The time pass'd on; and Music came,
Her kennel once again to claim;
But Bawty, lost to shame and honour,
Set all her cubs at once upon her ;
Made her retire, and quit her right,
And loudly cry'd-" A bite! bite!"

THE MORAL.

Thus did the Grecian wooden horse
Conceal a fatal armed force:
No sooner brought within the walls,
But Ilium's lost and Priam falls.

HORACE, BOOK III. ODE II.

TO THE EARL OF OXFORD, LATE LORD TREasurer.

SENT TO HIM WHEN IN THE TOWER, 1716.

How blest is he, who for his country dies,
Since death pursues the coward as he flies?
The youth in vain would fly from Fate's attack,
With trembling knees and Terror at his back;
Though Fear should lend him pinions like the wind,
Yet swifter Fate will seize him from behind.

Virtue repuls'd, yet knows not to repine;
But shall with unattainted honour shine;
Nor stoops to take the staff,* nor lays it down,
Just as the rabble please to smile or frown.
Virtue, to crown her favourites, loves to try
Some new unbeaten passage so the sky;

* The ensign of the lord treasurer's office. H.

Where

Where Jove a seat among the gods will give
To those who die, for meriting to live.

Next faithful Silence hath a sure reward; Within our breast be every secret barr'd! He, who betrays his friend, shall never be Under one roof, or in one ship with me. For who with traitors would his safety trust, Lest with the wicked, Heaven involve the just? And, though the villian 'scape a while, he feels Slow Vengeance, like a bloodhound at his heels.

PHYLLIS;

OR, THE PROGRESS OF LOVE, 1716.

DESPONDING Phyllis was endued
With every talent of a prude:

She trembled when a man drew near;
Salute her, and she turn'd her ear:
If o'er against her you were plac'd,
She durst not look above your waist:
She'd rather take you to her bed,
Than let you see her dress her head;

In church you hear her, through the crowd,
Repeat the absolution loud :

In church, secure behind her fan,
She durst behold that monster man:
There practis'd how to place her head,
And bite her lips to make them red;
Or, on the mat devoutly kneeling,
Would lift her eyes up to the ceiling,

And

And heave her bosom unaware,
For neighbouring beaux to see it bare.
At length a lucky lover came,
And found admittance to the dame.
Suppose all parties now agreed,
The writings drawn, the lawyer fee'd,
The vicar and the ring bespoke:

Guess, how could such a match be broke?
See then what mortals place their bliss in!
Next morn by times the bride was missing:
The mother scream'd, the father chid;
Where can this idle wench be hid?
No news of Phyl! the bridegroom came,
And thought his bride had skulk'd for shame;
Because her father us'd to say,
The girl had such a bashful way!
Now John the butler must be sent
To learn the road that Phyllis went:
The groom was wish'd to saddle crop ;
For John must neither light nor stop,
But find her, wheresoe'er she fled,
And bring her back alive or dead.

See here again the devil to do!

For truly John was missing too :
The horse and pillion both were gone !
Phyllis it seems, was fled with John.

Old Madam, who went up to find
What papers Phyl had left behind,
A letter on the toilet sees,

To my much honour'd father-these-
('Tis always done, romances tell us,
When daughters run away with fellows)
Fill'd with the choicest commonplaces,
By other's us'd in the like cases.

"That

"That long ago a fortuneteller
Exactly said what now befel her;
And in a glass had made her see
A serving-man of low degree.
It was her fate, must be forgiven;
For marriages were made in Heaven:
His pardon begg'd: but, to be plain,
She'd do't if 'twere to do again :
Thank'd God, 'twas neither shame nor sin;
For John was come of honest kin.
Love never thinks of rich and poor :
She'd beg with John from door to door.
Forgive her, if it be a crime;

She'll never do't another time.
She ne'er before in all her life

Once disobey'd him, maid nor wife.
One argument she summ'd up all in,
The thing was done, and past recalling;
And therefore hop'd she should recover
His favour, when his passion's over.
She valued not what others thought her,
And was his most obedient daughter."
Fair maidens all attend the Muse,
Who now the wandering pair pursues:
Away they rode in homely sort,
Their journey long, their money short;
The loving couple well bemir'd;
The horse and both the riders tir'd:
Their victuals bad, their lodging worse;
Phyl cry'd and John began to curse:
Phyl wish'd that she had strain'd a limb,
When first she ventur'd out with him;
John wish'd, that he had broke a leg,
When first for her he quitted Peg.

But what adventures more befel them,
The Muse has now no time to tell them;
How Johnny wheedled, threaten'd, fawn'd,
Till Phyllis all her trinkets pawn'd:
How oft she broke her marriage vows
In kindness to maintain her spouse,
Till swains unwholesome spoil'd the trade;
For now the Surgeons must be paid,
To whom those perquisites are gone,
In Christian justice due to John.

When food and raiment now grew scarce,
Fate put a period to the farce,
And with exact poetic justice;

For John was landlord, Phyllis hostess;
They keep, at Staines, the Old Blue Boar,
Are cat and dog, and rogue and whore.

AD AMICUM

ERUDITUM

THOMAM SHERIDAN. 1717.

DELICIA Sheridan Musarum, dulcis amice,
Sic tibi propitius Permessi ad flumen Apollo
Occurrat, seu te mimum convivia rident,
Equivocosque sales spargis, seu ludere versu
Malles; dic, Sheridan, quisnam fuit ille deorum,
Quæ melior natura orto tibi tradidit artem
Rimandi genium puerorum, atque ima cerebri
Scrutandi? Tibi nascenti ad cunabula Pallas
Astitit; & dixit, mentis præsaga futuræ,
Heu, puer infelix! nostro sub sidere natus;
Nam tu pectus eris sine corpore, corporis umbra ;

Sed