And fprinkled in the captain's face

The marks of her peculiar grace

To close this point, we need not roam

For inftances fo far from home.

What parts gay France from fober Spain?
A little rifing rocky chain.

505

Of men born fouth or north o'th' hill,

Those seldom move, thefe ne'er ftand ftill.

Dick, you love maps, and may perceive
Rome not far diftant from Geneve.
If the good Pope remains at home,

510

He's the first prince in Christendom.

Choose then, good Pope, at home to stay,
Nor weftward curious take thy way:

Thy way unhappy fhould't thou take

515

From Tyber's bank to Leman lake,

Thou art an aged priest no more,
But a young flaring painted whore :

Here, with an artful smile, quoth Dick, Your proofs come mighty full and thick

530

The bard, on this extenfive chapter
Wound up into poetic rapture,
Continued: Richard, caft your eye
By night upon a winter-sky:
Caft it by day-light on the ftrand,
Which compaffes fair Albion's land:
If you can count the stars that glow
Above, or fands that lie below,

535

Into thofe common places look,

Which from great authors I have took,
And count the proofs I have collected,

540

To have my writings well protected.
These I lay by for time of need,
And thou may'ft at thy leifure read.
For, ftanding every critic's rage,
I fafely will to future age
My fyflem, as a gift, bequeath,
Victorious over fpight and death.

545

C AN TO

III.

RICHARD, who now was half asleep,

Rous'd, nor would longer filence keep;

And fenfe like this, in vocal breath,
Broke from his two-fold hedge of teeth.
Now, if this phrase too harsh be thought,
Pope, tell the world, 'tis not my fault.
Old Homer taught us thus to speak ;

If 'tis not fenfe, at least 'tis Greek.

5

As

Seeing aright, we see our woes:

Then what avails it to have eyes?
From ignorance our comfort flows,
The only wretched are the wife.

We wearied fhould lie down in death,
This cheat of life would take no more;
If you thought fame but stinking breath,
And Phyllis but a perjur'd whore.

AD VIRUM DOCTISSIMUM DOMINUM SAMUELEM SHAW, CUM THESES DE ICTERO PRO GRADU DOCTORIS

PHO

DEFENDERET, 4 JUNII, 1692.

HEBE potens fævis morbis vel lædere gentes,
Læfas folerti vel relevare manu,

Afpice tu decus hoc noftrum, placidufque fatere
Indomitus quantum profit in arte labor :
Non icterum pofthac peftemve minaberis orbi,
Fortius hic juvenis dum medicamen habet:

Mitte dehinc iras, et nato carmina dona;
Neglectum telum dejice, fume lyram.

O

TRANSLATION.

BY MR. COOK E.

! PHOEBUS, deity, whose powerful hand
Can fpread diseases through the joyful land,
Alike all-powerful to relieve the pain,
And bid the groaning nations smile again;
When this our pride you fee, confess you find
In him what art can do with labour join'd:
N

VOL. XXXII.

No

No more the world thy direful threats fhall fear,
While he, the youth, our remedy, is near ;
Supprefs thy rage; with verse thy son inspire,
The dart neglected, to affume the lyre.

ON THE

TAKING

THE

O F NAMU R.

HE town which Louis bought, Nassau re-claims, And brings instead of bribes avenging flames. Now, Louis, take thy titles from above, Boileau fhall fing, and we'll believe thee Jove: Jove gain'd his mistress with alluring gold, But Jove like thee was impotent and old! Active and young did he like William stand, He 'ad ftunn'd the dame, his thunder in his hand.

IN IMITATION OF HORACE, 3. OD. II.

WRITTEN

I.

I N 1692.

HOW long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie

In the lethargic fleep, the fad repofe,
By which thy close, thy conftant enemy,
Has foftly lull'd thee to thy woes?
Or wake, degenerate ifle, or cease to own
What thy old kings in Gallic camps have done;

The

The spoils they brought thee back, the crowns they

won:

William (fo fate requires) again is arm'd

Thy father to the field is gone: Again Maria weeps her abfent lord, For thy repofe content to rule alone.

Are thy enervate sons not yet alarm'd?

When William fights, dare they look tamely on,
So flow to get their ancient fame restor'd,

As nor to melt at Beauty's tears, nor follow Valour's fword?

II.

See the repenting ifle awakes,

Her vicious chains the generous goddess breaks :
The fogs around her temples are difpell'd ;

Abroad fhe looks, and fees arm'd Belgia ftand

Prepar'd to meet their common Lord's command; Her lions roaring by her fide, her arrows in her hand; And, blushing to have been fo long with-held, Weeps off her crime, and hastens to the field. Henceforth her youth shall be inur'd to bear Hazardous toil and active war;

To march beneath the dog-star's raging heat,
Patient of fummer's draught, and martial fweat;
And only grieve in winter's camps to find
Its days too fhort for labours they defign'd:
All night beneath hard heavy arms to watch;

All day to mount the trench, to ftorm the breach;
And all the rugged paths to tread,

Where William and his virtue lead.