OMNE levis! quanquam certiffima mortis imago,
Confortem cupio te tamen effe tori.
Alma quies, optata veni! nam fic fine vita
Vivere quam fuave eft, fic fine morte mori!
The above Lines to Sleep, imitated in ENGLISH.
H! gentle fleep, though on thy form imprefs'd
Death's trueft, ftrongeft, lineaments appear,
To share my couch, thy prefence I request,
And foothe my fenfes with repose fincere.
Come, wifh'd for reft! then all my cares relieve,
For at thy kind approach all cares retire:
Thus, without life, how fweet it is to live!
Thus, without death, how pleafing to expire!
On a GENTLEMAN's faying he would dance with none but fair LADIES.
Spoken extempore by two Young LADIES.
YMON does vow, nay he does fwear,'
He'll dance with none but what are fair;
Suppofe we women fhou'd difpenfe
Our hands to none but men of sense;
Suppofe, well madam,-and what then?
Why, Sir, you'd never dance again.
Why do you draw me thus afide ?"
Attraction anfwer'd in a crack,
"If I pull this way, you pull back;
Both are endued with equal might,
To keep the equilibrio right.
Shou'd you, Repulfion, push too hard,
The univerfe would foon be marr'd;
And I, to quit my deftin'd law,
Shou'd foon the world to ruin draw;
Then ne'er to join in friendship chafe,
'Tis oppofition keeps us fafe."
Thus in a nation parties view,
Some this, and others that purfue;
The quarrel has a good effect,
For if thefe cheat us, thofe detect;
But should they leagues of friendship strike,
Why then they'd all be rogues alike.
The following Lines were fung by DURASTANTI, when he took her Leave of the English Stage. The Words were in hafte put together by Mr. Po PE, at the earnest Request of the Earl of PETERBOROW.
ENEROUS, gay, and gallant nation,
Bold in arms, and bright in arts;
Land fecure from all invafion,
All but Cupid's gentle darts!
From your charms, oh who would run ?
Who would leave you for the fun?
Happy foil, adieu, adieu!
Let old charmers yield to new.
In arms, in arts, be ftill more fhining;
All your joys be ftill increafing;
All your taftes be ftill refining;
All your jars for ever ceafing:
But let old charmers yield to new:
Happy foil, adieu, adieu!
A Burlesque of the above Lines, by Dr. ARBUTH NOT.
UPPIES, whom I now am leaving,
Merry fometimes, always mad,
Who lavish moft when debts are craving,
On fool, and farce, and masquerade!
Who would not from such bubbles run,
And leave fuch bleffings for the fun?
Happy foil, and fimple crew!
Let old fharpers yield to new ;
All your tastes be fill refining;
All your nonfenfe ftill more fhining:
Bleft in fome Berenstad or Bofcbi,
He more aukward, he more hufky;
And never want, when these are loft t'us,
Another Heidegger and Fauftus.
Happy foil, and fimple crew!
Let old fharpers yield to new!
Bubbles all, adieu, adieu!
A FAREWELL to LONDON in the Year 1714. By Mr. POPE.
(Never published in his Works.)
EAR, damn'd, diftra&ting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll teaze :
This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,
Ye harlots, fleep at ease!
Soft B and rough C's, adieu!
Earl Warwick make your moan,
The lively H-k and you
To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
Till the third watchman toll;
Let Jervafe gratis paint, and Frowd
Save three-pence and his foul.
Farewell Arbuthnot's raillery
On every learned fot;
And Garth, the best good Christian he,
Altho' he knows it not.
Lintot, farewell! thy bard muft go;
Farewell, unhappy Tonfon!
Heaven gives thee, for thy lofs of Rowe,
Lean Philips and fat Johnson.
Why should I ftay? Both parties rage;
My vixen mistress fqualls;
The wits in envious feuds engage,
And Homer (damn him!) calls.
The love of arts lies cold and dead
In Hallifax's urn;
And not one Muse, of all he fed,
Has yet the grace to mourn.
My friends, by turns, my friends confound,
Betray, and are betray'd :
Poor Yr's fold for fifty pound,
And B11 is a jade.
Why make I friendships with the great,
When I no favour feek?
Or follow girls seven hours in eight,-
I need but once a week?
Still idle, with a bufy air,
Deep whimfies to contrive;
The gayeft valetudinaire,
Moft thinking rake alive.
Solicitous for others ends,
Tho' fond of dear repofe;
Careless or drowfy with my friends,
And frolic with my foes.
Laborious lobster-nights, farewell!
For fober, ftudious days;
And Burlington's delicious meal,
For fallads, tarts, and peafe.
Adieu to all but Gay alone,
Whose foul, fincere and free,
Loves all mankind, but flatters none,
And fo may ftarve with me.
There, tafting all the bloom of spring,
Wak'd by the rip'ning breath of May,
Th' ungrateful fpoiler left his fting,
And with the honey fled away.
A TRANSLATION of LATIN VERSES. From the ARABIC.
Y boy, the glaffes hither bring,
Prefent the balmy treasure;
More briskly pour it round the ring,
And pour it without measure.
Wine can lovers pangs affuage;
Wine allays the cares of age.
The wine is like to ruddy Sol;
The cup of hue fo mellow,
To portly Cynthia, fair and full,
Courting her lordly fellow.
Brifker rouse the ruddy light:
Pour on wine to make it bright.
What though, in beauty's tranfient hour,
The roses lofe their blushing?
Above, the purple nectar pour,
And ftrow them fresh and flufhing.
Let Philomel forfake the grove ;
Wine infpires the fong of love.
Heed not fortune's fcornful frown;
In bumpers drown all forrow;
Sleep, foon, fhall all our wishes crown,
And crown them till to-morrow.
Bring round to me the nectar'd stream,
Wine infpires the golden dream.
How sweet the genial flush of drink!
Larger draughts give larger pleasure :
Sit we till we ceafe to think
On aught befides our mellow treasure.
My friend, be jovial; right or wrong,
We'll drink our glass, and fing our fong.
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