd Epigram its Force confine,

And strike at Follies in a single Line.

Tran

Translations should throughout the Work be sown/]
And Homer\ Godlike Muse be made our ow5i? i
Horace in useful Numbers mould be Sung, \
And VirgiFs Thoughts adorn the Britijb Tongue;
Let Ovid tell Corima's hard Disdain,
And at her Door in melting Notes complain:
His tender Accents pitying Virgins move,
And charm the fist'ning Ear with Tales of Love.
Let every Claffick in the Volume shine,
And each contribute to thy great Design:
Through various Subjects let the Reader range,
And raise his Fancy with a grateful Change;
Variety's the Source of Joy below,
From whence still firesh revolving Pleasures flow.
In Books and Love, the Mind one End pursues,
And only Change th'expiring Flame renews.

Where Buckingham will condescend to give, -Ishat honour'd Piece to distant Times must live;

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