So some coarse Country Wench, almost decay'd,
Trudges to town, and first turns Chambermaid;
Awkward and supple, each devoir to pay;
She flatters her good Lady twice a day;
Thought wond'rous honest, tho' of mean degree,
And strangely lik'd for her Simplicity:
In a translated Suit, then tries the Town,
With borrow'd Pins, and Patches not her own:
But just endur'd the winter she began,
And in four months a batter'd Harridan.
Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk,
To bawd for others, and go shares with Punk.

UMBRA.

[From the Miscellanies. The original of the character has been variously sought in Walter Carey (a F. R. S. and Whig official), Charles Johnson and Ambrose Philips. Umbra' must in no case be confounded with the 'Lord Umbra' of the Satires.]

LOSE to the best known Author Umbra sits,

CLO

The constant Index to all Button's Wits1.

"Who's here?" cries Umbra: "only Johnson,”—“Oh!
Your Slave," and exit; but returns with Rowe:
"Dear Rowe, let's sit and talk of tragedies:"
Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he flies.
Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his Heel,
And in a Moment fastens upon Steele;

5

But cries as soon, "Dear Dick, I must be gone,
For, if I know his Tread, here's Addison.
Says Addison to Steele, "Tis Time to go;"
Pope to the Closet steps aside with Rowe.
Poor Umbra left in this abandoned Pickle,
E'en sets him down and writes to honest T-3.
Fool! 'tis in vain from Wit to Wit to roam;
Know, Sense, like Charity, begins at Home.

TO MR JOHN MOORE, Author of the celebrated Worm-Powder.

[From the Miscellanies.]

How much, egregious Moore, are we Man is a very Worm by birth,

Deceiv'd by Shows and Forms!

Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All Humankind are Worms.

1 [Button's coffee-house in Covent Garden was the resort of Addison's circle.]

2 [Charles Johnson, a second-rate dramatist.

Vile, Reptile, weak, and vain!
A While he crawls upon the Earth,
Then shrinks to Earth again.

Bowles.]

3 [Tickell. See Introductory Memoir, P xxviii.

That Woman is a Worm, we find

E'er since our Grandam's evil;
She first convers'd with her own Kind,
That ancient Worm, the Devil.

The Learn'd themselves we Book-worms
name,

The Blockhead is a Slow-worm;

The Nymph whose Tail is all on Flame,
Is aptly term'd a Glow-worm:

The Fops are painted Butterflies,
That flutter for a Day;

First from a Worm they take their Rise,
And in a Worm decay.

The Flatterer an Ear-wig grows;
Thus Worms suit all Conditions;
Misers are Muck - worms, Silkworms
Beaux,

And Death-watches Physicians.

That Statesmen have the Worm, is seen,
By all their winding Play;
Their Conscience is a Worm within,
That gnaws them Night and Day.

Ah Moore! thy Skill were well employ'd,
And greater Gain would rise,
If thou couldst make the Courtier void

The Worm that never dies!

O learned Friend of Abchurch-Lane1,
Who sett'st our entrails free,
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain,

Since Worms shall eat ev'n thee.

Our Fate thou only canst adjourn
Some few short years, no more!
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn,
Who Maggots were before.

SANDYS' GHOST;

OR

A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE NEW OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

AS IT WAS INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY PERSONS OF QUALITY.

[From the Miscellanies. It is obviously not by Gay (see St. 13). Sir Walter Scott, quoted by Roscoe, explains the ballad to refer to a translation of the Metamorphoses published by Sir Samuel Garth (and written by several hands, of which Pope's was one), to supersede the old translation of George Sandys, who died in 1643.]

E Lords and Commons, Men of Hear how a Ghost in dead of Night,

YE

Wit,

And Pleasure about Town; Read this ere you translate one Bit Of Books of high Renown.

Beware of Latin Authors all!

Nor think your Verses Sterling,
Though with a Golden Pen you scrawl,
And scribble in a Berlin:

For not the Desk with silver Nails,
Nor Bureau of Expense,
Nor Standish well japann'd avails
To writing of good Sense.

With saucer Eyes of Fire,
In woeful wise did sore affright

A Wit and courtly 'Squire.

Rare Imp of Phoebus, hopeful Youth
Like Puppy tame that uses
To fetch and carry, in his Mouth,

The Works of all the Muses.

Ah! why did he write Poetry,

That hereto was so civil;
And sell his soul for vanity,

To Rhyming and the Devil?

1 [Abchurch (properly Upchurch) Lane, Lombard Street.]

