The Works of the English Poets: Garth and King

Whose lucky hand administers repose
As well to breaking heart, as broken nose;
Accept this tribute: think it all I had,
In recompence of thine, when I was fad.

What though it comes from an unpractis'd Muse,
Bad at the best, grown worse by long disuse;
In filence loft, fince once I did complain
Of Wiv—l's cold neglect in humble strain ;
When, check'd by flavish confcience, the deny'd
To throw afide the niece, and act the bride :
Yet fure I may be thought among the throng
If not to fing, to whistle out a fong:
Then take the kind remembrance of my verse,
While Dingle's lofs with-forrow I rehearse.
Dingle is loft, the hollow caves refound
Dingle is loft, and multiply the found;
Till Echo, chaunting it by just degree,
Shortens to Ding, then foftens it to D.

?

Dingle is loft; where 's now the parent's care,
The boafted force of piety and prayer
No more fhall fhe within thy fpacious hall
Lead up the dance, and animate the ball;
Deferted thus, no more fhalt thou engage
Under the roof to Whartonize the age.

Train'd by thy care, by thy example led,
Early the learnt to fcorn the nuptial bed;
In vain by thy advice enlarg'd her mind,
And vow'd, like thee, to multiply her kind:
For Dingle thou didst blefs the nether skies;
In hopes a mingled race might once arife,
To footh thy hoary age, and clofe thy dying eyes.

Learn,

Learn, ye indulging parents, learn from hence:
Think not compliance e'er will influence.
The fifth command alone you did enjoin,
And frankly gave her up the other nine:

Yet she, though that, and that alone, was press'd,
Regardless of your will, the fifth tranfgrefs'd.
But oh! my friend, confider, though the 's gone,
She left no coffers empty but her own;

Her mind, that did direct the great machine,
Mov'd, like the universe, by springs unseen;
And, though from thy inftructions she retreats,
Her globe of light grows larger as she fets :
For nought could brighter make her lustre shine,
Than to withdraw, and fingle it from thine.
Then think of this; and pardon, when you fee,
Thofe virtues you so late admir'd in me.

CON

Claremont. Addressed to the Right Hon. the Earl of Clare, afterwards Duke of Newcastle. To the Lady Louifa Lenos, with Ovid's Epiftles. 104 To Richard Earl of Burlington, with Ovid's Art of Love.

105

To the Dutchefs of Bolton, on her staying all the winter in the country.

107

To the Duke of Marlborough, on his voluntary

banishment.

108

To the Earl of Godolphin.

109

On her Majesty's Statue in St. Paul's Church-yard. 110

On the New Conspiracy. 1716.

On the King of Spain.