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Roast beef, thongh old, proclaims him stout, What schemes of politics, or laws,
In Gallic lands the patriot draws !
Than all the tomes of Haines's band ? Be every birth-day more a winner,
“ Or shoots he folly as it fics?
“ Or catches manners as they rise ?” 4 Digest his thirty-thousandth dinner ; Walk to his grave without reproach,
Or, urg'd by unquench'd native heat,
Does St. John Greenwich sports repeat ?
Where (emulous of Chartres' fame)
To you (th' all-envy'd gift of Heaven)
A form complete in every part,
And, to enjoy that gift, the art.
? What couill a tender mother's care
Wish better to her favourite heir,
Than wit, and fame, and lucky hours,
A stock of health, and golden showers,
And graceful Muency of speech,
Precepts before unknown to teach?
& Amidst thy various chbs of fear,
And gleaming hope, anıl black despair ;
Yet let thy friend this truth impart;
A truth I tell with bleeding heart, Lest flocks should be wise as their guide,
(In justice for your labours past) 'Twas a woman at first,
· That every day shall be your last; (ludeed she was curst)
That every hour you life renew
Is to your injur'd country due.
In spite of fears, of mercy spite,
My genius still must rail, and write,
Haste to thy Twickenham's safe retreat,
And mingle with the grumbling great:
There, half devour'd by spleen, you'll find
The rhyming bubbler of mankind;
There (objects of our inutual bate)
We'll ridicule both church and state,
But if the first Eve
EPIGRAM ON MRS. TOFTS.
A HANDSOME WOMAN WITH A FINE VOICE, BUT VERY "Shall he found out for you,
coveTOUS AND PROUD. 10 Who tasting, have robb’d the whole tree?
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song,
along; THE FOURTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, BOOK OF HORACE'S EPISTLES
That the beasts must have starv'd, and the poes
have died. A MODERN IMITATION, SAY!, St. John, who alone peruse
4 The lines here quoted occur in the Essay on With candid eye, the mimic Muse,
Man. * This panegyric on lady Mary Wortley Monta- 5 An tacitam silvas inter reptare salubres? gue might have been suppressed by Mr. Pope, on
Di tibi formam account of her having satirized him in her verses to
Di tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi. the Imitator of Horace; which abuse he returned
? Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno, in the first Satire of the second book of Horace.
Quam sapere, et fari posset quæ sentiat, et cui From furious Sappho, scarce a milder fate, Gratia, fama, valetudo contingat abunde, P-d by her love, or libel'd by her hate. S.
-- non deficiente crumena? ? This satire on Lord Bolingbroke, and the praise 8 Inter spem, curamque, timores inter et iras, bestowed on him in a letter to Mr. Richardson, 9 Omnem crede diem tibi diluxisse supremum. where Mr. Pope says,
Me pinguem, et nitidum bene curata cute vises, The sons shall blush their fathers were his focs; Cum ridere voles Epicuri de grege porcum. being so contradictory, probably occasioned the 10 This epigram, first printed anonymously in former to be suppressed. S.
Steele's Collection, and copied in the Miscellanies Ad ALBIUM TIBULLUM.
of Swift and Pope, is ascribed to Pope by sir John Albi, nostrorum sermonum candide judex, Hawkins, in his History of Music. --Mrs. Tofts, Quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedana? who was the daughter of a person in the family of Seribere, quod Cassi Parmensis opuscula vincat?' bishop Burnet, is celebrated as a singer little in
ON ONE WHO MADE LONG EPITAPHS.
Why make I friendships with the great,
When I no favour seek?
I need but once a week.
Still idle, with a busy air, Where still so much is said,
Deep whimsies to contrive; One half will never be believ'd,
The gayest valetudinaire,
Most thinking rake alive.
'Though fond of dear repose ;
Careless or drowsy with my friends,
And frolic with my foes.
For sober, studious days !
For sallads, tarts, and pease!
Whose soul sincere and free,
And so may starve with me.
Pope. Since my old friend is grown so great, This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,
As to be minister of state, Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
I'm told (but 'tis not true I hope) Soft Band rough C, adieu !
That Craggs will be asham'd of Pope. Earl Warwick make your moan,
Cracos. Alas! if I am such a creature, The lively H-k and you
To grow the worse for growing greater : May knock up whores alone.
Why faith, in spite of all my brags, To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
'Tis Pope must be asham'd of Cragge Till the third watchman toll; Let Jervis gratis paint, and Frowde
Save three-pence and his soul.
ENGRATED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG, WHICH I GAV Although he knows it not.
