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Above your lucid shoulders locks display'd,
Prone to defcend, fhall foften light with fhade.
All, with a nameless air and mein, unite,
And, as you move, each movement is delight.
Tun'd is your melting tongue and equal mind,
At once by knowledge heighten'd and refin'd.
The Virtues next to Beauty's nod incline;
For, where they lend not light, she cannot shine;
Let thefe, the temperate fenfe of tefte reveal,
And give, while nature spreads the fimple meal.
The palate pure, to relish health defign'd,
From luxury as taintless as your mind.
The Virtues, Chastity and Truth, impart,
And mould to fweet benevolence your heart.
Thus Beauty finish'd-Thus the gains the fway,
And Love ftill follows where the leads the way.
From every gift of heaven, to charm is thine;
To love, to praise, and to adore, be mine.

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SENT то

MRS. BRIDGET JONES,
With THE WANDERER.

Alluding to an Episode, where a young Man turns
Hermit, for the lofs of his wife Olympia.

HEN with delight fond Love on Beauty dwelt,

WH

While this the youth, and that the fair expreft,

Faint was his joy compar'd to what I felt,

When in my angel Biddy's prefence bleft.

Tell

Tell her, my Muse, in soft, sad, fighing breath,
If the his piercing grief can pitying fee,
Worfe than to him was his Olympia's death,
From her each moment's abfence is to me.

ON

FALSE HISTORIANS:

SUR

A SAT IR E.

URE of all plagues with which dull profe is curst, Scandals, from false hiftorians, spot the worst.

In quest of these the Mufe fhall first advance,

Bold, to explore the regions of romance;
Romance, call'd Hiftory-Lo! at once the skims
The visionary world of monkish whims;
Where fallacy, in legends, wildly shines,
And vengeance glares from violated shrines;
Where faints perform all tricks, and startle thought
With many a miracle that ne'er was wrought;
Saints that never liv'd, or fuch as juftice paints,
Jugglers, on fuperftition palm'd for faints.
Here, canoniz'd, let creed-mongers be shown,
Red-letter'd faints, and red affaffins known;
While those they martyr'd, such as angels rofe!
All black enroll'd among religion's foes,

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Snatch'd

Snatch'd by fulphureous clouds, a LYE proclaims
Number'd with fiends, and plung'd in endless flames.
History, from air or deep draws many a spright,
Such as, from nurse or priest, might boys affright ; 20
Or fuch as but o'er feverish flumbers fly,
And fix in melancholy frenzy's eye.

Now meteors make enthusiast-wonder stare,
And image wild portentous wars in air!

Seers fall intranc'd! fome wizard's lawless skill

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Now whirls, now fetters nature's works at will!
Thus Hiftory, by machine, mock-epic; feems,
Not from poetic, but from monkish dreams.

The devil, who priest and forcerer must obey,
The forcerer us'd to raife, the parfon lay.
When Echard wav'd his pen, the history fhows,
The parfon conjur'd, and the fiend uprofe.
A camp at distance, and the fcene a wood,

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Here enter'd Noll, and there old Satan flood:

No tail his rump, his foot no hoof reveal'd;

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Like a wife cuckold, with his horns conceal'd:

Not a gay ferpent, glittering to the eye;
But more than ferpent, or than harlot fly:
For, lawyer-like, a fiend no wit can scape,
The demon ftands confeft in proper shape!

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Now fpreads his parchment, now is fign'd the scroil;

Thus Noll gains empire, and the devil has Noll.
Wondrous hiftorian! thus account for evil,
And thus for its fuccefs-'tis all the devil.

Though ne'er that devil we faw, yet one we fee,- 45
One of an author fure, and-thou art he.

But

But dufky phantoms, Mufe, no more pursue ! Now clearer objects open-yet untrue.

Awful the genuine historian's name!

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Falle ones-with what materials build they fame; só
Fabricks of fame, by dirty means made good,
As nefts of martins are compil'd of mud.
Peace be with Curll-with him I wave all ftrife,
Who pens each felon's, and each actor's life;
Biography that cooks the devil's martyrs,
And lards with luscious rapes the cheats of Chartres.
Materials, which belief in gazettes claim,
Loofe-ftrung, run gingling into History's name.
Thick as Egyptian clouds of raining flies;
As thick as worms where man corrupting lies;
As pefts obfcene that haunt the ruin'd pile;
As monsters floundering in the muddy Nile;
Minutes, Memoirs, Views and Reviews appear,
Where flander darkens each recorded year.
In a paft reign is feign'd fome amorous league;
Some ring or letter now reveals th' intrigue:
Queens, with their minions, work unseemly things,
And boys grow dukes, when catamites to kings.
Does a prince die? What poisons they surmise!
No royal mortal fure by nature dies.

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Is a prince born? What birth more base believ'd?
Or, what's more strange, his mother ne'er conceiv'd!
Thus flander popular o'er truth prevails,

And easy minds imbibe romantic tales.

Thus, 'ftead of history, fuch authors raise

Mere crude wild novels of bad hints for plays.
N

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Some

Some ufurp names-an English garreteer, From Minutes forg'd, is Monfieur Mefnager Some, while on good or ill fuccess they stare, Give conduct a complexion dark or fair : Others, as little to enquiry prone,

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Account for actions, though their spring's unknown. One ftatefman vices has, and virtues too;

Hence will contefted character enfue.

View but the black, he's fiend; the bright but fcan, 85 He's angel view him all-he's ftill a man.

But fuch hiftorians all accufe, acquit ;

No virtue these, and thofe no vice admit;
For either in a friend no fault will know,
And neither own a virtue in a foe.

Where hear-fay knowledge fits on public names,
And bold conjecture or extols or blames,
Spring party-libels; from whofe afhes dead,
A monster, mifnam'd History, lifts its head.
Contending factions croud to hear its roar !
But when once heard, it dies to noife no more.
From these no answer, no applause from those,
O'er half they fimper, and o'er half they doze.
So when in fenate, with egregious pate,
Perks up Sir. . . . . in fome deep debate ;

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He

* THE MINUTES OF MONS. MESNAGER; a book calculated to vilify the adminiftration in the four laft year of queen Anne's reign. The truth is, that this libel was not written by Monf. Mefnager, neither was any fuch book ever printed in the French tongue, from which it is impudently faid in the title-page to be tranflated. SAVAGE.

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