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Not as his gaoler, but his friendly guide,

Wipe therefore all thy pencils, and prepare While he for his great journey did provide. To draw a prospect now of clearer air.

Oh couldīt thou express the yearnings of his mind Paint in an eastern sky new dawning day, To his poor mourning people left behind ! 475 And chcre the embryos of time display; But that I fear will ev'n thy skill deceive,

The forms of many smiling years to come, 535 None but a foul like his such goodness could con- | Just ripe for birth, and labouring from their womb; ceive.

Each Iruggling which shall eldership obtain, For though a stubborn race deserving ill,

To be firit grac'd with mighty James's reign. Yet would he fhew himself a father still.

Let the dread monarch on his throne appear, Therefore he chose for that peculiar care, 480 Place too the charming partner of it there. 540 His crown's, his virtuc's, and his mercy's heir. O’er his their wings let Fame and Triumph spread, Great James, who to his throne does now fucceed, And soft-ey'd Cupids hover o'er her head; And charg'd him tenderly his flocks to feed; In his, paint smiling, yet majestic grace, To guide them too, too apt to run allray,

But all the wealth of beauty ir. her face. And keep the foxes and the wolves away. 485 Then from the different corners of the earth 545

Here, paiuter, if thon canıt, thy art improve, Describe applauding nations coming forth, And Thew the wonders of fraternal love;

Homage to pay, or humble peace to gain, How mourning James by fading Charles did fand, And own auspicious orens from his reign. The dying grasping the surviving hand;

Set at long distance his contracted foes How round each other's necks their arms they shrinking from what they dare not now oppose; cant,

Draw shame or m an despair in all their eyes, 551 Moan'd with endearing murniurings, and ena And terror left th’avenging hand the uld rise. brac'd;

But where his smiles extend, draw beauteous pence, And of their parting pangs such marks dit give, The poor man's chearful toils, the rich inan's cale;

Twas hard to guess which yt could longest live. Here, shepherds piping to their feeding sheep, 555 Both their fad tongues quite lof the power to Speak, | Orkretch'd at length in their war. n hutsaileep; And their kind hearts seem'd both prepar'd to There joliy hinds spread through the fulery fields, break,

495 Reaping such harveits as their tillage yi Ids; Here Ict thy curious pencil next display, Or ihiter'd froni the scorchings of the sun, Huw round his bed a beauteous offspring loy, Their libours ended, and repast begun; 560 With their great facher's blefling to be crown'd 2 Rang'd on green banks, which they themselves did Like young fierce lions stretchi'd upon the ground,

raide, And in majestic silent for ow drown'd. 500j Singing their own content, and ruler's praise.

This done, suppose the ghastly minute nigh, Draw beauteous :neadows, gardens, groves, and And paint the griefs of the fad ttanders by;

bowers, Th' unweary'd reverend father's pious care, Where Contemplation beit may pass her hours : Offering (as oft as tears could stop) a prayer. Tilid with chatte lovers plighting conitant hearts, Of kindred nobles draw a forrowing train, 505 Rjoicing Mutes, and encourag'd Irts. 506 Whose looks may fp_ak how much they shar'd his Draw every thing like this that thought can frame, pain ;

Bait luiting with thy theme, great James's fame.. How from carh groan of his, deriving finart, Known for the man who from his youthful years, Each fetch'd another from a tortur'd heart.

By mighty deeds has earn'd the crown he wiars; Mingled with these, his faithful fervants place, Whose conquering arni far:envy'd wonders With different lines of woe in ev sy face.


571 With downcast heads, swoln brcaits, and streaming When an vrgrateful people's cause h: fought ; eyes,

When for their rights he his brave sword employ'd, And lighs that inount in vain the unrelenting skis. Who in ritum would have his rights destroy'd : But yet there still remains a talk bchind, But heaven such injur'd inerit did regard

575 Er which thy readieit art may labour find

(As heaven in tim true virtue will reward); At dittance let the mourning qu’on appear, 515 So to a throne by Proviience he rose, But where fud news too fuon may rich her ear;) And all who e'er were his, were Providence's focs. describe her proftrate to the throne alove, leading with prayer the tender cauf: ot live: thew troops of angels hovering from the sky, For they, whene'er the called, were always nigh); et them attend her cries, and hear her moun, 521

With looks of beauteous fadnofs like her ow!,
Because they know her lord's great doom is fealid,

1. And cannot (though she asks ii) be repeal's.

By this time think the works of Fate is done, 925T DID but look and love a-while, o any farther iad defcription shun,

'Twas but for one half-hour;
how him not pale and brcathless on his bed, Then to refit I had no will,
I would make all gizers on thy art fall dead;

And now I have no power.
And thou thyself to such a scene of woe
Add a new piece, and thy own itsiue grow. 530 4 (G) 2


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To the Right Honourable THOMAS Earl of Ossory, Baron of Moor Park, Kaigh:

of the most Noble Order of the Garter, &c.



