THE

ANIMAL CULE.

A

TALE.

Occafioned by his Grace the Duke of RUTLAND'S receiving the SMALL-POX by INOCULATION.

I.

IN Animalcules, Mufe, display

Spirits, of name unknown in fong!
Reader, a kind attention pay,

Nor think an ufeful comment long.
II.

Far lefs than mites, on mites they prey;
Minutest things may fwarms contain :
When o'er your ivory teeth they stray,
Then throb your little nerves with pain..
III.

Fluids, in drops, minutely fwell;

Thefe fubtil beings each contains ; In the final fanguine globes they dwell,

Roll from the heart, and trace the veins.

IV.

Through every tender tube they rove,

In finer fpirits ftrike the brain;
Wind quick through every fibrous grove,
And feek, through pores, the heart again.

V. If

V.

If they with purer drops dilate,

And lodge where entity began, They actuate with a genial heat, And kindle into future Man.

VI.

But, when our lives are Nature's due,

1

Air, feas, nor fire, their frames diffolve They matter, through all forms, pursue, And oft to genial heats revolve.

VII...

Thus once an Animalcule prov'd,
When Man, a patron to the bays;
This patron was in Greece belov'd;
Yet fame was faithlefs to his praise.
VIII.

In Rome this Animalcule grew

Mæcenas, whom the claffics rate!
Among the Gauls, it prov'd Richlieu,
In learning, power, and bounty great.
IX.

In Britain, Halifax it rofe;

(By Halifax, bloom'd Congreve's strains); And now it rediminish'd glows,

To glide through godlike Rutland's veins.

X.

A plague there is, too many know;
Too feldom perfect cures befall it:
The Mufe may term it Beauty's foe;
In phyfic, the Small-Pox we call it.

XI.

From Turks we learn this plague t' affuage,
They, by admitting, turn its courfe:
Their kifs will tame the tumor's rage;
By yielding, they o'ercome the force.
XII.

Thus Rutland did its touch invite,

While, watchful in the ambient air,
This little, guardian, subtil spright
Did with the poifon in repair.
XIII.

Th' infection from the heart it clears;
Th' infection, now dilated thin,

In pearly pimples but appears,
Expell'd upon the surface skin.

XIV.

And now it, mouldering, waftes away :

'Tis gone!-doom'd to return no more!

Our Animalcule keeps its stay,

And must new labyrinths explore.

XV.

And now the Noble's thoughts are feen,
Unmark'd, it views his heart's defires!

It now reflects what it has been,

And, rapturous, at his change admires!
XVI.

Ats priftine virtues kept, combine,
To be again in Rutland known

But they, immers'd, no longer shine,
Nor equal, nor encrease his own.

TO

1

TO

MRS. ELIZ. HAYWOOD,

ON HER NOVEL, CALLED,

THE RASH RESOLVE.

D°

OOM'D to a fate which damps the poet's flame,
A Muse, unfriended, greets thy rising name!
Unvers'd in envy's, or in flattery's phrase,
Greatness the flies, yet merit claims her praise ;
Nor will she, at her withering wreath repine,
But fmile, if fame and fortune cherish thine.

The Sciences in thy fweet genius charm,
And, with their ftrength, thy fex's foftnefs arm.
In thy full figures, painting's force we find,
As mufic fires, thy language lifts the mind.
Thy power gives form, and touches into life
The paffions imag'd in their bleeding strife:
Contrafted strokes, true art and fancy fhow,
And lights and shades in lively mixture flow.
Hope attacks Fear, and Reason, Love's control,
Jealoufy wounds, and Friendship heals the foul:
Black Falfehood wears bright Gallantry's disguise,
And the gilt cloud enchants the fair-one's eyes.
Thy dames, in grief and frailties lovely fhine,
And when moft mortal half appear divine.
If, when fome god-like, favourite paffion sways,
The willing heart too fatally obeys,
K 4

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15

20

Great

Great minds lament what cruel cenfure blames,
And ruin'd virtue generous pity claims.

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Eliza, ftill impaint Love's powerful Queen! Let Love, foft Love, exalt each swelling scene. Arm'd with keen wit, in fame's wide lifts advance! Spain yields in fiction, in politeness France.

Such orient light, as the first poets knew,

Flames from thy thought, and brightens every view! 30
Aftrong, a glorious, a luxuriant fire,

Which warms cold wifdom into wild defire!
Thy Fable glows fo rich through every page,
What moral's force can the fierce heat affuage?
And yet-but fay if ever doom'd to prove
The fad, the dear perplexities of Love!
Where feeming transport softens every pain,
Where fancy'd freedom waits the winning chain;
Varying from pangs to vifionary joys,

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Sweet is the fate, and charms as it destroys!
Say then-if Love to sudden rage gives way,
Will the foft paffion not refume its sway?
Charming, and charm'd, can Love from Love retire?
Can a cold convent quench th' unwilling fire?
Precept, if human, may our thoughts refine,
More we admire! but cannot prove divine.

45

AN