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Man is the fly that humps and sings,
And in the candle burns his wings :
A cruel lot! an hard decree !
Chloe's a fire, and touchwood we.

Some greater pow'r in heav'n above,
O mitigate this fated love!
For who expects a total cure,
Long as the sun and moon endure ?

The City Mouse and Country Mouse, A FABLE. From Hor. lib. ii. fat. 6. ver. 79. ad ult,

TN times of yore, an honest country mouse :

Kindly receiv'd, within his homely house,
A citizen, an ancient trusty friend,
Whom he before had often entertain'd..
Our country host, inur'd to taking pains,
Was frugal, close, attentive to his gains ;
Yet not to hofpitable deeds averse;
At seasons fit he op'd his heart and purse.
In short he set before his welcome guest,
Of what his cells afford, the very best;
Dry'd raisins, bạcon-fices, oats and pease ;
Dainties, that mice of quality might please,
Our cit, disdainful, eyes the various feast,

Tho' frankly prest, scarce condescends to taste.
Meantime the frugal farmer, spread on straw,
With chaff and tares appeas'd his craving maw,
Commending to his guest each tid-bit choice';
Town-mice, he knew, luxurious were, and nice.

At length the cockney silence broke :-My friend, Çan mice of sense and taste endure to spend,

Joyless,

Joyless, the lab’ring day and lonely night?
Can craggy rocks, and forests rude delight?
Better it were to quit this rugged scene,
To view the town polite and ways of men:
Come, be advis'd, on me your guide rely :-
Since every earth-born animal must die;
And not a mouse exempt, or small or great,
Shuns the sure stroke of unrelenting fate ;
Reason suggests, live merry, whilst you can,
Enjoy each moment of life's rapid span.

Can mouse refrain, when pleasure gilds the bait !
With joy the rustick quits his calm retreat ;
Intent on mirth, like man's, his thoughtless mind,
Grasping the present, to the future blind.
Now both with nimble steps haste o'er the plain,
In hopes by night the city walls to gain.
Now more than half her course the night had sped,
Loud Inor'd the rake fupine, dead-drunk in bed ;
The drowsy watchman, the night-walking punk,
Cold, disappointed, back to cellar sunk;
All Nept, fave needy bard in garret high,
Doom'd by stern fate to starve or versify;
When, lo! a lordly structure's ample gate
Invites our travellers to call and bait.
Here stately beds, and carpets richly dy'd
With purple shone; there dishes, laid aside,
In tempting plenty stood, delicious store,
Remains of what was drest the night before.
Now lolls the swain, on purple carpet plac'd,
Whilst well-bred Townly with officious haste
Scuttles, intent on hospitable cares,
And foon a feast magnificent prepares. '
Glad at the change of lot, his jovial guest
Riots secure, mirth crowns the splendid feast.
Mean-time, a rattling crash of grating bars
Both from their couches on a sudden scares ;

Away

Away they scamper; to perplex them more,
Dogs with terrifick bark incessant roar.

Hardly, at length, our swain, secur'd in chink,
From instant death escap’d, gains time to think :
Are these, my city-friend, are these your joys,
Perpetual tumult, all-confounding noise ?
Adieu ! deluded mouse; secure from harm, ,
I'll rest contented in my little farm ;
No danger threatens there; in peace I'll eat
My slender pulse; and bless the calm retreat.

SONNET. On the POWER of MUSICK.

To GRANTICOLA. See number iv. page 129.

ITTELL hast thou wrote, GRANTICOLA, I ween,

V And reason'd justly on the force of found : Let those, devoid of taste, indulge their spleen,

Untuneful elves, where-ever they are found.

Wheri Orpheus went to Pluto's regions drear,

In hopes to win Eurydice again,
His artful mufick charm’d the monarch's ear,

Nor could he long resist the foothing strain.

What strange emotions Alexander felt,

When great Timotheus struck the speaking lyre,
Well-skill'd to raise the hero, or to melt,

To kindle martial heat, or fond desire !
Such magick is in harmony divine,
Our passions to command, our souls resine.

A RE

A RECEIPT for the GOUT.

In a LETTER to a NOBLEMAN.
H Gout! the plague of rich and great!

Thou cramping padlock of the feet !
Oh Gout! thou puzzling knotty point !
You nick man's frame in every joint;
You, like inquisitor of Spain,
Rack, burn, and torture limbs to pain.

First, miner like, you work below,
And fap man's fortress by the toe:
If med’cine can the smart dislodge,
From bone to bone you skip and dodges
And when compellid to quit the fect,
You wound, like Parthians, in retreat.

The restless humour upward flies,
As dregs disturb’d fermenting rise.
From ancle forc'd you climb to knees,
And run the round by fore degrees.
So the four sap from erab-tree roota
Begins below and upward shoots ;
For when malignant juices Aow,
Hard knotty knobs in sharpness grow.

Old Oedipus, the Theban king,
With swelling feet felt gouty sting;
And tho' the fage could Sphinx explain,
The fage could ne'er unriddle pain.
Tho' Stoics talk of indolence,
Man's fiesh retains a feeling senise :
And what is worse, the wounded part
Finds small relief from doctor's art;
Great WILMOT's skill confounded stands,
When patient roars-mamy toe! my hands !

But as Apollo, god of wit, Besides his phyfick keeps a kit, · Numb. V.

(No doubt to sooth the patient's heart, When doses can't remove tlfe smart)

This easy lenitive admit;
Perhaps a verse may lull the fit.

'Tis said that bees, when raging found,
Are charm'd to peace by tinkling found;
Shrill lullabies in nurse's strain
Allwage the froward bantling's pain,
When cutting teeth, or ill-plac'd pin
Molest the tender baby's skin;
So when Gout-humours throb and ach,
The present soft prescription take.

In elbow-chair majestick fit
In full high twinge, yet scorn to fret;
Divert the pain with generous wine;
Read news from Flanders and the Rhine ;
Hold up the toe, like Pope of Rome;
Forbear to fcold, to swear, and fume ;
Let double flannel guard the part,
To mitigate the dreadful smart;
Wrap round the joint this harmless verse ;
And let dame PATIENCE be your nurse.

To Miss B- P-
T EW of our sex, you say, sincerely love;

r 'Tis man's best priviledge unblam'd to rove. Learn then, my fair, what arts will firmly bind, And fix in constancy th' unsettled mind.

When o’er our hearts triumphantly you reign,
Think not that beauty justifies disdain.
You too must love ; your breast in sweet return
With honest warmth should undissembled burn.

Happy the maid, and worthy to be bless’d,
Whose soul, entire by him the loves poffess’d,
Feels ev'ry vanity in fondness lost,
And wants no pow'r but that of pleasing most.

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