HOUGH never any man had more need of excuse for a prefumption of this 03

ture than I have now; yet, when I have laid out every way to find one, your lordship’s goodness must be my best refuge: and therefore I humbly cast this at you feet for protection, and myself for pardon.

My Lord, I have great need of protection ; for to the best of my heart I have here published in some measure the truth, and I would have it thought honestly too (a praca tice never more out of countenance than now): yet truth and honour are things shich your lordship must needs be kind to, because they are relations to your nature, and never left you.

'Twould be a second presumption in me to pretend in this a panegyric on your lord. Ship; for it would require more art to do your virtue justice, than to flatter any othe:

If I have ventured at a hint of the present sufferings of that great prince mentioned is the latter end of this paper, with favour from your lordship I hope to add a fecord ment, and do all those great and good men justice, that have in his calamities fluck fait

fo, çallant a friend and so good a master. To write and finish which great subice fathilly, and to be honoured with your lordship’s patronage in what I may do, and pour approbation, or at least pardon, in what I have done, will be the greates pride of

My Lord,
Your moft humble admirer and servant,






My father was (a thing now rare)

Loyal and brave, my mother chaste and fair : 1.

The pledge of marriage-vows was only 1 ;

Alone I liv'd thcir much-lov'd fondled boy : Tumhigh oily weatere never lefto date Where only heath, coarse fern, and furzes They itrove to raise my mind, and with it grew

They gave me generous education, high 19w,

'their joy.
Where (nipt by picrcing air)
The :-s in tatter'd fleeces hardly gaze,

The sages that instructed me in arts,
Led by uncouth thoughts and care,

And knowledge, oft would praise my parts, Wid:oo much his pensive mind amaze,

And chear my parents longing hearts.

When I was call'd to a dispute, Andenng band, whose Muse was crazy

My fellow-pupils oft stood mute; { O,

Yet never Envy did disjoin Cloy'c vn the nauseous follies of the buzzing

'Their hearts from me, nor Pride distemper mine.

Thus my first years in happiness I past, Came, book'j about him, sigh'd, and laid him

Nor any bitter cup did taste: dovn;

Bui, oh! a deadly portion came at last. 'Twas far from any path, but where the earth

As I lay loosely on my bed, Was ba! ., ant naked all as at her birth,

A thousand plcalant thoughts triumphing in my W?? by the word it first was made,

head, Ere God had said, Let grass and herbs and every green thing grow,

And as my sense on the rich banquet fed,

A voice (it fecm'd no more, so busy I With fruitful trees after their kind, and it was so. The whistling winds blew fiercely round his Pierc'd through my ears; Arise, thy good Senan

Was with myself, I saw not who was nigh) head,

der's dead. Cold was his lodging, hard his bed; It shook my brain, and from their feast my fright. Aloft his eyes on the wide heavens he cast,

ed fcnfes fled, Where we are told Peace only's found at last : And a he did its hopeless distance fee,

IV. bigh'd deep, and cry’d, How far is Pcace from me!

From thence fad difcontent, uneasy fears,

And anxious doubts of what I had to do,
Nor ended there his moan;

Grew with fucceeding years.
The distance of his future joy

The world was wide, but whither should I go? Had been enough to give him pain alone;

1, whose blooming hopes all wither'd were, But who can undergo

Who'd little fortune, and a deal of care ? Despair of ease to come, with weight of present

To Britain's great metropolis I stray'd, woc?

Where Fortune's general game is Down his affli&cd face

play'd; The trickling tears had fream'd so fast a pace,

Where honesty and wit are often prais'd, As left a path worn by their briny race.

But fools and knaves are fortunate and rais'd; Swoln was his breast with fighs, his well. My forward fpirit prompted me to find proportion'd limbs as useless fell,

A converse equal to my mind : Whilst the poor trunk (unable to suitain

But by raw judgment easily milled, Itself) lay rackt, and shaking with its pain.

(As giddy callow boys I heard his groans as I was walking by,

Are very fond of toys) And (urg'd by pity, went aside, to see

I miss'd the brave and wife, and in their fead What the sad cause could be

On every sort of vanity I fed. Had press’d his state so low, and rais'd his plaints

Gay coxcombs, cowards, knaves, and prating so high.

