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EPISTLE

TO

ROBERT EARL OF OXFORD,

AND

EARL MORTIMER,

SENT to the Earl of Oxford with Dr. Parnell's
Poems, published by our Author after the faid
Earl's Imprisonment in the Tower, and Re-
treat into the country, in the year 1721.

SUCH were the notes thy once-loved pret fur:

'Till death untimely flopp'd his tunelul
tongue.

Oh juft beheld, and loft! admir'd, and mourn'd!
With fofteft manners, gentloft arts adord!
Bleft in each fcience, bleft in every ftrain!
Dear to the Mufe! to Harley dear---in vain!
For him, thou oft haft bid the world attend,
Fond to forget the ftatefman in the friend !
For Swit and him de pis'd the farce of ftate,
The fober follies of the wife and great;
Dextrous, the craving, fawning crowd to quit,
And pleas'd to 'fcape from Flattery to Wit.

Abfent or dead, ftill let a friend be dear,

(A figh the abfent claims, the dead a tea)

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FRESNOY'S ART OF PAINTING.

15

Recall thole nights that clos'd thy toil'ome days, 15 THIS verfe be thine, my friend, nor thou re

Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays,
Who, careless now of intereft, lame, or fate,
Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great;
Or, deeming meaneft what we greatest call,
Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall.

power,

20

fufe

And fure, if aught below the feats divine
Can touch immortals, 'tis a foul like thine:
A foul fupreme, in each hard instance try'd,
Above all pain, and paffion, and all pride,
The age of
The luft of lucre, and the dread of death.
In vain to deferts thy retreat is made;
The Mufe attends thee to thy filent fhade:
'Tis her's, the brave man's lateft fteps to trace,
Re-judge his acts, and dignify difgrace.
When intereft calls off all her fneaking train,
And all thoblig'd defert, and all the vain;
She waits, or to the fcaffold, or the cell,
When the last lingering friend has bid fare-

This, from no venal or ungrateful muse.
Whether thy hand ftrike out fome free defign,
Where life awakes, and dawns at every line;
Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd mals, S
And from the canvas call the mimic face:
Read these inftructive leaves, in which confpire
Frenoy's clofe art, and Dryden's native fire:
the blaft of public breath; 25 So mix'd our ftudies, and fo join'd our name:
And reading with, like theirs, our fate and fame,

well.

30

Ev'n now, the shades thy evening-walk with $5

bays

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(No hireling the, no prostitute to praife):
Ev'n now, oblervant of the parting ray,
Eyes the calm fun-fet of thy various day,
Through fortune's cloud one truly great can'

fee,

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10

Like them to fhine through long fucceeding age,
So just thy fkill, fo regular my rage.

Smit with the love of fifter-21ts we came,
And met congenial, mingling flame with flame;
Like friendly colours found them both unite, 15
And each from each contract new ftrength and
light.

How oft in pleafing talks we wear the day,
While fuminer-funs roll unperceiv'd away
While images reflect from art to art!
How oft our flowly-growing works impart,

How oft review; each finding like a friend
Something to blame, and fomething to commend!
What flattering fcenes our wandering fancy
wrought,

Rome's pompous glories rifing to our thought!
Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly,
Fir with ideas of fair Italy.

25

With thee on Raphael's monument I mourn,
Or wait infpiring dreams at Maro's uin:
With thee repofe, where Tully once was laid,
Or feek fome ruin's formidable fhade:

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35

While fancy brings the vanish'd piles to view,
And builds imaginary Rome anew.
Here thy well-ftudied arbles fix our eye;
A fading Freico here demands a figh:
Each heavenly piece unwearied we compare,
Match Raphael's grace with thy lov'd Guido's air,
Carracci's ftrength, Correggio's fofter line,
Paulo's free ftroke, and Titian's warmth divine.
Hew finifh'd with illuftrious toil appears
This fmall, well-polifh'd gem the work of years! 40
Yet fill how faint by precept is exprets'd
The living image in the painter's breaft!
Thence endlefs ftreams of fair Ideas flow,
Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow;
Thence beauty, waking all her forms, fupplies 45
An angel's fweetnefs, or Bridgewater's eyes.
Mule! at that name thy facred forrows fhed,
Thofe tears eternal that embalm the dead;
Call round her tomb each object of defire,
Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire:
Bid her be all that chears or foftens life,
The tender fifter, daughter, friend, and wife:
Bid her be all that makes mankind adore;
Then view this marble, and be vain no more!
Yet ftill her charms in breathing paint en-
gage;

50

55

Her modeft cheek fhall warm a future age.
Beauty, frail flower that every feafon fears,
Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years.
Thus Churchill's race fhall other hearts furprife,
And other beauties envy Worfley's eyes;
Each pleafing Blount fhall endless fimiles beftow,
And foft Belinda's blufh for ever glow.

