Ovid both felt the pain, and found the cafe :
Phyficians ftudy moft their own disease.
The practice of that age in this we try,
Ladies would liften then, and lovers lye.
Who flatter'd moft the fair were most polite,
Each thought her own admirer in the right:
To be but faintly rude was criminal,

But to be boldly fo, aton'd for all.

Breeding was banifh'd for the fair-one's fake,
The fex ne'er gives, but fuffers ours should take.

Advice to you, my lord, in vain we bring;
The flowers ne'er fail to meet the blooming fpring.
Though you poffefs all Nature's gifts, take care;
Love's queen has charms, but fatal is her fnare.

On all that Goddess her falfe fmiles beftows;
As on the feas fhe reigns, from whence the rofe.
Young Zephyrs figh with fragrant breath, soft gales
Guide her gay barge, and fwell the filken fails:
Each filver wave in beauteous order moves,
Fair as her bofom, gentle as her doves ;
But he that once embarks, too furely finds
A fullen fky, black storms, and angry winds;
Cares, fears, and anguish, hovering on the coast,
And wrecks of wretches by their folly loft.

When coming Time fhall bless you with a bride,
Let paffion not persuade, but reason guide ;
Instead of gold, let gentle Truth endear;
She has molt charms who is the most fincere.
Shun vain variety, 'tis but difeafe;
Weak appetites are ever hand to please.

The

The nymph muft fear to be inquifitive;

"Tis for the fex's quiet, to believe.

Her air an easy confidence must show,

And fhun to find what fhe would dread to know;
Still charming with all arts that can engage,
And be the Juliana of the age.

To the Dutchefs of BOLTON, on her ftaying all the Winter in the Country.

EASE rural conquefts, and fet free your fwains, To Dryads leave the groves, to Nymphs the plains. In penfive dales alone let Echo dwell,

And each fad frgh the hears with forrow tell.
Hafte, let your eyes at Kent's pavilion * fhine,-
It wants but ftars, and then the work 's divine.
Of late, Fame only tells of yielding towns,
Of captive generals, and protected crowns:
Of purchas'd laurels, and of battles won,
Lines forc'd, ftates vanquifh'd, provinces o'er-run,
And all Alcides' labour fumm'd in one.

The brave muft to the fair now yield the prize,
And English arms fubmit to English eyes :
In which bright lift among the first you stand ;
Though each a Goddefs, or a Sunderland.

*A Gallery at St. James's..

}

ΤΟ

TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, ON HIS VOLUNTARY BANISHMENT.

G

O, mighty prince, and those great nations fee,
Which thy victorious arms before made free
View that fam'd column, where thy name engrav'd
Shall tell their children who their empire fav'd,
Point out that marble where thy worth is shown,
To every grateful country but thy own.
O cenfure undeferv'd! unequal fate!

Which ftrove to leffen hin who made her great
Which, pamper'd with fuccefs and rich in fame,
Extoll'd his conquests, but condemn'd his name.
But virtue is a crime when plac'd on high,
Though all the fault 's in the beholder's cye ;
Yet he, untouch'd, as in the heat of wars,
Flies from no danger but domeftic jars,
Smiles at the dart which angry Envy shakes,
And only fears for Her whom he forfakes:
He grieves to find the courfe of virtue crofs'd,
Blushing to see our blood no better loft;
Didfains in factious parties to contend,
And proves
in abfence moft Britannia's friend.
So the great Scipio of old, to fhun

That glorious envy which his arms had won,
Far from his dear, ungrateful Rome retir❜d,
Prepar'd, whene'er his country's cause requir'd,
To fhine in peace or war, and be again admir'd.

;

TO

то THE

EARL OF GODOLPHIN.

WHILST weeping Europe bends beneath her ills,

And where the fword deftroys not, famine kills;

Our ifle enjoys, by your fuccefsful care,
The pomp of peace, amidst the woes of war.
So much the publick to your prudence owes,
You think no labours long for our repose:
Such conduct, fuch integrity are shown,
There are no coffers empty, but your own.

From mean dependance, merit you retrieve,
Unafk'd you offer, and unfeen you give:
Your favour, like the Nile, increase bestows,
And yet conceals the fource from whence it flows.
No pomp, or grand appearance, you approve :
A people at their ease is what you love:
To leffen taxes, and a nation fave,

Are all the grants your fervices would have.
Thus far the ftate-machine wants no repair,
But moves in matchlefs order by your care;
Free from confufion, fettled and ferene;
And, like the univerfe, by fprings unfeen.

But now fome ftar, finifter to our prayers,
Contrives new fchemes, and calls you from affairs?
No anguish in your looks, or cares appear,
But how to teach th' unpractis'd crew to fteer.
Thus, like a victim, no conftraint you need,
To expiate their offence by whom you bleed.

Ingratitude's a weed of every clime,

It thrives too fast at first, but fades in time.

The god of day, and your own lot 's the fame;
have rais'd, obfcure your flame

The vapours you
But though you fuffer, and awhile retreat,

Your globe of light looks larger as you fet.

:

- ON

HER MAJESTY'S STATUE,

IN

ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD.

NE

TEAR the vast bulk of that ftupendous frame, Known by the Gentiles' great apostle's name; With grace divine, great Anna's feen to rise, An awful form that glads a nation's eyes: Beneath her feet four mighty realms appear, And with due reverence pay their homage there. Britain and Ireland feem to own her grace,

And even wild India wears a fmiling face.

But France alone with downcaft eyes is feen,
The fad attendant of fo good a Queen :
Ungrateful country! to forget fo foon,
All that great Anna for thy fake has done :
When fworn the kind defender of thy cause,
Spite of her dear religion, spite of laws;
For thee fhe fheath'd the terrors of her fword,
For thee the broke her General- and her word :

-

For