On me he fixt his eyes. I crav'd,

Bullies of o'er.grown bulks and little souls,
Why so forlorn? he vainly rav’d. Gameters, half wits, and spendthrifts (such as

Feace to his mind I did command:
But, oh! my words were hardly at an end,

Mischievous midnight frolics, bred by drink
When I perceiv'd it was my friend

Are gallantry and wit,
My much-lov'd friend; fo down I

Because to their lewd understandings fit)

Were those wherewith two years at least I spent, And begg'd that I might share his To all their fulsome follies most incorrigibly bent; fate :

Till at the last, myself more to abuse, I laid my cheek to his, when with a gale

I grew in love with a deceitful Musé. of lighs he cas'd his becast, and thus began his tale:


No fair deceiver ever us’d such charms,
I am a wretch of honest race :

T'ensnare a tender youth, and win his heart : My parents aut obscure, nor high in titles were,

Or, when she had him in her arus, They left me heir to no disgrace,

Secur'd his love with greater alt.





I fancy'd, or I dream'd (as poets always do)

A line came forth, but such a one, No beauty with my Muse's might compare.

No traveling matron in her child-birth pains, Lofty she seem'd, and on her front sat a majef Full of the joyful hopes to bear a son, tic air,

Was more astonith'd at th' unlook'd-for frase Awful, yet kind; severe, yet fair..

Of some deform'd baboon, or ape, Upon her head a crown she bore Than I was at the hideous issue of my brains. Of laurel, which she told me should be mine :

I tore my paper, ftabb'd my peri,
And round her ivory neck the wore

And swore I'd never write again, A rope of largest pearl. Each part of her did shine Rcfolv'd to be a doating fool no more. With jewels and with gold,

But when my reckoning I began to make,
Numberless to be told ;

I found too long I'd slept, and was too late awake; Which in imagination as I did behold,

I found m' ungrateful Muse, for whose false And lov'd, and wonder'd more and


I did myself undo, Said she, These riches all, my darling, shall be

Had robb'd me of my dearest store, thinc,

My precious time, my friends, and reputation 130; Riches which never poet had before.

And left me helpless, friendlcís, very proud, oi She promis'd me to raise my fortune and my name,

pour, By royal favour, and by endless famc; But never told

VII, How hard they were to yet, how difficult to hold. Reason, which in base bonds my folly had etThus by the arts of this moft Ny

Dcluder was I caught,

I straight to council callid;
To her bewitching bondage brought.

Like some old faithful friend, whom long ago
Eternal constancy we swore,

I had cashier'd, to please my flattering ialr. A thousand times our vows were doubled o'er :

To me with readiness he did repair, And as we did in our entrancements lie,

Express'd much tender chearfulness, to find I thought no pleasure c'er was wrought so high,

Experience had restor'd him to my mind; No pair so happy as my Muse and i.

And loyally did to me thow,

How much himself he did abuse,

Who credited a flattering, false, deftrudive, tree
Ne'er was young lover half so fond cherous Mufe.
When first his pufillage he lost,

I ask'd the causes why. He said,
Or could of half my pleasure boast.

'Twas never known a Muse e'er flaid
We never met but we enjoy'd, When Fortune fled; for Fortune is a bawd
Still transported, never cloy’d. To all the Nine that on Parnallus dweil,
Chambers, closets, fields, and groves, Where those so fam'd delightful fountains in
Bore witness of our daily loves; of poetry, which there does ever flow;
And on the bark of every trec

And where wit’s lusty, Mining god You might the marks of our cndearments see,

Keeps his choice feraglio. Distichs, pofies, and the pointed So whilst our fortune smiles, our thoughts aip bits

Plealure and fame 's our business, and defire, Of satire (written when a poet meets

Then, too, if we find
His Mufe's caterwauling fits)

A promptness in the mind,
You might on every rhind behold, and swear The Muse is always ready, always kind.
I and my Clio had been at it there.

But if th' old harlot, Furtune, once deniss Nay, by my Muse too I was bleft Her favour, all our pleasure and rich faacy dies With offsprings of the choiceit kinds, And then th' young, Dippery jilt, the Muse, ta Such as have pleas'd the noblest from us flies.

al minds, And been approv'd by judgments of the best.

But in this most transporting height,
Whence I look'd down, and laught To the whole tale I gave attention due ;
at fate,

And as right search into myfelf I made,
All of a sudden I was alter'd grown;

I found all he had said

Was very honest, very true. My faithless Muse, my faithless Muse, was

O how l hugg'd my wekoine friese! gone :

And much my Muse I could not discommend. I try'd if I a verse could frame :

For I ne'er liv'd in Fortune's grace.) Oft I in vain invok'd my Clio's name.

