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XI.

The better to conceal her lewd intent

In fafety from obferving eyes,

Th' old ftrumpet did herself difguife
In comely weeds, and to the city went,
Affected truth, much modefty and grace,
And (like a worn-out-fuburb-trull) past there for
a new face.

Thither all her lovers flock'd,

And there for her fupport the found
A wight, of whom Fame's trumpet much does
found,

With all ingredients for his business stock'd,
Not unlike him whofe ftory has a place

In th' annals of Sir Hudibras.
Of all her business he took care,

And every knave or fool that to her did repair,
Had by him admittance there.

By his contrivance to her did refort
All who had been difgufted at the court.

Those whofe ambition had been croft,
Or by ill-manners had preferments loft,
Were those on whom the practis'd most her
charms,

Lay nearest to her heart, and ofteneft in her arms.
Intereft in every faction, every fe&t, the fought;

And to her lure, flattering their hopes, she brought
All those who ufe religion for a fashion.
All fuch as practife forms, and take great pains
To make their godlinefs their gains,
And thrive by the distractions of a nation,
She by her art infnar'd, and fetter'd in her chains.
Through her the Atheist hop'd to purchase tolera-
tion,

The rebel power, the beggar'd fpend-thrift lands,
Out of the king's or bishops' hands.
Nay, to her fide at laft the drew in all the rude,
Ungovernable, headlong multitude.
Promis'd ftrange liberties, and fure redress
Of never-felt, unheard-of grievances:
Pamper'd their follies, and indulg'd their hopes,
With May-day routs, November fquibs, and burn-
ing pafteboard popes.

XII.

With her in common luft did mingle all the crew,
Till at the laft fhe pregnant grew,

And from her womb, in little time, brought forth
This monftrous, moft detefted birth.
Of children born with teeth we've heard,
And fome like comets with a beard;
Which feem'd to be fore-runners of dire change:
But never hitherto was feen,

Born from a Wapping drab, or Shoreditch quean,
A form like this, fo hideous and so strange.
To help whose mother in her pains, there came
Many a well-known dame.
The bawd Hypocrify was there,
And madam Impudence the fair:

Dame Scandal with her fquinting eyes,
That loves to fet good neighbours at debate,
And raise commotions in a jealous ftate,
Was there, and Malice, queen of far-fpread lies,
With all their train of frauds and forgeries.

But midwife Mutiny, that bufy drab,
That's always talking, always
Was he that first took up the ba
And of the office most was pro
Behold its head of horrid form appears:
To fpite the pillory, it had no cars.
When straight the bawd cry'd out, 'twas
kin

To the bleft family of Pryn.
But Scandal offer'd to depofe her word,
Or oath, the father was a leré..
The nose was ugly, long and big
Broad, and fnouty like a pig;
Which fhew'd he would in dunghills love

dig;

Lov'd to caft ftinking fatires up in ill-pil'd r
And live by the corruptions of unhappy time
XIII.

They promis'd all by turns to take him,
And a hopeful youth to make him.
To nurfe he straight was fest
To a fifter-witch, though of another fort,
One who profelt no good, nor any meant:
All day fhe practis'd charms, by night the ha
flept,

Yet in the outcafts of a northern factious town,
A little fmoaky manfion of her own,
Where her familiars to her did refort,
A cell she kept.

Hell fhe ador'd, and Satan was her god;

And many an ugly loathfome tead Crawl'd round her walls, and cre Under her roof all difmal, black, and fmo Harbour'd beetles, and unwholefomeb Sprawling nefts of little cats; All which were imps fhe cherish'd with blood,

To make her fpells fucceed and gre Still at her fhrivel'd breafts they hung, whe mankind the curst,

And with these fofter-brethren was our menis
nurft.

In little time the hell-bred brat
Grew plump and fat,
Without his leading-strings could wa
And (as the forcerefs taught him) th
At feven years old he went to fchoo
Where first he grew a foe to rule.
Never would he learn as taught,
But ftill new ways affected, and new meth
fought.

