Now thro' the Place contagious Fevers reign, And madding Phrenfies rack the tortur'd Brain. Ate aloft her vengeful Terrors bears, Impetuous Death a ghaftly Visage wears; A pois'nous Vapour taints the gloomy Sky, The Scourge is up; Ten-thousand rave and die.. An Embaffy decrees the falling State, And splendid Presents on the Message wait; In mournful Pomp the penfive Envoys move, And feek, to heal their Griefs, Olympian Jove. Appeas'd with holy Rites, the Godhead spoke, And Words like these the Silence awful broke: • Callirrhoe's Blood, by young Corefus fpilt, Shall fave the finking State, and purge the • Or fome illuftrious Substitute may give Some one to die!' fhe begs the gazing Croud, With piercing Cries, and Interceffion loud; The once-enamour'd Train the Service flies; To love was eafy, but to live was wise. Lo! rob'd in White, the mitred Victimstands, With Eyes uplifted, and befeeching Hands! The The trembling Prieft unfheath'd the fatal Blade, And, fighing, thus addrefs'd the frighted Maid: Accept, dear Object of my fondest Aim, • This last best Proof of an unfully'd Flame ; Far from that Breast be pungent Grief re'mov'd, This Heart fhall bleed, and fave the Life it 'lov'd.' Quick, ere his Words the fixt Intent reveal, Deep in his Bofom lodg'd the pointed Steel; His Fall while weeping Multitudes admire, Truth and Corefus by one Wound expire. Mean-time new Pangs thro' all the Virgin dart, She feels a Tumult rage in ev'ry Part; Then firft her Soul a soft Emotion feiz'd, And firft in Death the hapless Lover pleas'd. • And wou'd'ft thou only die (she said) to save • AWretch ingrate from the remorseless Grave? Thy gen'rous Act its due Return to give, "Tis just to perish, and 'tis base to live.' She ending here, and, catching at the Word, Then funk, with decent Care and eafy Pace, The The CONTENTED CLOWN. γουλ A TALE. OUNG Hodge, a poor, but a contented Rented a homely Cottage on a Plain ; In wond'r For when, with furious Blaft, the North Wind blew, Hodge long had thought that Ruin muft enfue: That Hodge e'en turn'd an Architect himself: By which that he good Living kept you knew: On On half one side the antique Bed was plac'd, One whole Chair, and three broke, the other grac'd; All that you cou'd unneceffary call, Were fome old tatter'd Ballads on the Wall: Three Pigs, within Doors kept, and ferv'd with To thefe-a Wife-two Girls-a Son and Heir: Nor Nor doubt that both their Pleasures are fincere, When a brave chopping Child comes every Year. Such Hodge's Life was, which a neighb'ring 'Squire Did often with an envious Mind admire ; Wonder'd a Clown, in fuch penurious State, Never repin'd at Heav'n, and curs'd his Fate, But still was merry, and was still content; And tho' his Charge increas'd--ftill paid his Rent. -The 'Squire once caught him felling down an Oak, And, tho' he toil'd, ftill fung 'twixt ev'ry Stroke: Pleas'd at his lightfome Heart, began a Chat, And after fome Difcourfe of this and that ; Pray Hodge, cries he, as Hardship you endure, How can you be fo merry, and so poor? You whiftle, fing, contented are, and free, • Some Secret fure you have; pray tell it me.' Hodge ftops a while, and with a Leer replies, A fecret Curfe or two my Father hath, That never will thro' Life be worth a Groat. • But |