She always turn'd her back, and fled from De The more I ftrove, the more I.

apace, failid,

And never once vouchlaf'd to let me see her za I chal’d, bit my per, curst my dull skull,

Then, to confirm me more, and rail'd,

He drew the veil of dotage from my eyes :) Resolv'd to force m' untoward thcught, and at See hcre, my son, (laid he) the valued price: the lait prevail J.

Thy fulfume Muse bchold, be happy, and be we

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I look'd, and saw the rampant, tawdry quean, Still when she spoke she meant another way;
With a more horrid train

And when she curs'd, she seem'd to Than ever yet to satire lent a tale,

pray. Or haunted Chloris in the mall.

Her hellish charms had all a holy dress, The first was he who ltunk of that rank verse

And bore the name of godliness, In which he wrote his Sodom Farce; All her familiars seem'd the sons of Peace. A wretch whom old diseases did so bite,

Honest habits they all wore,
That he writ bawdry sure in spite, In outward show most lamb-like and divine :
To ruin and disgrace it quite.

But inward of all vices they had store,
Philosophers of old did so cxpress

Grcedy as wolves, and sensual too as swine. Their art, and shew'd it in their nastiness. Like her, the sacred scriptures they had all by heart,

Next him appear'd that blundering sot, Moft casily could quote, and turn to any part, Who a late Session of the Poets wrote. Backward repeat it all, as witches their prayers do, Nature has mark'd him for a heavy fool;

And, for their turn, interpret backward too, By 's flat broad face you'll know the Idolatry with her was held impure, owl.

Because, besides herself, no idol she'd endure. The other birds have hooted him from light; Though not to paint, she'd arts to change the Much buffeting has made him love the night,

face, And only in the dark he strays;

And alter it in heavenly fashion. Still wretch enough to live, with worse fools Lewd whining the defin'd a mark of grace, spends his days,

And making ugly faces was mortification. And for old shoes and scraps repeats dull Her late dead pander was of well-known fame, plays.

Old Presbyter Rebellion was his name: Then next there follow'd, to make up the She a sworn foe to king, his peace, and laws, throng,

So will be ever, and was callid (bless us!) the good Lord Lampoon and Monsieur Song,

old cause.
Who fought her love, and promis'd

To make her famous at the court.

A time there was (a fad one too)
The city Poet too was there,

When all things wore the face of woe, In a black fatin cap and his own hair,

When many horrors rag'd in this our land, And begg'd that he might have the ho And a destroying angel was sent down,

To scourge the pride of this rebellious town. To beget a pageant on her

He came, and o'er all Britain stretch'd his conFor the city's next lord-mayor.

quering hand : Her favours she to none deny'd :

Till in th' untrudden streets unwholesome grass They took her all by turns aside.

Grew of great stalk, its colour gross, Till at the last up in the rear there came

And melancholic poisonous green; The Poets' scandal, and the Muses' shame, Like those coarse fickly weeds on an old dunghill A beait of monstrous guise, and Libel was his seen,

Where some murrain-murther'd hog, But let me pause, for 'twill ask time to tell

Poison'd cat, or strangled dog, How he was born, how bred and where, and where In rottenness had long unbury'd laid, he now does dwell.

And the cold foil productive made.

Birds of ill omen hover'd in the air,

And by their cries bade us for graves prepare;
He paus'a, and thus renew'd his tale. And, as our destiny they leem'd e unfold,
Down in an obscure vale,

Dropt dead of the same fate they had forecold. 'Midft fogs and fens, whence mists and vapours That dire commission ended, down there çamc

Another angel with a sword of flame :
Where never sun was seen by eyes,

Defolation soon he made,
Under a desert wood,

And our new Sodom low in ashes laid. Which no man own, but all wild beasts were Diftra&ions and distrusts then did amongst us rise, bred,

When, in her pious old disguise, ad kept their horrid dens, hy prey far forag'd fed, This witch with all her mischief-making train An ill-pil'd cottage ftood,

Began to fhew herself again. Built of men's bones flaughe s'd in civil war, The sons of old Rebellion straight the summond By magic art brought thither from afar, There liv'd a widow'd witch,

Straight they were ready at her call: That usd to mamble curses eve and morn,

Once more th’old bait before their eyes she cast, Like one whom wants and care had

That and her love they long'd to worn;

tafte; Meagre her looks, and funk her eyes, And to her lunt fie drew them all at last. Yer mischiefs Itudy'd, difcords did devise. So Rouben (we may read of heretofore) Sh' appeared huinble, but it was her pride : Was led aftray, a:dlad pollution with his father's Flow is her speech, in fimblance fanctify'd,





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