From the records of fame condemn'd to pass
To * Brisquet's calendar, a rubrick afs.

Few, wondrous few! are eagle-ey'd to find
A plain disease, or blemish in the mind :
Few can, though wisdom should their health insure,
Difpaffionate and cool attend a cure.
In youth difus'd to obey the needful rein,
Well pleas'd a savage liberty to gain,
We fate the kind defire of every fenfe,
And lull our age in thoughlefs indolence:
Yet all are Solons in their own conceit,
Though, to fupply the vacancy of wit,
Folly and Pride, impatient of control,
The fifter-twins of Sloth, poffefs the foul.
By Kneller were the gay Pumilio drawn,
Like great Alcides, with a back of brawn :
I scarcely think his picture would have power
To make him fight the champions of the Tower:
Though lions there are tolerably tame,
And civil as the court from which they came.
But yet, without experience, fenfe, or arts,
Pumilio boasts sufficiency of parts :
Imagines he alone is amply fit

To guide the ftate, or give the stamp to wit :
Pride paints the mind with an heroic air,
Nor finds he a defect of vigour there.

* Brisquet, Jester to Francis I. of France, kept a

calendar of fools.

When

When Philomel of old essay'd to fing,
And in his rofy progress hail'd the spring,
Th' aerial fongfsters liftening to the lays,
By filent ecstasy confeft her praise.
At length, to rival her enchanting note,
The peacock strains the discord of his throat,
In hope his hideous shrieks would grateful prove,
But the nice audience hoot him through the grove.
Confcious of wanted worth, and just disdain,
Lowering his creft, he creeps to Juno's fane:
To his protectress there reveals the cafe;
And for a fweeter voice devoutly prays.
Then thus reply'd the radiant goddefs, known
By her fair rolling eyes and rattling tone:

My favourite bird! of all the feather'd kind,
Each species had peculiar gifts affign'd:
The towering eagles to the realms of light
By their strong pounces claim a regal right;
The fwan, contented with an humbler fate,
Low on the fishy river rows in state :
Gay starry plumes thy length of train bedeck,
And the green emerald twinkles on thy neck;
But the poor nightingale, in mean attire,
Is made chief warbler of the woodland choir.
These various bounties were dispos'd above,
And ratify'd th' unchanging will of Jove:
Difcern thy talent, and his laws adore;
Be what thou wert design'd, nor aim at more.

TO

FROM
ROM this auspicious day three kingdoms date
The fairest favours of indulgent Fate :
From this the months in radiant circles run,
As stars receive their luftre from the fun.

To you the fceptres of all Europe bend,
The victor those revere, and these the friend;
Your filken reins the willing nations crave,
For 'tis your lov'd prerogative to fav.
Mild amidst triumphs, victory bestows
On you renown, and freedom on your foes;
Obfervant of your will, the goddess brings
Palms in her hand, and healing in her wings.

But, as the brighteît beams and gentlest showers
Were once referv'd for Eden's opening flowers;
So, though remoter realms your influence share,
Britannia boafts to be your darling care.
By your great wisdom and refiftless might,
Abroad we conquer, and at home unite:
Nature had join'd the lands; but you alone
Make their affections and their councils one;
You speak---the jarring principles remove,
And, close combin'd, the fifter-nations prove
Rivals alone in loyalty and love.

}

What

What power would now forbid the warrior-queen
To wave the red-cross banners o'er the Seine?
Others for titles urge the foldier's toil,
Or meanly feek the foe, to seize the fpoil:
But you for right your pious arms employ,
And conquer to restore, and not destroy;
Vouchsafing audience to your fuppliant foes,
You long to give the labouring world repose;
Concurring justice waits from you the word,
Pleas'd, when you fix the scales, to sheath the sword.

From this propitious omen we presage
Unnumber'd bleffings to the coming age,
Establish'd Faith, the daughter of the skies,
Shall see new temples by your bounty rise;
Commerce beneath the fouthern stars shall thrive,
Inteftine feuds expire, and arts revive;
Safe in their shades the Muses shall remain,
And fing the milder glories of your reign.

So, whilft offended heaven exerts its power,
Swift fly the lightnings, loud the thunders roar,
But, when our incense reconciles the skies,
Again the radiant beams begin to rife;
Soft Zephyrs gently waft the clouds away,
And fragrant flowers perfume the dawning day;
The groves around rejoice with echoing strains,
And golden Plenty covers all the plains.

Ο

WRITTEN IN THE SPRING, 1716.

I.

'ER Winter's long inclement sway,
At length the lufty Spring prevails;

And, swift to meet the smiling May,
Is wafted by the western gales.
Around him dance the rofy hours,
And damasking the ground with flowers,
With ambient sweets perfume the morn :
With shadowy verdure flourish'd high,
A fudden youth the groves enjoy;
Where Philomel laments forlorn.

11.

By her awak'd, the woodland choir
To hail the coming god prepares;
And tempts me to refume the lyre,
Soft warbling to the vernal airs.
Yet once more, O ye Muses! deign
For me, the meanest of your train,
Unblam'd t' approach your blest retreat :
Where Horace wantons at your spring,
And Pindar sweeps a bolder string;
Whose notes th' Aonian hills repeat.

Or