To the Damfel whofe Language as coarfe as her Skiný 114
And who fain wou'd be dabbling, but starts at the Sin,ol
As the flares at and covets the Thing call'd a Many A
And the thinks the cou'd do what her Ladyfhip can:
From the Prodigal Cit, who's a fettling the Nation,
To the poor Country Thresher,who's as great in his Station.
From their 'Squireships and Knighthoods, and Lordships
:-(and Graces,

1

To the Man of no Title, who makes 'em wry Faces,
All alike fhall be purg'd by your laxative Verses,
Which fhall loofen their Tongues inftead of their Arfes,
As they join in the Praifes of what I commend,
And acknowledge you theirs, as I own you my Friend."

To

00 long, by flowing Luxury betray'd,
Our British Ifle was in loofe Slumbers laid
Too long we felt the Ills of fatal Peace,
And idly languifh'd in inglorious Eafe;
No manly Bufinefs did our Thoughts engage,
To purchafe Fame on Europe's wond'ring Stage
But grown unmindful of our former Name,
We all our Fathers Triumphs did disclaim,

While even France itself, with Scorn, beheld our Shame,
The idle Spear hung up, the polish'd Shield
Forgot the great Atchievements of the Fields
The gen❜rous Sword contracted filthy Ruft,
And active Pikes lay moul'dring in the Duft.
Shrill Trumpets fpake not to the armed Throng,

Our Inftruments unlearn'd each martial Song,T
While Guns and Bombs as ufeful did appear,
As Laws and Learning in the Times of War:
Mean-while our Neighbours ftrove to break the Chain,
And fought the Empire of fair Albion's Main,

DS

Bold

t

Bold num'rous Suitors brifkly did prepare,

To court the Nymph with all the Pomp of War.
Nay, more, the Eastern World our Shame must know,
And rifled Bantam English Conduct show,

While the proud Dutch, by potent Nants infpir'd,
Invade our Coafts, and on the Castles fir'd:
Spain, that was much amaz'd at fuch a Sight,
Sufpected now the Truth of Eighty Eight.
And fcarcely thought our Fathers could obtain,
Such great and glorious Triumphs over Spain.

Thus were we fcorn'd, and thus contemn'd Abroad,
While Seeds of civil Feuds at Home were fow'd;
Prompted by each bold Inftrument of Hell,
Dull Fools, we did for Confcience Sake rebel;
Then fenfelefs Clamours all our Thoughts employ'd,
And Whig and Tory did the Land divide.

But now triumphant James the Scepter fways,
Th' adoring World our Rifing Sun furveys:
He to our Minds new Vigour does infufe,
And furnish ample Matter for the Muse;
He to it felf our Ifland does reftore,

Extends its Limits, and confirms its Pow❜r,
While the Great Edward's mighty Ghoft is pleas'd
To fee his ancient Kingdom's Honours rais❜d.
Behold how fhining in your martial Pride
Our Troops at Hounflow do your Courfers guide;
See how the well-form'd Phalanx does advance,
Taught by Experience, not infpir'd by Chance ;
See how the Colours wanton in the Air,
And Helmets gliften formidably Fair;

How Groves of pointed Spears do move along,
As Trees commanded by the Thracian Song,

While Drums and Trumpets rend the lift'ning Skies,
And ev'ry Heart keeps Meafure with the Noife.
Surely, if Poets Prophecies are true,

Thefe Heroes must unheard of Wonders do;
Either proud France muft now fresh Vengeance feel,
And once more groan beneath the English Steel;
Or perjur'd Holland, fome revolving Day,
For fam'd Amboyna's fatal Slaughters pay;

Or

Or the large Kingdoms of the pow'rful Weft,
Too much by Spanish Cruelties oppreft,

With English Arts at laft, and English Laws be bleft.

}

Upon the Setting up of the Statue of Queen Elizabeth, of ever bleffed Memory, in the Royal Exchange, London.

L

ET Memmon's Statue be no more admir'd,

That utter'd Sounds, by the Sun-beams infpir'd;
My Mufe a greater Wonder does rehearse,
For Stones have here infus'd the lofty Verfe.
Oh! London, the juft Pride of Albion's Ifle,
That do'ft with Eafe and flowing Plenty fmile,
Whofe pow'rful Ships the Ocean do furvey,
And make both Indies to thee Tribute pay,
Oh! give fresh Honours to Eliza's Name,
And view the lasting Trophies of her Fame :
She rais'd thy Head, and all thy Wealth fecur'd,
Which elfe proud Spaniards Rapine had devour'd:
She chac'd thy Night of Ignorance away,
And foon restor'd Truth's incorrupted Ray.