TO RIS ROYAL RIGHNESS. Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go ;
Am his Highness' dog at Kew; Farewell, unhappy Tonson !
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
Lean Philips, and fat Johnson.
OCCASIONED BY AN INVITATION TO COURT. And Homer (damn him!) calls. The love of arts lies cold and dead
In the lines that you sent are the Muses and In Halifax's urn;
Graces; And not one Muse of all he fed,
You ’ve the Nine in your wit, and the Three in Has yet the grace to mourn. My friends, by turns, my friends confound,
Betray, and are betray'd : Poor Yr's sold for tifty pound, And B- -11 is a jade.
ON AN OLD GATE ferior, either for her voice or manner, to the best
ERECTED IN CHISWICK GARDENS. Italian women. She lived at the introduction of O GATE, how cam’st thou here? the opera into this kingdom, and sung company with Nicolini ; but, being ignorant of gate. I was brought from Chelsea last year, Italian, chanted her recitative in English, in an
Batter'd with wind and weather. swer to bis Italian ; yet the charms of their voices
Inigo Jones put me together.
Sir Hans Sloane overcame the absurdity.
Let me alone : " It is not generally known that the person here
Burlington brought me hither, meant was Dr. Robert Preind, head master of
Blest courtier! who could king and country please
Yet sacred keep his friendships, and his ease. What are the falling tills, the pendant shades,
Blest peer! his great forefathers' every grace The morning bowers, the evening colonades,
Reflecting, and reflected in his race; But soft recesses for th' uneasy mind
Where other Buckbursts, other Dorsets shine, To sigh unheard in, to the passing wind !
And patrons still, or pocts, deck the line.
ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBAL,
ONE OF THE PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF STATE TO
WILLIAM 111. WHO, HAVING RESIGNED HIS
IN BERKSHIRE, 1716.
PLEASING form; a firm, yet cautious mind; ON HIS LYING IN THE SAME BED WHICH WILMOT THE Sincere, though prudent ; constant, yet resign'd;
EARL OF ROCHESTER SLEPT IN, Honour unchang'd, a principle profest, ADDERBURY, THEN BELONGING TO THE DUKE OP Fix'd to one side, but moderate to the rest : ARGYLE, JULY 9th, 1739.
An honest courtier, yet a patriot too : W11
Just to his prince, and to his country true : ITH QO poetic ardour fir'd
Fill’d with the sense of age, the fire of youth, I press'd the bed where Wilmot lay;
A scorn of wrangling, yet a zeal for truth; That here he lov'd, or here expir’d,
A generous faith, from superstition free: Begets no numbers grave, or gay.
A love to peace, and hate of tyranny ; But in thy roof, Argyle, are bred
Such this man was: who now from Earth removido Such thoughts as proinpt the brave to lie At length enjoys that liberty he lov'd. Stretch'd out in Honour's nobler bed, Beneath a nobler roofthe sky.
ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT, Such flames as high in patriots burn, Yet stoop to bless a child or wife;
ONLY SON OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR HARCOURT, AT And such as wicked kings may mourn,
THE CHURCH OF STANTON-HARCOURT IN OXFORDWhen freedom is more dear than life.
To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art! draw near,
Who ne'er knew joy, but friendship might divide,
Or gave his father grief but when he dy'd.
How vain is reason, eloquence how weak !
If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot speak. LONDON, OCTOBER 22.
Oh let thy once-lov'd friend inscribe thy stone, Few words are best; I wish you well ;
And with a father's sorrow's mix his own.
ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ.
REGI MAGNE BRITANNIÆ A SECRETIO Your friend, your poet, and your host;
ET CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS, For three whole days you here may rest,
PRINCIPIS PARITER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICIT From office, business, news, and strife;
VIXIT TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR And (what most folks would think a jest)
ANXOS, HEU PAUCOS, XXXV.
Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,
Who broke no promise, serv'd no private end,
Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend.
Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd,
Prais'd, wept, and honour'd, by the Muse he lord
OB. PBB. XVI. MDCCXX.
Beneath a rude and pameless stone he lies, Lies crown'd with princes' bonours, poets' lays, To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring cyes.
Due to his merit, and brate thirst of praise. Peace to thy gentle sbade, and endless rest!
Living, great Nature fear'd he might outsie Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest! Her works; and, dying, fears herself may die. One grateful woman to thy fame supplies What a whole thankless land to his denies.
ON GENERAL HENRY WITHERS,
IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1729.
Here, Withers, rest! thou bravest, gentlest mind,
Thy country's friend, but more of human kind. Here rests a woman, good without pretence,
Oh born to arms! O worth in youth approv'd! Blost with plain reason, and with sober sense :
O soft humanity, in age belov'd! No conquests she, but o'er herself, desir'd,
For thee the hardy veteran drops a tear, No arts essay'd, but not to be admir'd.