Not that he wanted parts
T' improve in letters, and proceed in arts;
But, as negligent as fly,
Of all perverfenefs brutifhly was full,
(By nature idle) lov'd to shift and lie,
And was obftinately dull.
Till, spite of Nature, through great pains, the
(And th' influence of th' ill genius of our land)
At last in part began to understand.
Some infight in the Latin tongue he got:
Could fmatter pretty well, and write too a plas
hand.

For which his guardians all thought it,
In compliment to his most hopeful wit,

He fhould be fent to learn the laws, out of the good old to raise a damn'd new cause.

XIV.

which the better to improve his mind,

As by Nature he was bent

arch in hidden paths, and things long bury'd find,

wretch's converfe much he did frequent : e who this world, as that did him, disown'd, d in an unfrequented corner, where thing was pleasant, hardly healthful found, He led his hated life.

edy, and ev'n of neceffaries bare,

fervant had he, children, friend, or wife : it of a little remnant, got by fraud, all ill turns he lov'd, all good detefted, and believ'd no God)

arice in a week he chang'd a hoarded groat," With which of beggars fcraps he

bought. hen from a neighbouring fountain water got,. Not to be clean, but flake his thirst. never bloft himself, and all things else he curft. he cell in which he (though but seldom) flept,; Lay like a den, uncleans'd, unfwept: nd there thofe jewels which he lov'd he kept;. Old worn-out ftatutes, and records

common privileges, and the rights of lords. lut bound up by themselves with care were laid All the acts, refolves, and orders, made By the old long Rump-parliament, Through all the changes of its government: From which with readiness he could debate Concerning matters of the state,

down from goodly forty-one to horrid fortyeight.

XV.

His friendship much our monster fought By inftinct, and by inclination too:

So without much ado

They were together brought.

him obedience Libel fwore, and by him was he taught.

He learnt of him all goodness to deteft;
To be afham'd of no difgrace;

In all things but obedience to be beast;

o hide a coward's heart, and shew a hardy face. He taught him to call government a clog,

But to bear beatings like a dog:
T' have no religion, honefty, or fenfe,
But to profefs them all for a pretence.

Fraught with these morals, he began
To compleat him more for man:
Diftinguish'd to him in an hour
Twixt legiflative and judicial power;
How to frame a commonwealth,
And democracy, by stealth;
To palliate it at first, and cry,
'Twas but a well-mixt monarchy,
And treafon falus populi ;
VOL. II.

Into rebellion to divide the nation,
By fair committees of association;

How by a lawful means to bring
In arms against himself the king,
With a distinguishing old trick,
'Twixt perfons natural and politic;

How to make faithful fervants traitors,

Thorough-pac'd rebels legislators, And at last troopers adjutators.

Thus well inform'd, and furnish'd with enough Of fuch-like wordy, canting ftuff, Our blade fet forth, and quickly grew A leader in a factious crew.

Where-e'er he came, 'twas he first filence broke, And fwell'd with every word he spoke,

Ey which becoming faucy grace, He gain'd authority and place: By many for preferments was thought fit, For talking treafon without fear or wit; For opening failings in the state; For loving noify and unfound debate, And wearing of a mystical green ribband in his hat.

XVI.

Thus, like Alcides in his lion's skin,
He very dreadful grew,

But, like that Hercules when Love crept in,
And th' hero to his distaff drew,

His foes that found him faw he was but man:
So when my faithlefs Clio by her snare
Had brought him to her arms, and I furpriz'd him
there,

At once to hate and fcorn him I began ;
To fee how foolishly fhe'd dreft,
And for diverfion trick'd the beast,

He was poetry all o'er,

On every fide, behind, before:
About him nothing could I fee
But party colour'd poetry.
Painter's advices, litanies,
Ballads, and all the fpurious excefs

Of ills that malice could devife,

Or ever swarm'd from a licentious prefs,
Hung round about him like a spell:
And in his own hand too was writ,
That worthy piece of modern wit,
The country's late appeal.

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But from fuch ills when will our wretched state Be freed? and who fhall crush this serpent's

head?

'Tis faid we may in ancient legends read
Of a huge dragon fent by fate

To lay a finful kingdom waste :
So through it all he rang'd, devouring as he past,
And each day with a virgin broke his fast:
Till wretched matrons curft their
womb,

So hardly was their lofs endur'd:

The lovers all despair'd, and fought their

tombs

In the fame monster's jaws, and of their pains were

cur'd.

