THE THREE GENTLE SHEPHERDS.

Or gentle Philips1 will I ever sing,
With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring;
My numbers, too, for ever will I vary,
With gentle Budgell,2 and with gentle Carey.
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 ye!

EPIGRAM,

ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG WHICH I GAVE TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS.

I am His Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

THE TRANSLATOR.

OZELL, 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, murd'ring 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. 16 Philips : Ambrose Philips.-2 Budgell:' Eustace Budgell.—3 Carey : ' Henry Carey.

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Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast,
Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd:
They curse the cruel weight they 're doom'd to bear;
She in more gentle sounds express'd her care.

Was it for this, that I these roses wear?
For this, new-set the jewels for my hair?
Ah, Princess with what zeal have I pursued!
Almost forgot the duty of a prude.

This king I never could attend too soon;

I miss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon.
For thee, ah! what for thee did I resign?
My passions, pleasures, all that e'er was mine:
I've sacrificed both modesty and ease;
Left operas, and went to filthy plays:
Double-entendres shock'd my tender ear;
Yet even this, for thee, I chose to bear:
In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay,
And every joy of life before me lay;
By honour prompted, and by pride restrain ́d,
The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd :
Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe
Censured my neighbours, and said daily prayer.
Alas, how changed! with this same sermon-mien,
The filthy What-d'ye-call-it 1-I have seen.
Ah, royal Princess! for whose sake I lost
The reputation, which so dear had cost;
I, who avoided every public place,

When bloom and beauty bid me show my face,
Now near thee, constant, I each night abide,
With never-failing duty, by thy side;
Myself and daughters standing in a row,
To all the foreigners a goodly show.

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Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin,
And merchants' wives close by your side had been,
Had I not amply fill'd the empty place,

And saved your Highness from the dire disgrace:
Yet Cockatilla's artifice prevails,

When all my duty and my merit fails:
That Cockatilla, whose deluding airs
Corrupts our virgins, and our youth ensnares;
So sunk her character, and lost her fame,
Scarce visited before your Highness came:
Yet for the bedchamber 'tis she you choose,
Whilst zeal, and fame, and virtue you refuse.
Ah, worthy choice; not one of all your train
Which censures blast not, or dishonours stain.
I know the Court, with all its treach'rous wiles,
The false caresses, and undoing smiles.
Ah, Princess! learn'd in all the courtly arts,
To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts.'

TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE

1 IN beauty or wit,

No mortal as yet

To question your empire has dared;
But men of discerning

Have thought that in learning

To yield to a lady was hard.

2 Impertinent schools,
With musty dull rules,

Have reading to females denied:

So Papists refuse

The Bible to use,

Lest flocks should be wise as their guide.

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3 'Twas a woman at first
(Indeed she was curs'd)

In knowledge that tasted delight,
And sages agree

The laws should decree

To the first possessor the right.

4 Then bravely, fair dame,
Resume the old claim,

Which to your whole sex does belong;
And let men receive,

From a second bright Eve,

The knowledge of right and of wrong.

5 But if the first Eve

Hard doom did receive,

When only one apple had she,

What a punishment new

Shall be found out for you,

Who, tasting, have robb'd the whole tree!

EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES

ON A PORTRAIT OF LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE, PAINTED BY KNELLER.

THE playful smiles around the dimpled mouth,
That happy air of majesty and truth,

So would I draw: but, oh! 'tis vain to try,
My narrow genius does the power deny;
The equal lustre of the heavenly mind,
Where every grace with every virtue's join'd:

Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe,
With greatness easy, and with wit sincere ;
With just description show the soul divine,
And the whole princess in my work should shine.

LINES SUNG BY DURASTANTI,

WHEN SHE TOOK LEAVE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE.

1 GENEROUS, gay, and gallant nation,
Bold in arms, and bright in arts;
Land secure from all invasion,

All but Cupid's gentle darts!

From your charms, oh! who would run ?
Who would leave you for the sun?
Happy soil, adieu, adieu!

2 Let old charmers yield to new;

In arms, in arts, be still more shining:
All your joys be still increasing;
All your tastes be still refining;

All your jars for ever ceasing;

But let old charmers yield to new :
Happy soil, adieu, adieu!

UPON THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH'S HOUSE AT WOODSTOCK.

'SEE, sir, here's the grand approach,

This way is for his Grace's coach :

There lies the bridge, and here's the clock,

Observe the lion and the cock,