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Mean let me shrink, or spread sweet shade o'er all,
Low as the fhrub, or as the cedar tall!—

'Twas vain! 'twas wild-I fought the middle ftate, And found the good, and found the truly great.

Though verfe can never give my foul her aim; 25 Though action only claims fubftantial fame; Though fate denies what my proud wants require, Yet grant me, heaven, by knowledge to aspire: Thus to enquiry let me prompt the mind; Thus clear dimm'd truth, and bid her blefs mankind; 30 From the pierc'd orphan thus draw shafts of grief, Arm want with patience, and teach wealth relief! To ferve lov'd liberty infpire my breath! Or, if my life be ufelefs, grant me death; For he, who ufelefs is in life furvey'd, Burthens that world, his duty bids him aid.


Say, what have honours to allure the mind, Which he gains moft, who leaft has ferv'd mankind? Titles, when worn by fools, I dare despise;

Yet they claim homage, when they crown the wife. 40 When high diftin&tion marks deferving heirs,

Defert ftill dignifies the mark it wears.

But, who to birth alone would honours owe?
Honours, if true, from feeds of merit grow.

Thofe trees, with fweeteft charms, invite our eyes, 45
Which, from our own engraftment, fruitful rife.
Still we love beft what we with labour gain,
As the child's dearer for the mother's pain.
The Great I would not envy nor deride;
Nor ftoop to fwell a vain Superior's pride;



Nor view an Equal's hope with jealous eyes;
Nor crush the wretch beneath who wailing lies.
My fympathizing breaft his grief can feel,
And my eye weep the wound I cannot heal.
Ne'er among friendships let me fow debate,
Nor by another's fall advance my state;
Nor mifufe wit against an absent friend :
Let me the virtues of a foe defend!


In wealth and want true minds preferve their weight; Meek, though exalted; though difgrac'd, elate; 60 Generous and grateful, wrong'd or help'd, they live; Grateful to ferve, and generous to forgive.


This may they learn, who close thy life attend; Which, dear in memory, ftill inftructs thy friend. Though cruel diftance bars my groffer eye, My foul, clear-fighted, draws thy virtue nigh; Through her deep woe that quickening comfort gleams, And lights up Fortitude with Friendship's beams.



VICE-PRINCIPAL of St MARY-HALL, OXFORD, Being presented by the Honourable Mrs. KNIGHT, to the Living of GOSFIELD in ESSEX.


HILE by mean arts and meaner patrons rife

Priefts, whom the learned and the good despise; This fees fair Knight, in whose transcendent mind, Are wisdom, purity, and truth enfhrin'd.

A modest merit now she plans to lift,
Thy living, Godsfield! falls her inftant gift.
Let me (the faid) reward alone the wife,
And make the church-revenue Virtue's prize.
She fought the man of honeft, candid breast,
In faith, in works of goodness, full expreft;
Though young, yet tutoring academic youth
To science moral, and religious truth.
She fought where the difinterested friend,
The scholar, fage, and free companion blend;
The pleafing poet, and the deep divine,




She fought, the found, and, Hart! the prize was thine.



Fulvia's wifdom be a flave to will,

Her darling paffions, scandal and quadrille; On friends and foes her tongue a fatire known, Her deeds a fatire on herself alone.

On her poor kindred deigns fhe word or look ?
'Tis cold refpect, or 'tis unjust rebuke;

Worfe when good-natur'd, than when moft fevere
The jeft impure then pains the modeft ear.
How juft the fceptic! the divine how odd!
What turns of wit play smartly on her God!

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The fates, my nearest kindred, foes decree :
Fulvia, when piqu'd at them, strait pities me.
She, like Benevolence, a finile bestows,
Favours to me indulge her fpleen to those.
The banquet ferv'd, with peereffes I fit:
She tells my ftory, and repeats my wit.
With mouth distorted, through a founding nofe
It comes, now homelinefs more homely grows.
With fee-faw founds and nonfenfe not my own,
She fkrews her features, and fhe cracks her tone.
How fine your Baftard! why fo foft a strain ?
What fuch a Mother? fatirize again!




Oft I object-but fix'd is Fulvia's willAh! though unkind, fhe is my mother still! The verfe now flows, the manufcript the claims. 2 25 'Tis fam'd-The fame, each curious fair enflames : The wild-fire runs; from copy, copy grows : The Brets, alarm'd, a separate peace propose. 'Tis ratified-How alter'd Fulvia's look! My wit 's degraded, and my cause forfook. Thus the What 's poetry but to amuse? Might I advise-there are more solid views. With a cool air fhe adds: This tale is old: Were it my cafe, it should no more be told. Complaints-bad I been worthy to adviseYou know-But when are wits, like women, wife? True it may take; but, think whate'er you lift, All love the fatire, none the fatirift.


I start, I ftare, ftand fix'd, then pause awhile; Then hefitate, then ponder well, then fmile.

M 3


40 Ma

Madam-a penfion lost—and where's amends?
Sir (the replies) indeed you 'll lofe your friends.
Why did I start? 'twas but a change of wind—
Or the fame thing—the lady chang'd her mind.
I bow, depart, defpife, difcern her all :
Nanny revifits, and difgrac'd I fall.

Let Fulvia's friendship whirl with every whim!
A reed, a weather cock, a fhade, a dream :
No more the friendship shall be now display'd
By weather-cock, or reed, or dream, or fhade;
To Nanny fix'd unvarying fhall it tend,

For fouls, fo form'd alike, were form'd to blend.







LOS'D are those eyes, that beam'd seraphic fire;


Cold is that breast, which gave the world defire; Mute is the voice where winning foftness warm'd, Where mufic melted, and where wisdom charm'd, And lively wit, which, decently confin'd, No prude e'er thought impure, no friend unkind. Could modeft knowledge, fair untrifling youth, Perfuafive reafon and endearing truth,



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