Spectres and Heroes, Husbands and their Wives, With Monkish Drones, that dream away their Lives. Long have I labour'd with the dire Disease,

Nor found, but from Ardelia's Numbers, Ease:

The dancing Verse runs thro' my sluggish Veins, Where dull and cold the frozen Blood remains. Pale Cares and anxious Thoughts give way in hafte, And to returning Joy refign my Breast;

Then free from ev'ry Pain I did endure,

I bless the charming Author of my Cure.

So when to SAUL the great Musician play'd, The fullen Fiend unwillingly obey'd,

(Shade. And left the Monarch's Breaft, to seek fome safer

·HORACE, Book II. Ode IV. Imitated.

The Lord G-----, to the Earl of S-----.

D

I.

O not, moft fragrant Earl, difclaim

Thy bright, thy reputable Flame,

To Brgle the Brown;

But publickly espouse the Dame,

And fay, G ₫

the Town.

II.

Full many Heroes, fierce and keen,

With Drabs have deeply fmitten been,
Although right good Commanders:
Some who with you have Hounslow feen,
And some who've been in Flanders.

III.

Did not base Greber's * PEG inflame

The fober Earl of Nm?

Of fober Sire defcended,,

That careless of his Soul and Fame,

To Play-houses he nightly came,

And left Church undefended.

IV.

The Monarch who of France is Hight,

Who rules the Roaft with matchless Might,

Since WILLIAM went to Heaven;

Loves MAINTENON, his Lady bright,

Who was but SCARRON'S Leaving.

V.

Tho' thy dear Father kept an Inn

At grifly Head of Sarazen,

* Seigniora Francesca Marguarita de l'Epine, an Italian Songstress.

For Carriers at Northampton;

Yet fhe might come of gentler Kin,

Than e'er that Father dreamt on.

VI.

Of Proffers large her Choice had she,
Of Jewels, Plate, and Land in Fee,
Which fhe with Scorn rejected;

And can a Nymph fo virtuous be

Of base-born Blood suspected?

VII.

Her dimple Cheek, and roguish Eye,
Her flender Waste, and taper Thigh,
I always thought provoking;

But, faith, tho' I talk waggishly,

I mean no more than Joking.

VIII.

Then be not jealous, Friend, for why?

My Lady Marchioness is nigh,

To

To fee I ne'er shall hurt ye;

Befides, you know full well, that I
Am turn'd of five and forty.

The RECONCILEMENT between JACOB TONSON and Mr. CONGREVE. In Imitation of HORACE, Book III. Ode IX.

Tonfon.

HILE at my House in Fleetfreet

WH

once you lay,

How merrily, dear Sir, Time pafs'd away? While I partook your Wine, your Wit, and Mirth,

I was the happiest Creature on * God's Tearth. Congreve. While in your early Days of Reputation, You for blue Garters had not fuch a Paffion;

While yet you

did not use (as now your Trade is)

To drink with noble Lords, and toast their Ladies;

* Tonfon (Sen.) his Dialect.

Thou