Plain loyalty, not built on hope,
I leave to your contriver, Pope:
None loves his king and country better, Yet none was ever less their debtor.
Then let him come and take a nap-
In summer on my verdant lap:
Prefer our villas, where the Thames is,
To Kensington, or hot St. James's;
Nor shall I dull in silence sit;
For 'tis to me he owes his wit;
My groves, my echoes, and my birds,
Have taught him his poetic words.
We gardens, and you wildernesses,
Assist all poets in distresses.
Him twice a week I here expect,
To rattle Moody * for neglect;
An idle rogue, who spends his quartridge
In tippling at the Dog and Partridge;
And I can hardly get him down
Three times a week to brush my gown.
RICHMOND LODGE.
I pity you, dear Marble Hill; But hope to see you flourish still. All happiness--and so adieu.
Kind Richmond Lodge, the same to you.
'TIS strange what different thoughts inspire In men, Possession, and Desire !
Think what they wish so great a blessing;
So disappointed when possessing!
A moralist profoundly sage
(I know not in what book or page, Or whether o'er a pot of ale) Related thus the following tale. Possession, and Desire his brother, But still at variance with each other, Were seen contending in a race; And kept at first an equal pace: "Tis said, their course continued long, For this was active, that was strong: Till Envy, Slander, Sloth, and Doubt, Misled them many a league about; Seduc'd by some deceiving light, They take the wrong way for the right; Through slippery by-roads, dark and deep, They often climb, and often creep. Desire, the swifter of the two, Along the plain like lightning flew: Till, entering on a broad highway, Where power and titles scatter'd lay, He strove to pick up all he found, And by excursions lost his ground: No sooner got, than with disdain He threw them on the ground again; And hasted forward to pursue Fresh objects fairer to his view;
In hope to spring some nobler game;
But all he took was just the same:
Too scornful now to stop his pace,
He spurn'd them in his rival's face.
Possession kept the beaten road,
And gather'd all his brother strow'd;
But overcharg'd, and out of wind,
Though strong in limbs, he lagg'd behind.
Desire had now the goal in sight:
It was a tower of monstrous height;
Where on the summit Fortune stands,
A crown and sceptre in her hands;
Beneath a chasm as deep as Hell,
Where many a bold adventurer fell.
Desire in rapture gaz'd a while,
And saw the treacherous goddess smile;
But, as he climb'd to grasp the crown,
She knock'd him with the sceptre down!
He tumbled in the gulf profound;
There doom'd to whirl an endless round.
Possession's load was grown so great,
He sunk beneath the cumbrous weight:
And, as he now expiring lay,
Flocks every ominous bird of prey;
The raven, vulture, owl, and kite,
At once upon his carcase light,
And strip his hide, and pick his bones,
Regardless of his dying groans.
YE wise, instruct me to endure
An evil, which admits no cure;
Or, how this evil can be borne,
Which breeds at once both hate and scorn.
Bare innocence is no support,
When you are try'd in Scandal's court.
Stand high in honour, wealth, or wit;
All others, who inferior sit,
Conceive themselves in conscience bound
To join, and drag you to the ground.
Your altitude offends the eyes
Of those who want the
The world, a willing stander by,
Inclines to aid a specious lie:
Alas! they would not do you wrong;
But all appearances are strong!
Yet whence proceeds this weight we lay
On what detracting people say?
For let mankind discharge their tongues
In venom, till they burst their lungs,
Their utmost malice cannot make
Your head, or tooth, or finger ake;
Nor spoil your shape, distort your face,
Or put one feature out of place;
Nor will you find your fortune sink
By what they speak or what they think;
Nor can ten hundred thousand lies
Make you less virtuous, learn'd, or wise.
The most effectual way to baulk
Their malice, is-to let them talk.
THE FURNITURE OF A WOMAN'S MIND.
A SET of phrases learn'd by rote;
A passion for a scarlet coat;
When at a play to laugh, or cry,
Yet cannot tell the reason why;
Never to hold her tongue a minute,
While all she prates has nothing in it;
Whole hours can with a coxcomb sit,
And take his nonsense all for wit;
Her learning mounts to read a song,
But half the words pronouncing wrong;
Has every repartee in store
She spoke ten thousand times before;
Can ready compliments supply
On all occasions, cut and dry;
Such hatred to a parson's gown,
The sight will put her in a swoon;
For conversation well endued,
She calls it witty to be rude;
And, placing raillery in railing,
Will tell aloud your greatest failing;
Nor make a scruple to expose
Your bandy leg, or crooked nose;
Can at her morning tea run o'er
The scandal of the day before;
Improving hourly in her skill,
To cheat and wrangle at quadrille.
In choosing lace, a critic nice,
Knows to a groat the lowest price;
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