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Till death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERN,
ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, 1742.
With not one sin but poetry,
1 [He was invited to dine on his birth-day with this nobleman, who had prepared for him the entertainment of which the bill of fare is here set down.-Warburton.] 2 [The harp is generally wove on the Irish linen, &c.—Warburton.]
[This alludes to a story Mr. Southern told of Dryden, about the same time, to Mr. P. and Mr. W. When Southern first wrote for the stage, Dryden was so famous for his prologues, that the players would act nothing without that decoration. His usual price till then had been four guineas : but when Southern came to him for the prologue he had bespoke, Dryden told him he must have six guineas for it; "which,” said he, “ young man, is out of no disrespect to you; but the players have had my goods too cheap.”—We now look upon these prologues with the same admiration that the virtuosi do on the apothecaries' pots painted by Raphael. —Warburton. Where are these apothecaries' pots to be found? The old dramatist outlived Pope: he died in 1746, aged eighty-six.]
TO MR. JOHN MOORE,
AUTHOR OF THE CELEBRATED WORM-POWDER.
Deceived by shows and forms !
All human kind are worms.
Man is a very worm by birth,
Vile reptile, weak and vain : Awhile he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.
That woman is a worm, we find
E'er since our grandame's evil ;
That ancient worm, the devil.
The learn'd themselves we book-worms name,
The blockhead is a slow-worm ;
Is aptly term'd a glow-worm.
The fops are painted butterflies,
That flutter for a day;
And in a worm decay.
The flatterer an earwig grows;
Thus worms suit all conditions ;
And death-watches physicians.
That statesmen have the worm, is seen
By all their winding play;
That gnaws them night and day.
Ah Moore ! thy skill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rise,
The worm that never dies!
O learned Friend of Abchurch Lane,
Who sett’st our entrails free;
Since worms shall eat e'en thee. 1
Our fate thou only canst adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Who maggots were before.
1 [The Gentleman's Magazine announces the death of this worthy as having taken place April 12, 1737. * He will now shortly," says the grave Sylvanus Urban,“ verify Mr. Pope's witty observation, 'O learned Friend,' &c." Pope's Epistle to Moore was an early production, and first published in 1716.]
TO MR. C., ST. JAMES'S PLACE.1
FEW words are best; I wish you well :
Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here;
And evening friends will end the year.
If in this interval, between
The falling leaf and coming frost,
Your friend, your poet, and your host:
For three whole days you here may rest
From office business, news and strife;
Want nothing else except your wife.
1 [Mr. Cleland, whose residence was in St. James's Place, where he died in 1741. See Preface to the Dunciad.]
The Evening, I amived here I mett he Funeral of this unfortunate couple. They were both byd in one Gmve in the Parish Church yard of Santon Hareorist
. I have prevaila
When laskem fovers feed the funral fire,
FAC-SIMILE FROM POPE'S MANUSCRIPTS.