« EelmineJätka »
Why should I stay? Both parties rage;
The wits in envious feuds engage;
And Homer (damn him!) calls.
The love of arts lies cold and dead
And not one Muse of all he fed,
My friends, by turns, my friends confound,
Poor Yrs fold for fifty pounds,
Why make I friendships with the great,
Or follow girls feven hours in eight?-
Still idle, with a bufy air,
Deep whimfies to contrive
The gayest valetudinaire,
Most thinking rake alive.
Solicitous for other ends,
Tho' fond of dear repose;
Careless or drowsy with my friends,
And frolick with my foes.
Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell,
And Burlington's delicious meal,
Adieu to all but Gay alone,
Whofe foul, fincere and free,
Loves all mankind, but flatters none, And fo may starve with me.
Thefe Lines were added by Mr. POPE after the present Conclufion of his Addrefs to Mifs MARTHA BLOUNT, on her leaving Town, &c. "As fome fond Virgin, &c."
this strange town a different course we take, Refine ourselves to fpirit, for your fake.
For want of you, we spend our random wit on
Thus, Madam, most men talk, and fome men do; The rest is told you in a line or two.
Some strangely wonder you're not fond to marry-
The good priests whisper-Where's the chevalier?
And if poor Pope is
the fault is yours.
The following Lines were fung by Durastanti, when fhe took her leave of the English Stage. The Words were in Hafte put together by Mr. POPE, at the Request of the Earl of PETERBOROW.
ENEROUS, gay, and gallant nation,
Land fecure from all invafion,
All but Cupid's gentle darts!
From your charms, oh who would run?
Happy foil, adieu, adieu!
Let old charmers yield to new.
In arms, in arts, be still more shining; All your joys be ftill encreasing;
All your taftes be still refining;
All your jars for ever ceafing:
But let old charmers yield to new :-
Upon the Duke of MARLBOROUGH's House at Woodstock.
Atria longè patent; fed nec cœnantibus ufquam,
EE, Sir, here's the grand approach,
This way is for his Grace's coach;
There lies the bridge, and here's the clock,
The fpacious court, the colonnade,
And mark how wide the hall is made!
Thanks, Sir, cry'd I, 'tis very fine,