And the gay courtier feels the sigh sincere. Passion and pride were to her soul unknown,
Withers, adieu! yet not with thee remove Convinc'd that virtue only is our own.
Thy martial spirit, or thy social love!
Amidst corruption, luxury, and rage,
Nor let us say (those English glories gone)
The last true Briton lies beneath this stone.
WHO DIED OF A CANCER IN HER BREAST.
ON THE MONUMENT OF THE HONOURABLE
ERECTED BY THEIR FATHER THE LORD DIGBY,
And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom,
Yet take these tears, mortality's relief,
ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON,
IN BERKS, 1730.
ON MR. GAY,
IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1732.
So there's an end of honest Jack:
Tis ten to one he 'll ne'er come back.
ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER,
IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1723.
To these so mourn'd in death, so lov'd in life;
ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY,
ON BUTLER'S MONUMENT.
PERHAPS BY MR. POPE'.
Respect to Dryden, Shiffield justly paid, (His only daughter baving expired in his arms,
And noble Villers honour'd Cowley's shade: immediately after she arrived in France to see
But whence this Barber?--that a name so mean him.)
Should, join'd with Butler's, on a tomb be scen:
This pyramid would better far proclain,
Poet and patron then bad been well pair'd,
WITH THE PROLEGOMENA OP SCRIBLERUS, TR. Yes“ Sare my country, Heaven,"
UYPERCRITICS OF ARISTARCHUS,
AND NOTES VARIORUM.
IN FOUR BOOKS.
ON EDMOND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, A LETTER TO THE PUBLISHER,
OCCASIONED BY THE FIRST CORRECT EDITION OF THE 1735.
DUNCIAD. If modest youth, with cool reflection crown'd,
It is with pleasure I hear, that you have procured And every opening rirtue blooming round, a correct copy of the Dimeiad, which the many Could save a parent's justest pride from fate, surreptitious ones have rendered so necessary; Os add one patriot to a sinking state;
and it is yet with more, that I am informed it will This weeping marble had not ask'd thy tear,
be attended with a commentary: a work so reOr sadly told how many lopes lie here!
quisite, that I cannot think the author himself The living virtue now had shone approv'd,
would have omitted it, had he approved of the first The senate beard him, and his country lor'd. appearance of this poem. Yet softer honours, anil less noisy fame
Such notes as have occurred to me I herewith Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham:
send you : you will oblige me by inserting them In whom a race, for courage fam'd and art, amongst those which are, or will be, transmitted Ends in the milder merit of the heart;
to you by others; since not only the author's And, chiefs or sages long to Britain given,
friends, biit even strangers, appear engaged by Pays the last tribute of a saint to Heaven. humanity, to iake some care of an orphan of so
much genius and spirit, which its parent seems
to have abandoned from the very beginning, and FOR ONE
suffered to step into the world naked, unguarded, WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. and unattended. Heroes and kings! your distance kecp,
It was upon realling some of the abusive papers
lately published, that' my great regard to a person, In peace Ict one poor poet sleep, Who never fatter'd folks like you :
whose friendship I esteem as one of the chief hoLet Horace blush, and Virgil too.
nours of my life, and a much greater respect to truth, than to him or any man living, engaged
me in inquiries, of which the inclosed notes are "ANOTHER, ON THE SAME
the fruit. UNDER this marble, or under this sill, Or under this turf, or e'en what they will;
" Mr. Pope, in one of the prints from ScheeWhatever an heir, or a friend in his stead,
maker's monument of Shakspeare in Westminster Or any good creature shall lay o'er my head, Lics one who ne'er car'd, and still cares not a pin, alderman Barber, by the following couplet, which
Abbey, has sufficiently shown his contempt of What they said, or may say, of the mortal within : is substituted in the place of “ The cloud-capp'd But who, living and dying, serene still and free,
towers, &c.” Trusts in God, that as well as he was, he shall be.
Thus Britain lov'd me; and preserv'd my fame,
Clear from a Barber's or a Benson's name.
Pope might probably have suppressed his satire The rest God knows--so does the Devil.
on the alderman, because he was one of Swift's ac
quaintances and correspondents; though in the 1 Ti.is epitaph, originally written on Picus Mi- fourth book of the Dunciad he has an anonymous randula, is applied to F. Chartres, and printed stroke at him : among the works of Swift. See Hawkesworth's So by each bard an alderman shall sit, edition, vol. vi. S.
A heavy lord shall hang at every witor: S.