4 [H]

Till, like our monfter too, and with the fame
Curit ends, to the metropolis he came :
His cruelties renew'd again,

And every day a maid was flain.
The curfe through every family had paft,
When to the facrifice at laft

Th' unhappy monarch's only child must bow: A royal daughter needs muft fuffer then, a royal brother now.

XVII.

On him this dragon Libel needs will prey;
On him has caft

His fordid venom, and prophan'd
With fpurious verfe his ipotlefs fame,
Which fhall for ever ftand

Unblemish'd, and to ages laft,

When all his foes lie buried in their fhame.
Elfe tell me why (fome prophet that is wife)
Heaven took fuch care

To make him every thing that's rare,
Dear to the heart, defirous to the eyes.
Why do all good men bless him as he goes?

Why at his prefence fhrink his foes? Why do the brave all ftrive his honour to defend ? Why through the world is he diftinguish'd moft By titles, which but few can boast,

A moft juft mafter, and a faithful friend?
One who never yet did wrong
To high or low, to old or young?
Of him what orphan can complain?

Of him what widow make her moan?
But fuch as with him here again,
And mifs his goodness now he's gone.
If this be (as I am fure 'tis) true;
Then pr'ythee, prophet, tell me too,
Why lives he in the world's eftcem,
Not one man's foe? and then why are not all men
friends with him?

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But drooping like their captains hers, Each pendent, every streamer, hung: The feamen feem'd t' have loft their ars; Their fhips at anchor now, of which w' had heard them boast,

With ill-furl'd fails and rattlings loose, by every billow toft,

Lay like neglected harps, untun'd, unftrung; Till at the laft, provok'd with shame, Forth from their dens the baited foxes came; Foxes in council, and in fight too grave;

Seldom true, and now not brave: They blufter'd out the day with fhew of fight, And ran away in the good-natur'd night.

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With fpoils of victory and glory fraught. To him then every heart was open, down From the great man to the clown: In him rejoic'd, to him inclin'd; And as his health round the glad board did pa's, Each honeft fellow cry'd, Fill full my g'afs;

And fhew'd the fullness of his mind.
No difcontented vermin of ill times

Durst then affront him but in fhow;
Nor libel dafh him with his dirty rhymes;
Nor may he live in peace that does it now.
And whofe heart would not wifh fotoc.
That had but feen

When his tumultuous milled foes
Againft him rofe,

With what heroic grace

He chofe the weight of wrong to undergo! No tempeft on his brow, unalter'd in his face, True witness of the innocence within. But, when the meffengers did mandates bring For his retreat to foreign land, Since fent from the relenting hand Of the most loving brother, kindest king; If in his heart regret did rife, It never fcap'd his tongue or eyes; With steady virtue 'twas allay'd, And like a mighty conqueror he obey'd.

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The eldest first embrac'd,

As new-born day in beauty bright, But fad in mind as deepest night : What tenderest hearts could fay, betwixt them pait, Till grief too close upon them crept ; So fighing he withdrew, fhe turn'd away and wept. Much of the father in his breast did rife,

When on the next he fix'd his eyes,

A tender infant in the nurse's arms,

Full of kind play, and pretty charms : And as to give the farewel kifs he near it drew, About his manly neck two little arms it threw ; Smil'd in his eyes, as if it begg'd his stay,

And look'd kind things it could not

fay.

XXI.

But the great pomp of grief was yet to come. Th' appointed time was almost pait, Th' impatient tides knock'd at the fhore, and bid him hafte

To feek a foreign home;

The fummons he refolv'd t' obey, Difdaining of his fufferings to complain,

Though every step feem'd trod with pain; So forth he came, attended on his way

By a fad lamenting throng,

That bleft him, and about him hung. A weight his generous heart could hardly bear; But for the comfort that was neat,

His beauteous Mate, the fountain of his joys,
That fed his foul with love;

The cordial that can mortal pains remove,
To which all worldly bleflings elfe are toys.
I faw them ready for departure stand;

Just when approach'd the Monarch of our
land,

And took the charming Mourner by the hand:,
Texprefs all nobleft offices he ftrove,
Of royal goodnefs, and a brother's love.