"A Metamorphosis more strange
Than all his Books can vapour;"

'To what' (quoth 'squire) 'shall Ovid change?'
Quoth Sandys: "To waste paper.'

THE TRANSLATOR.

Egbert SANGER served his apprenticeship with Jacob Tonson, and succeeded Bernard Lintot in his shop at Middle Temple Gate, Fleet Street. Lintot printed Ozell's translation of Perrault's Characters, and Sanger his translation of Boileau's Lutrin, recommended by Rowe, in 1709. Warton.

ZELL11, at Sanger's call, invoked his Muse-
For who to sing for Sanger could refuse?

His numbers such as Sanger's self might use.
Reviving Perrault, murdering Boileau, he
Slander'd the ancients first, then Wycherley;
Which yet not much that old bard's anger raised,
Since those were slander'd most, whom Ozell praised.
Nor had the gentle satire caus'd complaining,
Had not sage Rowe pronounc'd it entertaining:
How great must be the judgment of that writer
Who the Plain-dealer1 damns, and prints the Biter 2!

THE THREE GENTLE SHEPHERDS.

F gentle Philips will I ever sing,

OF

With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring.
My numbers too for ever will I vary,
With gentle Budgell and with gentle Carey3.
Or if in ranging of the names I judge ill,
With gentle Carey and with gentle Budgell":
Oh! may all gentle bards together place ye,
Men of good hearts, and men of delicacy.
May satire ne'er befool ye, or beknave ye,

And from all wits that have a knack, God save ye5.

5

ΙΟ

LINES

WRITTEN IN WINDSOR FOREST.

[LETTER to a Lady (Martha Blount) in Bowles, dated by Carruthers,
September, 1717.]

LL hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade!

ALL

Scene of my youthful loves and happier hours!
Where the kind Muses met me as I stray'd,

And gently press'd my hand, and said "Be ours!-
Take all thou e'er shalt have, a constant Muse:

At Court thou may'st be liked, but nothing gain:
Stock thou may'st buy and sell, but always lose,
And love the brightest eyes, but love in vain."

5

6

1 [By Wycherley.]

2 [By Rowe.]

3 Henry Carey. Roscoe. The author of Sally in our alley' and a dramatist. But there was also a John Carey, a contributor to the Tatler and Spectator, and Walter Carey. Carruthers.

4 [These four lines seem to have suggested Canning's well-known epigram on Hiley and Bragge.]

5 Curll said, that in prose he was equal to Pope; but that in verse Pope had merely a particular knack. Bowles.

TO MRS M. B. ON HER BIRTH-DAY1.

[1723.]

H be thou blest with all that Heav'n can send,

Not with those Toys the female world admire,
Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire.
With added years if Life bring nothing new,
But, like a Sieve, let ev'ry blessing thro',
Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er,
And all we gain, some sad Reflection more;
Is that a Birth-Day? 'tis alas! too clear,
'Tis but the Fun'ral of the former year.

Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content,
And the gay Conscience of a life well spent,
Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace.
Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear;
Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
In some soft Dream, or Extasy of joy,
Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the Tomb,
And wake to Raptures in a Life to come.

Friend:

10

15

20

THE CHALLENGE.

A COURT BALLAD.

To the Tune of 'To all you Ladies now at Land,' &c. [By Dorset.]

Written anno 1717. Warton.

[THIS delightful trifle is addressed to Pope's charming friends at the Court of the Prince and Princess of Wales (afterwards King George II. and Queen Caroline), and is full of petits mots alluding to the ladies and gentlemen of their society.]

[Martha Blount. Lines 5-10 occur as a reflexion on the poet's own birthday in a letter to Gay of the year 1722, and they were also adapted for him to a kind of epitaph on Henry Mordaunt, the nephew of Lord Peterborough, who committed suicide in 1724. On this occasion the following lines were added:

'If there's no hope with kind, though fainter ray
To gild the ev'ning of our future day;
If ev'ry page of life's long volume tell

The lines concerning which the charge of plagiarism was mutually made between Pope and James Moore-Smythe were omitted by Pope on reprinting the poem, but introduced (slightly altered) in the Characters of Women (Morai Essays, Ep. 11. vv. 243-248).]

2 [This delightful trifle is addressed to Pope's charming friends at the Court of the Prince and Princess of Wales (afterwards King George II. and Queen Caroline), and is full of petits mots The same dull story-MORDAUNT, thou didst alluding to the ladies and gentlemen of their well.'

society.]