THOUGH Cato fhines in Virgil's epic fong, Prescribing laws among th' Elysian throng; Though Lucan's verfe, exalted by his name, O'er gods themselves has rais'd the hero's fame; The Roman ftage did ne'er his image fee, Drawn at full length; a task referv'd for thee. By thee we view the finifh'd figure rise, And awful march before our ravifh'd eyes; We hear his voice, afferting virtue's cause; His fate renew'd our deep attention draws, Excites by turns our various hopes and fears, And all the patriot in thy fcene appears. On Tiber's bank thy thought was firft in- 'Twas there, to fome indulgent grove retir'd, TO THE MEMORY OF MILTON. Homer's Defcription of himself, under the Character of Demodochus the Mufician at the Feast of King Alcinous. From the Eighth Book of the Odyfeys. THE mufe with transport lov'd him; yet, to fill TO A LADY, Two fhining maids this happy work displays; In her that animates thefe lines, we view The wonder greater, the defcription true; Each living virtue, every grace combin'd, And Marcia's worth with Lucia's fweetnefs join'd. Had the been born ally'd to Cato's name, Numidia's prince had felt a real Hame; And, pouring his refiftlets troops from far, With bolder deeds had turn'd the doubtful war; ·Cæsar had fled before his conquering arms, And Roman mufes fung her beauty's charms. A FRA G MEN T. PROMISCUOUS crowds to worthlefs riches born, SERENATA FOR TWO VOICES, RIGHT HON, LORD COBHAM TO MRS. ANNE HALSEY. DUETTO. WAKE th' harmonious voice and firing, Love and Hymen's triumph fing. Sounds with fecret charms combining, In melodieus union joining, TRANSLATED. To-MORROW cheats us all. Why doft thou ftay ON A COLLAR PRESENTED FOR HAPPY GILL, 1712. THоU little favourite of the fair! THE CHARACTER OF THE LADY HENRIETTA CAVENDISH HOLLES, 1712-13. SUCH early wifdom, fuch a lovely face, TRUTH, HONOUR, HONESTY: The Motto chosen by the Right Honourable the Lady Henrietta Cavendifb Holles. In thee, bright maid, though all the virtues fhine, Immortal truth in heaven itself difplays Fair honour, next in beauty and in grace, Then Honefty, with native air, fucceeds, Then look, Eliza, happy faint, look down! Say how in thy life's fcanty space, So fhort a fpace, fo wondrous bright, [night, Or wert thou but a traveller below, ? Now, penfive mufe, enlarge thy flight! (By turns the penfive muses love The hilly heights and fhady grove) Behold where, fwelling to the fight, Balls, a fair ftructure, graceful ftands! And from yon verdant rifing brow Sees Hertford's ancient town, and lands Where nature's hand in flow meanders leads The Lee's clear ftream its courfe to flow Through flowery vales, and moiften'd meads, And far around in beauteous profpects fpreads Her map of plenty all below. "Twas here-and facred be the spot of earth! Eliza's foul, born first above, Defcended to an humbler birth, And with a mortal's frailties ftrove. So, on fome towering peak that meets the sky, When millive feraphs downward fly, They stop, and for a while alight, Put off their rays celeftial bright, Then take fome milder form familiar to our eys, VI. Swiftly her infant virtues grew; Water'd by heaven's peculiar care, Her morning bloom was doubly fair, Will change the fcene ere noon of day, away. VII. Yet first, to fill her orb of life, The pious faint, the duteous child appear, 'The deftin'd bridegroom and the bride? Tuɛ man that loves his king and nation, And fhuns each vile affociation, That trufts his honeft deeds i' th' light, Get themselves hang'd, and fave the ftate, If o'er St. James's park he ftray, He flops not, paufing in his way; Nor pulls his hat down o'er his face, Nor itarts, looks back, and mends his pace : Or if he ramble to the Tower, He knows no crime, and dreads no power, But thence returning, free as wind, Thus, as I loiter'd t' other day, From Whitehall, through the Cockpit wander'd, A meffenger with furly eye View'd me quite round, and yet pafs'd by. No fharper look or rougher mien More pimpled cheeks, or nose more red; Place me among a hundred spies, Let all the room be ears and eyes; Or fearch my pocket-books and papers, No word or line fhall give me vapours. Send me to Whigs as true and hearty, As ever pity'd poor Maccarty; Let Townsend, Sunderland, be there, Or Robin Walpole in the chair: Or fend me to a club of Tories, That damn and curfe at Marlborough's glories, A FRAGMENT. { Through Tempe's pleafant vales and bowers As my full urn its current pours, In every plain, from every grove, But fee fhe comes, the beauteous caufe; And yield the last to love and Hymen's laws. O Peneus, urge this cruel fuit no more; Have I not to Diana fwore? Behold again to her I bow, A virgin of her spotlefs train; Hear Cynthia, and confirm my vow. No more these marks of triumph let me bear; Through heav'n, and earth, and ocean spreads; Thou art thyfclf the happiest child of love, Do not thy birth disclaim. Though fair as Phoebus thou fhould'st seem, Ceafe to foothe thy fruitlefs pain; In her foft cheeks and beauteous eyes, DUETTO for Apollo and Daphne. Apol. No more deny me, Your faithful swain. Daph. No longer try me, [Afide. Despairing fwain. Apol. Yet hear me. Daph. Forbear me. Apol. Still speak my pain. [Exit Daphne. [Throws away his borv and See-fhe appears: how wondrous fair! Daphne. What art thou, or from whence? And looks adoring, But move difdain. Apollo. She's gone-nor knows from whom the flics. Mistaken cyres false difdain! |