Good antient Members with a folemn Face,
Propofe that Safety give to Order place;
And what they dare not openly dissuade,
Is by Expedients ineffectual made.
E'en F---ch and Mu---ve, whom the Court carefs,
Exalt its Praises, but its Power depress;
And that Impartial Justice may be seen,
Confirm to Friends what they refus'd the Queen.
Bishops who most advanc'd Good 7---'s Caufe
In Church and State, now reap deferv'd Applause :
While those who rather made the Tow'r their Choice
Are ftil'd Unchristian by the Nation's Voice.
Avow'dly now St. David's Cause thy own,
And ----es's Votes for Simony atone.
Archbishop K--n shall from Longleat be drawn,
While firm Nonjurors from behind ftand crowding
for the Lawn.
And thou, great W-----th, to reward thy Charge,
Shalt fail to Lambeth in his Grace's Barge.
See by bafe Rebels 7---
----es the Juft betray'd,
See his Three Realms by vile U----rs sway'd;.
Then see with Joy his lawful H--- restor❜d,.
And erring Nations own their injur'd L----.
O would kind Heaven fo long my Life maintain, Infpiring Raptures worthy such a Reign!
Not Thracian St. 7----ns should with me contend,
Nor my fweet Lays harmonious Ha---nd mend :
Not tho' young Davenant St. J---ns should protect,
Or the fhrewd Doctor Ha---nd's Lines correct.
Nay should Tr---am in St. Maws compare his Songs
to mine;
[refign.
Tr----am, tho' St. Maws were Judge, his Laurel should
Prepare, Aufpicious Youth, thy Friends to meet ;
Sir G--- already has prepar'd the Fleet.
Should Rival Neptune (who with envious Mind
In times of Danger ftill this Chief confin'd)
Now fend the Gout, the Hero to disgrace,
Honest G--- Ch---- may fupply his Place.
Co grafp forbidden Store;
Eafe, anxious World, your fruitless Pain,
Your ftudy'd Labours fhall prove vain,
Your Alchymy unbleft;
Whilft Seeds of far more precious Ore
Are ripen'd in my Breast:
My Breaft, the Forge of happier Love,
Where my Lucinda lives;
And the rich Stock does so improve,
As the her Art employs;
That ev'ry Smile and Touch the gives,
Turns all to Golden Joys.
Since then we can fuch Treasures raise,
Let's no Expence refuse;
In Love let's lay out all our Days;
How can we e'er be Poor,
When ev'ry Bleffing that we use
Begets a thousand more?
A SONG by Sir George Ethridge.
N fome kind Dream upon her, Slumber, steal,
Breath gentlest Words into her Ears,
Words full of Love, but full of Fears;
Such Words as may prevail, like Pray'ıs
From a Poor dying Martyr's Tongue,
By the fweet Voice of Pity fung.
Touch with the Voice the more inchanting Lute, To make the Charms ftrike all Repulfes mute:
These may infenfibly impart,
My tender Wishes to her Heart,
And by a Sympathetick Force,
"So tune its Strings to Love's Difcourfe;
That when my Griefs compel a Groan,
Her Sighs may Eccho to my Moan.
A SONG by Mr. John How.
H Who Beauty's Pow'r did never prove?
WOW can they tafte of Joys or Grief,
Love's all our Torment, our Relief,
Our Fate depends alone on Love :
Were I in heavy Chains confin'd,
Neara's Smiles would ease that State;
Nor Wealth, nor Pow'r, could bless my Mind,
Curs'd by her Abfence, or her Hate.
Of all the Plants which fhade the Field,
The fragrant Myrtle does furpafs;
No Flow'r fo gay, that does not yield
To blooming Rofes gaudy Drefs.
No Star fo bright that can be feen,
When Phabus Glories gild the Skies;
No Nymph fo proud adorns the Green,
But yields to fair Neara's Eyes.
The Amorous Swains no Off'rings bring,
To Cupid's Altar as before;
To her they play, to her they fing,
And own in Love no other Pow'r.
If thou thy Empire wilt regain,
On thy Conqu❜ror try thy Dart
Touch with Pity for my Pain
Neara's cold difdainful Heart.
Part of VIRGIL'S IVth Georgick.
By Mr. CREECH.
Ariftaus, having loft his Bees goes by his Mother's Direction to Proteus. to know why the Gods had fent this Plague; Proteus tells him they fent it to revenge the Injury he had done Orpheus, in being the Caufe of his Bride's Death, and fo goes on with the Story of his Paffion.
OW fcorching Sirius burnt the thirsty Moors,
The Earth lay chop'd, no Spring supply'd his Flood, And mid-day Rays boil'd up the Streams to Mud: When Proteus coming to his ufual Cave,
The Sea-Calf following spouts the brackish Wave: Spread o'er the Sand the fcatter'd Monsters lay, He (like a Shepherd at the clofe of day,
When Heifers feek their Stalls, and round a Rock
The bleating Lambs the hungry Wolves provoke)
Sits mid't the Beach, and counts the fcaly Flock.
Scarce was he laid, fcarce Sleep had feal'd his Eyes,
When Aristaus, eager to furprise,
Invades and binds him: Strait he ftarts and roars,
And with thrill Noifes fills the ecchoing Shoars :
He flies to his old Arts, and frives to 'fcape'
By frequent Change, and varying of his Shape:
All monstrous Forms put on, he would appear
A Flame, a Flood, a Lion, or a Bear:
When nought avail'd, he turn'd himself again ;
And thus fpoke with the Accent of a Man:
By whofe Advice haft thou fo rafhly preft,
Bold Youth, on me? And what do'st thou request?
You know, great God, you know, the Swain reply'd,
For who can cheat you? who his Wants can hide?
But ftrive to change no more: I humbly come,
And by the Gods commands, to know my Doom:
For what I'm punish'd, whence these Plagues arose,
And by what means I may retrieve my Lofs:
This faid, the angry God with fury shook,
His Eyes fhot flame, and horror chang'd his Look,
He gnash'd his Teeth, and thus at last he spoke.
No common Gods, no common Gods pursue,
Thou suffer'st what to thy great Crimes is due ;
At wretched Orpheus suit these Plagues commence,
Tho' (Fate being kind) too small for thy Offence.
To Heaven's strict Justice he his Wrongs apply'd,
And call'd down Vengeance for his perish'd Bride:
She, while she fled from thee, unhappy Maid,
By heedless Fear to treacherous Banks betray'd,
Ne'er faw the Snake glide o'er the graffie Ground,
But e'er the knew the Foe, fhe felt the Wound:
Her fellow Dryads fill'd the Hills with cries,
In Groans the foften'd Rhodope replies;
Rough Thrace, the Getes, and Hebrus ftreams lament,
Forget their Fury, and in Grief confent:
While he to doleful tunes his Strings does move,
And ftrove to folace his uneafie Love :
Thee, thee, dear Bride, on defart shoars alone
He mourn'd at rising, and at setting Sun :
His restless Love did natural Fears expel,
He dar'd to enter the black Jaws of Hell,
He faw the Grove, where gloomy horrors spread,
The Ghosts and ghaftly Tyrant of the dead;
With those rough Pow'rs, that there feverely reign,
Unus'd to pity, when poor Men complain:
Heftrook his Harp, and strait a numerous Throng Of airy Feople fled to hear the Song,
Thither vaft Troops of wretched Lovers came, And fhriekt at the Remembrance of their Flame; With heavy Grief and gloomy Thoughts oppreft, Meagre each Shape, and Wounds in every Breaft;
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