Then down to the fhore fide,

Where to convey them did two royal barges ride,
With folemn pace they pafs'd,
And there fo tenderly embrac'd,
All griev'd by fympathy to fee them part,
And their kind pains touch'd each by-ftander's
heart.

Then hand in hand the pity'd pair
Turn'd round to face their fate;
She ev'n amidst afflictions fair,
He, though oppreft, ftill great.
Into th' expecting boat with hafte they went,
Where, as the troubled Fair-one to the fhore fome
wishes fent

For that dear pledge fh' ad left behind, And as her paffion grew too mighty for her mind, She of fome tears her eyes beguil'd, Which, as upon her cheek they lay, The happy hero kifs'd away, And, as fhe wept, blush'd with difdain, and fmil'd.

Strait forth they launch into the high-fwoln Thames;

The well-ftruck oars lave up the yielding streams.

All fix'd their longing eyes, and wishing stood,
Till they were got into the wider flood;
Till leffen'd out of fight, and feen no more,
Then figh'd, and turn'd into the hated fhore.

PHEDRA TO HIPPOLYTUS.

TRANSLATED OUT OF OVID.

THE ARGUMENT.

Thefeus, the fan of Egeus, baving flain the Minotaur, promifed to Ariadne, the daughter of Minos and Pafipbae, for the affiftance which fee gave bim, to carry ber bome with bim, and make her his wife; fo together with her fifler Phædra they went on board and failed to Chios, where being warned by Bacchus, be left Ariadne, and married her fifler Phadra, who afterwards, in Thefeus ber pufband's abfence, fell in love with Hippolytus ber fon-in-law, who bad vow'd celibacy, and was a bunter; therefore, fince fee could not conveniently otherwife, foe chofe by this epifle to give him an account of per passion.

IF thou 'rt unkind I ne'er fhall health enjoy,

Yet much I wish to thee, my lovely boy:
Read this, and reading how my foul is feiz'd,
Rather than not, be with my ruin pleas'd:
Thus fecrets fafe to fartheft fhores may move;
By letters foes converfe, and learn to love.
Thrice my fad tale, as I to tell it try'd,
Upon my faultering tongue abortive dy'd;
Long Shame prevail'd, nor could be conquer
quite,

But what I blufh'd to fpeak, Love made me write.
'Tis dangerous to refift the power of Love,
The gods obey him, and he's king above;
He clear'd the doubts that did my mind confound,
And promis'd me to bring thee hither bound:
Oh may he come, and in that breast of thine
Fix a kind dart, and make it flame like mine!
Yet of my wedlock vows I'll lofe no care,
Search back through all my fame, thou'lt find it
fair.

But Love long breeding to worst pain does turn;
Outward unharm'd, within, within 1 burn!
As the young bull or courfer yet untam'd,
When yok'd or bridled first, are pinch'd and
maim'd;

So my unpractis'd heart in love can find
No reft, th' unwonted weight fo toils my mind:
When young, Love's pangs by arts we may re-

move,

But in our riper years with rage we love.
To thee I yield then all my dear renown,
And pr'ythee let's together be undone.
Who would not pluck the new-blown blushing rofe,
Or the ripe fruit that courts him as it grows?
But if my virtue hitherto has gain'd
Eftcem for spotlefs, fhall it now be ftain'd?
Oh, in thy love I fhall no hazard run;
'Tis not a fin, but when 'tis coarfely done.
4 [H] a

Till in full joy diffolv'd, each falls afleep
With twining limbs, that ftill love's pofture keep;
At dawn of morning to renew delight,
So quiet craving Love, till the next night.
Then we the drowfy cells of fleep forfake,
And to our books our earlieft vifit make;
Or elfe our thoughts to their attendance call,
And there, methinks, Fancy fits queen of all;
While the poor'under-faculties refort,
And to her fickle majesty make court;
The understanding firft comes plainly clad,
But ufefully; no entrance to be had.
Next comes the will, that bully of the mind,
Follies wait on him in a troop behind;
He meets reception from the antic queen,
Who thinks her majesty's moft honour'd, when
Attended by thofe fine-dreft gentlemen.
Reafon, the honeft counfellor, this knows,
And into court with refolute virtue goes;
Lets Fancy fee her loofe irregular fway,
Then how the flattering follies fneak away!
This image, when it came, too fiercely fhook
My brain, which its foft quiet ftraight forfook;
When waking as I caft my eyes around,
Nothing but old loath'd vanities I found;
No grove, no freedom, and, what's worse to me,
No friend; for I have none compar'd with thee.
Soon then my thoughts with their old tyrant Care
Were feiz'd; which to divert, I fram'd this prayer:
Gods! life's your gift, then feafon 't with fuch
fate,

