For every fugitive: and when thou thus Imprint the marks of wifdom on its wings. 'Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precious Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. Oh! let it not elude thy grafp, but like The good old patriarch upon record, Hold the fleet angel faft, until he bless thee. On Lord COBHAM's Gardens. By the Same. T puzzles much the fages' brains, IT Where Eden stood of yore; Some place it in Arabia's plains, Some fay, it is no more. But Cobham can these tales confute, As all the curious know; For he has prov'd beyond dispute, That paradife is STOW. Το FA By the Same. AIREST flow'r, all flow'rs excelling, Flow'rs of Eve's imbower'd dwelling, Emulate thy damask cheek; How the bud its fweets difclofes, Buds thy opening bloom befpeak. Emblems of a double kind; ; Emblems of thy fair complexion, Then pursue good sense and duty, Alluding to Milton's defcription of Eve's bower. Father Father FRANCIS's Prayer. Written in Lord WESTMORLAND'S Hermitage. E gay attire, ne marble hall, NE Ne arched roof, ne pictur'd wall; And oft, not always, with me dwell; The gravely dull, and pertly gay, An Inscription on the Cell. Beneath these moss-grown roots, this ruftic cell, An Inscription in the Cell. Sweet bird that fing'ft on yonder spray, While I beneath this breezy shade, In peace repose my careless head; And joining thy enraptur'd fong, Το To the Right Hon. HENRY PELHAM, Esq. TH HE humble Petition of the worshipful company of Poets and News-writers, SHEWETH, THAT your honour's petitioners (dealers in rhymes, And writers of scandal, for mending the times) By loffes in bus'nefs, and England's well-doing, Are funk in their credit, and verging on ruin. That these their misfortunes, they humbly conceive, Arife not from dulnefs, as fome folks believe, But from rubs in their way, that your honour has laid, And want of materials to carry on trade. That they always had form'd high conceits of their use, And meant their last breath should go out in abuse; But now (and they speak it with forrow and tears) Since your honour has fate at the helm of affairs, No party will join 'em, no faction invite To heed what they fay, or to read what they write; Sedition, and Tumult, and Discord are fled, And Slander scarce ventures to lift up her head VOL. IV. T In |