Nor were her Bleflings to this Realm confin'd;
Strangers enjoy'd the Virtues of her Mind:
Holland, half ruin'd by the Pride of Spain,
By her kind Influence rais'd it felf again;
She freed 'em from the Tyranny of Rome,
And ftopt the Tide of Heav'n's impending Doom.
E'en France it felf, with civil Tumults ftain'd,
Invok'd her Help, and Help was ftreight obtain❜d,
Elfe the curft League had clipt the Royal Crown,
And from his Greatnefs thrown the Monarch down.
Who without Joy and Wonder can furvey
The glorious Triumphs of that happy Day,
When mighty Drake oppos'd the Pow'r of Spain,
And fought their Navy in the British Main:
Long had proud Philip England's Fate confpir'd,
Urg'd by Revenge, and with Ambition fir'd;

Long

Long had he trove by all the Arts of Pow'r;
Old Rome's exploded Errors to restore

Then rev'rend Shrines were of their Reliques stript,
And confecrated Guns and Daggers fhipt;
Each Banner was baptiz'd in Holy Oil,
And Vows were made to recommend the Toil;
The miter'd Prelate of St. Peter's Chair

Club'd towards the Work, and bleft it with a Pray'r.
Nay, griping Priests that never gave before,
Now plunder'd Altars to increase the Store.

Thus fetting forth from Lisbon's fatal Bay,
Thro' wond'ring Waves the Navy cut its Way ;
The World, amaz’d, lookt on the curst, Intent,
And Fate now almoft doubted the Event.
But Britain's Genius, no: furpriz'd with Fear,
Towards the great Fleet its nimble Courfe did fteer.
The roaring Guns first Complements did make,
At which the frighten'd Gallies 'gan to quake;
Soldiers, like Mag-pies, flutter'd in the Air,
And ev'ry Ship did in the Damage fhare :
Till, half confum'd with Streams of glowing Fire,
The Gen'ral thought it Prudence to retire.

Thefe Triumphs we to Great Eliza owe,
Such Bleflings her foft Influence did beflow;
Sh' enrich'd our Ifland with the Indian Mine,
And first reduc'd Religion, and our Coin:
O may fhe live exalted in her Fame,
Enjoying all the Glories of her Name;
While British Fleets the Ocean fhall command,
And Peace and Plenty crown our happy Land,
While true Religion does her Sway maintain
Against the Arts of Fraud, and Cruelties of Spain,

WH

In Praife of the Bottle. A Song.

I.

Hat a Pox d'ye tell me of the Papifts Defign?
Would to God you'd leave talking, and drink off

(your Wine.

Away

A

Away with your Glafs, Sir, and drown all Debate ;
Let's be loyally merry; ne'er think of the State.
The King (Heav'ns blefs him) knows beft how to rule
And who troubles his Head I think is but a Fool.

II.

Come, Sir, here's his Health; your Brimmer advance, We'll ingrofs all the Claret, and leave none for France. 'Tis by this we declare our Loyal Intent,

And by our Caroufing the Cuftoms augment.

Would all mind their Drinking, and proper Vocation, We should ha'none of this Buftle and Stir in the Nation. III.

Let the Hero of Poland, and Monarch of France,

Strive, by Methods of Fighting, their Crowns to advance.
Let Chapels, in Lime Street, be built, or deftroy'd,
And the Teft, and the Oath of Supremacy, void;
It shall ne'er trouble me; I'm none of thole Maggots,
That have whimfical Fancies of Smithfield and Faggots,
IV.

Then banish all groundless Sufpicions away;

The King knows to govern, let us learn to obey.
Let ev'ry Man mind his Bufinefs and Drinking;
When the Head's full of Wine, there's no Room left for
[Thinking.

'Tis nought but an empty and whimfical Pare,
That makes Fools run giddy with Notions of State.

essensiseseberesetesesedese36393 The ROVER. A Song.

I

I.

Hate the Dotard, that reftrains
Himfelf to one. Give me the Spark,
That ev'ry fingle Doe difdains,

But bravely chaces all the Park.

What Charms can one pretend? She's fair,
Well fhap'd, perhaps, plays well, or fings.
All's true; but were the yet more rare,
The God of Love, you know, has Wings.

Beauty's