That what ye meant a bleffing prove no weight.
Let me to the remoteft part be whirl'd,
Of this your play-thing made in hafte, the world;
But grant me quiet, liberty, and peace,
By day what's necdful, and at night foft eafe;
The friend I truft in, and the fhe I love,
Then fix me; and if e'er I wifh remove,
Make me as great (that's wretched) as ye can,
Set me in power, the woefull'ft ftate of man;
To be by fools mifled, to knaves a prey,
But make life what I afk, or take 't away.

TO MR. CREECH,

UPON HIS

TRANSLATION OF LUCRETIUS.

SIR, when your hook the first time came ab
IR, when your book the firit time came abroad,
For, as to fome good-nature I pretend,
I fear'd to read, left i fhould not commend.
Lucretius english'd! 'twas a work might shake
The power of English verfe to undertake.
This all men thought; but you are born, we find,
'T' out-do the expectations of mankind;
Since you've fo well the noble task perform'd,
Envy's appeas'd, and prejudice difarm'd:
For when the rich original we perufe,
And by it try the metal you produce,
Though there indeed the pureft ore we find,
Yet fill in you it fontething feems refin'd:

Thus when the great Lucreties gives a look, And lafhes to her fpeed his fiery Mufe; Still with him you maintain an equal pace, And bear full ftretch upon him all the race; But when in rugged way we find him rein His verfe, and not fo fmooth a stroke maintain; There the advantage he receives is found, By you taught temper, and to chufe his ground Next, his philofophy you've fo expreft In genuine terms, fo plain, yet neatly dreft, Thofe murderers that now mingle it all day In fchools, may learn from you the cafy way To let us know what they would mean and Ly: If Ariftotle's friends will fhew the grace To wave for once their ftatute in that cafe. Go on then, Sir, and fince you could alpire, And reach this height, aim yet at laurels higher: Secure great injur'd Maro from the wrong He unredeem'd has labour'd with fo long In Holbourn rhyme, and, left the book frould fail, Expos'd with pictures to promote the fale: So tapfters fet out figns, for muddy ale. You're only able to retrieve his doom, And make him here as fam'd as once at Rome: For fure, when Julius firft this ifle fubdued, Your ancestors then mixt with Roman blood; Some near ally'd to that whence Ovid came, Virgil and Horace, thofe three fons of Fame; Since to their memory it is fo true, And fhews their poetry fo much in you. Go on in pity to this wretched ifle, Which ignorant poetafters do defile With loufy madrigals for lyric verfe; Instead of comedy with nafty farce. Would Plautus, Terence e'er, have been fo lewd. T' have dreft Jack-pudding up to catch the crowd? Or Sophocles five tedious acts have made, To fhew a whining fool in love betray'd By fome falfe friend or flippery chambermaid, Then, ere he hangs himfelf, bemoans his fall In a dull fpeech, and that fine language call? No, fince we live in fuch a fuifome age, When nonfenfe loads the prefs, and choaks the ftage;

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When blockheads will claim wit in nature's fight,
And every dunce, that ftarves, prefumes to write,
Exert yourfelf, defend the Mufe's caufe,
Proclaim their right, and to maintain their laws
Make the dead ancients fpeak the British tongue;
That fo each chattering daw, who aims at fang,
In his own mother-tongue may humbly read
What engines yet are wanting in his head
To make him equal to the mighty dead,
For of all Nature's works we moft fhould fcorn
The thing who thinks himself a poet bora,
Unbred, untaught, he rhymes, yet hardly fpells,
And fenfelefsly, as fquirrels jangle bells.
Such things, Sir, here abound; may therefore

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