60

65

70

Oh, lafting as thofe colours may they fhine, Free as thy ftroke, yet faultlefs as thy line; New graces yearly like thy works display, Soft without weakness, without glaring gay; Led by fome rule, that guides, but not conftrains; And finish'd more through happiness than pains! The kindred arts fhall in their praife confpire, One dip the pencil, and one ftring the lyre. Yet fhould the Graces all thy figures place, And breathe as air divine on every face; Yet fhould the Mufes bid my numbers roll Strong as their charms, and gentle as their foul; With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgewater vie, And there be fung till Granville's Myra die: Alas! how little from the grave we claim! Thou but preferv'ft a Face, and I a Name.

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75

WITH THE WORKS OF VOITURE.

IN thefe gay thoughts the loves and Graces fine,
And all the Waiter lives in every line:
His ealy Art may happy Nature teem,
Trifies themselves are elegant in him.

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His heart, his miftrefs and his friend did fhare;
His time, the Mufe, the witty and the fair.
Thus wifely careless, innocently gay,
Chearful he play'd the trifle, Life, away;
Till fate fcarce felt his gentle breath fuppreft;
As fmiling infants fport themfelves to reft.
Ev'n rival wits did Voiture's death deplore, 15
And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd be-
fore;

The trueft hearts for Voiture heav'd with fighs,
Voiture was wept by all the brighteft eyes:
The Smiles and Loves had died in Voiture's

death,

20

25

But that for ever in his lines they breathe.
Let the ftrict life of graver mortals be
A long, exact, and ferious comedy;
In every scene fome moral let it teach,
And, if it can, at once both pleafe and preach.
Let mine, an innocent gay farce appear,
And more diverting ftill than regular,
Have humour, wit, a native eafe and grace,
Though not too ftrictly bound to time and place:
Critics in Wit, or Life, are hard to please;
Few write to thofe, and none can live to these. 30
Too much your fex are by their forms con-
fin'd,

Severe to all, but most to Womankind;
Cuftom, grown blind with age, must be your
guide;

Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride;
By nature yielding, ftubborn but for fame; 35
Made Slaves by honour, and made Fools by
fhame.

Marriage may all thofe petty tyrants chace,
But fets up one, a greater in their place;
Well might you wish for change by thofe ac-
curft,

49

But the laft tyrant ever proves the worst.
Still in conftraint your fuffering fex remains,
Or bound in formal or in real chains:
Whole years neglected, for fome months ador'd,
The fawning Servant turns a haughty Lord.
Ah, quit not the free innocence of life,
For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife;
Nor let falfe fhews, nor empty titles pleafe:
Aim not at joy, but reft content with ease.

45

The Gods, to curfe Pamela with her prayers, Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares,50 The fhining robes, rich jewels, beds of ftate, And, to complete her blifs, a Fool for mate. She glares in balls, front boxes, and the ring, A vain, unquiet, glittering, wretched thing! Pride, pomp, and state, but reach her outward 55 part;

She fighs, and is no Duchefs at her heart.

But, madam, if the fates with ftand, and you Are deftin'd Hymen's willing Victim too; Truft not too much your now refiftiefs chanar, Thofe, age or ficknefs, four or late difarms: 60 Good-humour only teaches charms to laft, Still makes new conquefts, and maintains the paft;

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She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks, Old-fashion'd halis, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:

She went from opera, park, affembly, play, To morning-walks, and prayers three hours aday;

15

To part her time 'twixt reading and Bohea,
To inufe, and fpill her folitary tea;
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
Count the flow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell ftories to the 'Squire; 20
Up to her godly garret after feven,
There ftarve and pray, for that's the way to
Heaven.

Some 'Squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack: Who game is whift, whofe treat a toaft in fack: * Mademoiselle Paulet.

25

Who vifits with a gun, prefents you birds, Then gives a fracking buts, and cries,--no words, Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the ftable,

Makes love with nods, and, knees beneath a table, Whofe laughs are hearty, though his jefts are coarfe,

And loves you best of all things--but his horse. 39
In fome fair evening, on your elbow laid,
You dream of triumphs in the rural fhade;
In penfive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
See coronations rife on every green;
Before you pass th' imaginary fights
Of Lords, and Earls. and Dukes, and garter'd
Knights,

35

While the fpread fan o'erfhades your closing eye,
Then give one flirt, and all the vifion flies.
Thus vanifh fceptres, coronets, and balls,
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!

