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A bishop by his neighbours hated
EPIGRAM ON THE FEUDS ABOUT HANDEL
STRANGE! all this difference should be
ON MRS. TOFTS, A CELEBRATED OPERA
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, As had drawn both the beasts and their Orpheus
along: But such is thy avarice, and such is thy pride, That the beasts must have starv'd, and the poet
THE BALANCE OF EUROPE.
Now, Europe balanc'd, neither side prevails ; For nothing's left in either of the scales.
EPITAPH ON LORD CONINGSBY. *
HERE lies Lord Coningsby—be civil!
You beat your pate, and fancy wit will come: Knock as you please, there's nobody at home.
EPIGRAM FROM THE FRENCH.
Sir, I admit your general rule,
fool is not a poet.
WELL then, poor G-lies under ground !
So there's an end of honest Jack: So little justice here he found,
'Tis ten to one he'll ne'er come back.
EPIGRAM ON THE TOASTS OF THE KIT-CAT
CLUB, ANNO 1716.
WHENCE deathless Kit-cat' took its name,
Few critics can unriddle:
And some, from cat' and «fiddle.'
From no trim beaux its name it boasts,
Gray statesmen, or green wits ; But from this pellmell pack of toasts
Of old cats' and young kits.'
TO A LADY, WITH THE TEMPLE OF FAME.
WHAT's fame with men, by custom of the nation,
ON THE COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON
Pallas grew vapourish once and odd ;
She would not do the least right thing, Either for goddess or for god,
Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing.
Jove frown'd, and “Use (he cried) those eyes
So skilful, and those hands so taper; Do something exquisite and wisé—”
She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper.
This vexing him who gave her birth,
Thought by all heaven a burning shame, What does she next, but bids, on earth,
Her Burlington do just the same.
Pallas, you give yourself strange airs ;
But sure you'll find it hard to spoil The sense and taste of one that bears
The name of Saville and of Boyle.
Alas! one bad example shown,
How quickly all the sex pursue ! See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown
Between John Overton and you !
ON DRAWINGS OF THE STATUES OF APOLLO,
VENUS, AND HERCULES,
MADE FOR POPE BY SIR GODFREY KNELLER.
What god, what genius did the pencil move,
When Kneller painted these? 'Twas friendship, warm as Phæbus, kind as Love,
And strong as Hercules.
When wise Ulysses, from his native coast
PRAYER OF BRUTUS.
FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH.
Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase