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P H R Y N E.

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P
HRYNE had talents for mankind,

and unconfin'd,
Like some free port of trade;
Merchants unloaded here their freight,
And Agents from each foreign state

Here first their entry made.
Her learning and good-breeding fuch,
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch,

Spaniards or French came to her :
To all obliging she'd appear :
'Twas Si Signior, 'twas Yaw Mynheer,

'Twas S'il vous plaist, Monsieur. Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes, Still changing names, religion, climes,

At length she turns a Bride :
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
She shines the first of batter'd jades,

And Autters in her pride.
So have I known those Insects fair
(Which curious Germans hold fo rare)

Still vary shapes and dyes ;
Still gain new Titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,

Then painted butterflies.

15

20

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VII.

Dr. SWIFT.

JO

The Happy Life of a COUNTRY PARSON. PARS

ARSON, these things in thy possessing

Are better than the Bishop's blessing. A Wife that makes conserves; a Steed That carries double when there's need : October store, and beft Virginia,

5 Tythe-Pig, and mortuary Guinea : Gazettes fent gratis down, and frank'd, For which thy Patron's weekly thank’d; A large Concordance, bound long since; Sermons to Charles the First, when Prince: A Chronicle of ancient standing; A Chryfoftom to smooth thy band in. The Polyglott-three parts, my text, Howbeit, - likewise-now to my next. Lo here the Septuagint, and Paul,

15 To sum the whole,-the clofe of all.

He that has these, may pass his life,
Drink with the 'Squire, and kiss his Wife;
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill.;
And fast on Fridays if he will;
Toast Church and Queen, explain the News,
Talk with Church-Wardens about Pews,
Pray heartily for some new Gift,
And Thake his head at Doctor Swift.

A FARE.

20

A FAREWELL TO LONDON

IN THE YEAR 1715.

k and you

DI
EAR, damn’d, diftra&ing town, farewell!

,
Thy fools no more I'll teize :
This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,

Ye harlots, sleep at ease!
Soft B and rough C - adieu!

Earl Warwick make your moan,
The lively H --

May knock up whores alone.
To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd

Till the third watchman toll;
Let Jervais gratis paint, and Frowde

Save three-pence and his soul.
Farewell Arbuthnot's raillery

On every learned sot;
And Garth, the best good christian he,

Although he knows it not.
Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go;

Farewel, unhappy Tonfon!
Heaven gives thee, for thy loss of Rowe,

Lean Philips, and fat Johnson.
Why should I stay ? Both parties rage;

My vixen mistress squalls;
The wits in envious feuds engage;
And Homer (damn him!) calls.

A a 2

The The love of arts lies cold and dead

In Halifax's urn;
And not one Muse of all he fed,

Has yet the grace to mourn.
My friends, by turns, my friends confound,

Betray, and are betray'd :
Poor Y -- r's sold for fifty pound,
And B

11 is a jade.
Why make I friendships with the great,

When I no favour feek?
Or follow girls seven hours in eight:-

I need but once a week.

Still idle, with a busy air,

Deep whimsies to contrive ; The gayest valetudinaire,

Most thinking rake alive. Solicitous for others ends,

Though fond of dear repose; Careless or drowsy with my friends, And frolick with

my

foes. Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell,

For sober, ftudious days !
And Burlington's delicious meal,

For sallads, tarts, and pease !
Adieu to all but Gay alone,

Whose soul, sincere and free, Loves all mankind, but flatters none,

And so may starve with me.

A DIA.

A DIALOGUE.

SIN

Pope.
INCE my old friend is

grown

fo

great, As to be minister of state, I'm told (but 'tis not true I hope)

That Craggs will be asham'd of Pope.
CRAGGS. Alas! if I am such a creature,

To grow the worse for growing greater;
Why faith, in spite of all my brags,
'Tis Pope must be asham'd of Craggs.

E PIG RA M.

Engraved on the Collar of a Dog, which I gave to his

Royal Highness.

I

Am his Highness’ dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, Sir, whose dog are you?

E PI G R A M.

Occasioned by an Invitation to Court. IN N the lines that you sent, are the Muses and Graces; You've the Nine in your wit, and the Three in your

faces.

A FRAG,

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