So when your flave, at forme dear idle time, (Not plagu'd with head-aches, or the want t rhyme)

Stands in the ftreets, abstracted from the crew,
And while he feems to study, thinks of you.
Juft when his fancy points your sprightly eye, 45
Or fees the bluth of foft Parthenia rife,
Gay pats my fhoulder, and you vanifh quite,
Streets, chairs, and coxcombs, run uponry fi
Vex'd to be ftill in town, I knit my brow,
Look four, and hum a tune, as you may now.

THE

BASSET-TABLE,

AN

ECLOGUE.

CARDELIA. SMILINDA.

CARDELIA.

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LOVET.

Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I ftay, Though time is precious, and I want fome tea.

CARDELIA

25

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SMILINDA

How many maids have Sharper's vows de-
ceiv'd!

How many curs'd the moment they believ'd!
Yet his known falfehoods could no warning prove:
Ah! what is warning to a maid in love?

CARDELIA.

But of what marble must that breast be form'd, 75
To gaze on Baffet, and remain unwarm'd?
When kings, queens, knaves, are fet in decent
rank;

Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank,
Guineas, half-guineas, all the fhining train;
The winner's pleafure, and the lofer's pain: S
In bright confufion open Rouleaus lie,
They trike the foul, and glitter in the eye.
Fir'd by the fight, all reafon I difdain;
My paflions rife, and will not bear the rein.
Look upon Baffet, you who reafon boast;
And fee if reafon must not there be loft.

SMILINDA.

85

What more than marble must that heart com.
pofe,

Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows?
Then, when he trembles! when his blushes rife!
When awful love feems melting in his eyes! 90
With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves:
He loves,---I whisper to myself, he loves!
Such unfeign'd paffion in his looks appears,
I lose my memory of my former fears;
My panting heart confeffes all his charms,
I yield at once, and fink into his arms.
Think of that moment, you who Prudence boaft;
For fuch a moment, Prudence well were loft.

CARDELIA.

95

At the Groom-Porter's, batter'd bullies play,
Some Dukes at Marybone bowl time away.
But who the bowl, or rattling dice compares 100
To Baflet's heavenly joys, and pleafing cares?

SMILINDA.

Soft Simplicetta doats upon a Beau ;

Prudina likes a Man, and laughs at fhow.

Their feveral graces in my Sharper meet; 105
Strong as the footman, as the mafter sweet.

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UN JOUR, DIT UN AUTEUR, &C.

ONCE (fays an Author, where I need not fay)
Two Travellers found an Oyster in their way;
Both fierce, both hungry; the difpute grew
ftrong,

While fcale in hand Dame Juftice pafs'd along.
Before her each with clamour pleads the laws,
Explain'd the matter, and would win the caule.
Dame Juftice weighing long the doubtful right,
Takes, opens, fwallows it, before their fight.
The caufe of ftrife remov'd fo rarely well,
There take (fays juftice) take you each a Shell.
We thrive at Westminster on fools like you;
'Twas a fat Oyster---live in Peace---Adieu.

A PROLOGUE

BY MR. POPE.

To a Play for Mr. DENNIS's Benefit, in 1733, when he was old, blind, and in great diftren, a little before his death.

AS when that Hero, who in each campaign Had bray'd the Goth, and many a Vandal flain,

5

Lay fortune-truck, a fpectacle of woe!
Wept by each friend, forgiv'n by every fne;
Was there a generous, a reflecting mind,
But pitied Belifarious old and blind?
Was there a Chief but melted at the fight?
A common Soldier, but who clubb'd his Mite?
Such, fuch emotions should in Britons rife,
When prefs'd by want and weakness Dennis lies; 10
Dennis, who long had warr'd with modern Hurs,
Their quibbles routed, and defy'd their puns;
A defperate bulwark, fturdy, firm, and fierce,
Against the Gothic fons of frozen verfe:
How chang'd from him who made the boxes
groan,

15

And fhook the stage with thunders all his own!
Stood up to dafh each vain Pretender's hope,
Maul the French tyrant, or pull down the Pope!
If there's a Briton then, true bred and born,
Who holds dragoons and wooden fhoes in fcora; 20
If there's a Critic of diftinguifh'd rage;
If there's a Senior, who contemns this age;

ANSWER to the following Queftion of Let him to-night his juft affiftance lend,

MRS. HOWE.

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And be the Critic's, Briton's, Old Man's Friesd.

Occafioned by fome Verfes of his Grace

the Duke of BUCKINGHAM.

MUSE, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live, for Buckingham com-
mends.

Let crowds of critics now my verse affail,
Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers Tail:
This more than pays whole years of thanklefs
pain,

Time health, and fortune, are not loft in vain.
Sheffield approves, confenting Phoebus bends,
And I and malice from this hour are friends.

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