Each Verse fo fwells, expreffive of the Woes, And ev'ry Tear in Lines fo mournful flows; Let Joy transport fair ROS A MONDA's Shade. Alike they Mourn, alike they Blefs their Fate, Since LovE, which made 'em Wretched, makes 'em Nor longer that relentless Doom bemoan, Which gain'd a VIRGIL and an ADDISON. And foars to hail the GOD of Verfe and Light; And views thy ROSAMOND with HENRY's Eyes. On W On a LADY's Orange. Hence this? Has VENUS then refign'd the Prize, Juft Goddefs! who, to the firft Beauty due, SONG. LUCINDA has the De'il and all Of that bright thing we BEAUTY call; But if fhe won't come to my Arms, Beauty's the Sawce to Love's high Meat, It is indeed a mighty Treasure, But in the Ufing lies the Pleasure; EPITAPH on a Taylor's Wife. H' ERE lies a TAYLOR'S Counter-part, Who lov'd a YARD with all her Heart. Her Crofs-leg'd Spouse knew what would ease her, And often stole a YARD to please her; Yet all his CABBAGE Would not fave The loving Baggage from the Grave: But here fhe Slumbers, foon forgotten, Now dead, not valued of a BUTTON. ON ΟΝ ΤΗΕ DEATH OF Mr. VIN E R. By the late Mr. Arch-Deacon, PARNEL. S Viner Dead? and fhall each Mufe become Who oft to Harmony has tun'd their Lays? Shall he, who knew the Elegance of Sound, Find no one VOICE to fing him to the Ground? My Soul with his is fecretly ally'd, And I am forc'd to fpeak, fince VINER dy'd. Oh that my Muse, as once his Notes, could fwell! That I might fay with how much SKILL he play'd The liquid Harmony, a tuneful Tide, Now feem'd to rage, anon wou'd gently glide; While all was blended in one common Name, The diff'rent TONES melodioufly combin'd, . Temper'd with Art, in fweet Confufion join'd; The Soft, the Strong, the Clear, the Shrill, the Deep, Would fometimes foar aloft, and fometimes creep; |