« ZurückWeiter »
Pope. Since my old friend is grown so great,
As to be ininister of state,
That Craggs will be ashamed of Pope.
To grow the worse for growing greater,
Engraved on the Collar of a Dog, w hich I gave to his Royal High
I am his Highness' dog at Kew
Occasioned by an Invitation to Court.
In the lines that you sent are the
graces ; You've the nine in your wit, and the three in your
ON AN OLD GATE,
Erected in Chiswick Gardens.
O GATE, how camest thou here?
Batter'd with wind and weather,
Inigo Jones put me together. VoD. II
Sir Hans Sloane,
Let me alone :
What are the falling rills, the pendant shades,
VERSES LEFT BY MR. POPE,
I press'd the bed where Wilmot lay
Begets no numbers grave or gay.
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie,
Beneath a nobler roof—the sky,
Such flames as high in patriots burn,
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife ;
And such as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.
VERSES TO MR. C.
St. James's Place, London, October 22.
bew words are best; I wish you well:
Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here; Some morning-walks along the Mall,
And evening friends, will end the year.
The falling leaf and coming frost,
; For three whole days you here may rest,
From office, business, news, and strife; And (what most folks would think a jest)
Want nothing else, except your wife.
His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani munere !
ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET,
In the Church of Withyam, in Sussex. Dorset, the grace of courts, the Muses' pride, Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died. The scourge of pride, though sanctified or great, Of fops in learning, and of knaves in state: Yet soft his nature, though severe his lay, His anger moral, and his wisdom gay. Bless'd satirist! who touch'd the mean so true, As show'd vice had his hate and pity too. Bless'd courtier ! who could king and country please, Yet sacred keep his friendships, and his ease. Bless'd peer! his great forefathers' every grace Reflecting, and reflected in his race; Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets shine, And patrons still, or poets, deck the line.
ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL,
One of the principal Secretaries of State to King William the ị Third, who, having resigned his place, died in his Retirement
at Easthamsted, in Berkshire, 1716.
A PLEASING form; a firm, yet cautious mind;
Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest :
ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT,
Only Son of the Lord Chancellor Harcourt, at the Church of Stan
ton-Harcourt, in Oxfordshire, 1720.
To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw near; Here lies the friend most loved, the son most dear; Who ne'er knew joy but friendship might divide, Or gave his father grief but when he died.
How vain is reason, eloquence how weak! If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. Oh let thy once-loved friend inscribe thy stone, And with a father's sorrows mix his own!