ATLAS; OR, THE MINISTER OF STATE.

TO THE LORD TREASURER OXFORD.

ATLAS, we read in ancient song,
Was so exceeding tall and strong,
He bore the skies upon his back,
Just as the pedlar does his pack:
But, as a pedlar overpress'd,
Unloads upon a stall to rest,
Or, when he can no longer stand,
Desires a friend to lend a hand;
So Atlas, lest the ponderous spheres
Should sink, and fall about his ears,
Got Hercules to hear the pile,
That he might sit and rest a while.

1710.

Yet Hercules was not so strong,
Nor could have borne it half so long.
Great statesmen are in this condition;
And Atlas is a politician,

A premier minister of state;

Alcides one of second rate,

Suppose then Atlas ne'er so wise;
Yet, when the weight of kingdoms lies
Too long upon his single shoulders,
Sink down he must, or find upholders.

A TOWN ECLOGUE. 1710.

(FIRST PRINTED IN THE TATTLER.)

Scene, the Royal Exchange.

CORYDON.

NOW the keen rigour of the winter's o'er,
No hail descends, and frosts can pinch no more,
While other girls confess the genial spring,
And laugh aloud, or amorous ditties sing,
Secure from cold their lovely necks display,
And throw each useless chafing-dish away;
Why sits my Phillis discontented here,
Nor feels the turn of the revolving year?
Why on that brow dwell sorrow and dismay,

Where Loves were wont to sport, and Smiles to play?
PHILLIS. Ah, Corydon! survey the 'Change around;
Through all the 'Change no wretch like me is found.
Alas! the day, when I, poor heedless maid,

Was to your rooms in Lincoln's Inn betray'd;
Then how you swore, how many vows you made!
Ye listening Zephyrs, that o'erheard his love,
Waft the soft accents to the gods above.
Alas! the day; for (O, eternal shame!)
I sold you handkerchiefs, and lost my fame.
COR. When I forget the favour you bestow'd,
Red herrings shall be spawn'd in Tyburn Road;
Fleet street transform'd become a flowery green,
And mass be sung where operas are seen.
The wealthy cit, and the St. James's beau,
Shall change their quarters, and their joys forego;
Stock jobbing, this, to Jonathan's shall come,
At the Groom Porter's, that, play off his plum.

PHIL. But what to me does all that love avail,
If, while I doze at home o'er porter's ale,

Each night with wine and wenches you regale;
My livelong hours in anxious cares are past,
And raging hunger lays my beauty waste.
On templars spruce in vain I glances throw,
And with shrill voice invite them as they go.
Expos'd in vain my glossy ribands shine,
And unregarded wave upon the twine.

The week flies round; and when my profit's known,
I hardly clear enough to change a crown.

COR. Hard fate of virtue, thus to be distress'd,
Thou fairest of thy trade, and far the best!
As fruitmen's stalls the summer-market grace,
And ruddy peaches them; as first in place
Plumcake is seen o'er smaller pastry ware,
And ice on that; so Phillis does appear
In playhouse and in park, above the rest
Of belle mechanic, elegantly drest.

PHIL. And yet Crepundia, that conceited fair,
Amid her toys, affects a saucy air,

And views me hourly with a scornful eye.

COR. She might as well with bright Cleora vie,

PHIL. With this large petticoat I strive in vain
To hide my folly past, and coming pain;
'Tis now no secret; she, and fifty more,
Observe the symptoms I had once before:
A second babe at Wapping must be plac'd,
When I scarce bear the charges of the last.

COR. What I could raise I sent; a pound of plums,

Five shillings, and a coral for his gums;

To-morrow I intend him something more.

PHIL. I sent a frock and pair of shoes before.

COR. However, you shall home with me to night, Forget your cares, and revel in delight.

I have in store a pint or two of wine,

Some cracknels, and the remnant of a chine.
And now on either side, and all around,
The weighty shopboards fall, and bars resound;
Each ready seamstress slips her pattins on,
And ties her hood, preparing to be gone,

L. B. W. H. J. S. S. T.

EPITAPH,

INSCRIBED ON A MARBLE TABLET, IN BERKELEY CHURCH, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.

H. S. E.

CAROLUS Comes de BERKELEY, Vicecomes DURSLEY, Baro BERKELEY, de Berkeley Cast., MOWBRAY, SEGRAVE, Et BRUCE, è nobilissimo Ordine Balnei Eques, Vir ad genus quod spectat et proavos usquequaque nobilis, Et longo si quis alius procerum stemmate editus; Muniis etiam tam illustri stirpi dignis insignitus. Siquidem a GULIELMO II° ad ordines fœderati Belgii Ablegatus et Plenipotentiarus Extraordinartus Rebus, non Britanniæ tantùm, sed totius fere Europæ (Tunc temporis præsertim arduis) per annos V. incubuit, Quam felici diligentiâ, fide quam intemeratâ, Ex illo discas, Lector, quod, superstite patre, In magnatum ordinem adscisci meruerit. Fuit à sanctioribus consiliis et Regi GULIEL. et ANNE Reginæ, E proregibus Hiberniæ secundus,

Comitatum civitatumque Glocest. et Brist, Dominus Locumtenens,
Surriæ et Glocest. Custos Rot., Urbis Glocest. magnus
Senescallus, Arcis sancti de Briavell Castellanus,
Guardianus Forestæ de Dean.

Denique ad Turcarum primum, deinde ad Roman. Imperatorem.
Cum Legatus Extraordinarius designatus esset,
Quo minus has etiam ornaret provincias
Obstitit adversa corporis valetudo.

Sed restat adhuc, præ quo sordescunt cætera,
Honos verus, stabilis, et vel morti cedere nescius,
Quòd veritatem evangelicam seriò amplexus;

Erga Deum pius, erga pauperes munificus,
Adversùs omnes æquus et benevolus,
In Christo jam placidè obdormit
Cum eodem olim regnaturus unà
Natus VIII April. MDCXLIX. denatus
XXIV Septem. MDCCX. ætat. suæ LXII.

LINES WRITTEN EXTEMPORE ON MR. HARLEY'S BEING STABBED, AND ADDRESSED TO HIS PHYSICIAN. 1710-11.

ON Britain Europe's safety lies;

Britain is left if Harley dies:

Harley depends upon your skill:

Think what you save, or what you kill.*

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.

BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF

A FAMOUS ORATOR AGAINST PEACE. 1711.

AN Orator dismal of Nottinghamshire,

Who has forty years let out his conscience to hire,

"I told lord treasurer of four lines I writ extempore, with my pencil, on a bit of paper in his house, while he lay wounded. Some of the servants, I suppose, made waste paper of them; and he never heard of them." Journal to Stella, Feb. 19, 1711-12.

+"Lord Nottingham, a famous tory and speechmaker, is gone over to the whig side. They toast him daily, and lord Wharton says 'It is Dismal (so they call him from his looks) will save England at last. Lord treasurer was hinting as if he wished a ballad was made on him, and I will get up one against to-morrow." Journal to Stella, Dec. 5, 1711.-"I was this morning making the ballad, two degrees above Grub-street. Then dined with our society. The printer came be fore we parted, and brought the ballad, which made them laugh very heartily a dozen times." Ibid, Dec. 6. N..