Yet for the fame of all these deeds
What beggar in the Invalides,
With lameness broke, with blindness fmitten, Wish'd ever decently to die,
To have been either Mezeray,
Or any monarch he has written?
It's ftrange, dear author, yet it true is,
That, down from Pharamond to Louis,
All covet life, yet call it pain;
All feel the ill, yet fhun the cure:
Can fenfe this paradox endure?
Refolve me, Cambray, or Fontaine.
IV.
The man, in graver tragick known
(Though his best part long fince was done),
Still on the stage defires to tarry:
And he, who play'd the Harlequin,
After the jeft ftill loads the fcene,
Unwilling to retire, though weary.
Written in the Nouveaux Interêts des
PRINCES de l'EUROPE.
BEST be the princes, who have fought
For pompous names, or wide dominion; Since by their error we are taught,
That happiness is but opinion!
ADRIANI MORIENTIS ad Animam Suam.
ANIMULA vagula, blandula,
Hofpes, comefque corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in loca,
Pallidula, rigida, nudula ?
Nec, ut foles, dabis joca.
By Monfieur FONTENELLE.
MA petite ame, ma mignonne,
Tu t'en vas donc, ma fille, & Dieu fache ou tù vas
pars feulette, nuë, & tremblotante, helas!
Que deviendra ton humeur folichonne ?
Que deviendront tant de jolis ébats ?
IMITATE D.
POOR, little, pretty, fluttering thing,
Muft we no longer live together?
And doft thou prune thy trembling wing,
To take thy flight thou know'ft not whither ?
Thy humourous vein, thy pleafing folly,
Lies all neglected, all forgot:
And, penfive, wavering, melancholy,
Thou dread'ft and hop'st thou know'st not what.
A Paffage in the MORIE ENCOMIUM, of ERASMUS, imitated.
IN awful pomp, and melancholy state,
See fettled Reason on the judgement-feat:
Around her croud Distrust, and Doubt, and Fear,
And thoughtful Forefight, and tormenting Care:
Far from the throne, the trembling Pleasures stand,
Chain'd up, or exil'd by her ftern command.
Wretched her fubjects, gloomy fits the queen;
Till happy Chance reverts the cruel fcene;
And apifh Folly, with her wild refort
Of wit and jeft, difturbs the folemn court.
See the fantastic minftrelfy advance,
To breathe the fong, and animate the dance.
Bleft the ufurper! happy the furprize!
Her mimic poftures catch our eager eyes ;
Her jingling bells affect our captive ear;
And in the fights we fee, and founds we hear,
Against our judgement, fhe our fense employs ;
The laws of troubled Reason fhe destroys,
And in their place rejoices to indite
Wild schemes of mirth, and plans of loofe delight.
PRACTICAL DISCOURSE Concerning DEATH. FORGIVE the Mufe, who, in unhallow'd ftrains,
The Saint one moment from his God detains :
For fure, whate'er you do, where-e'er you are,
'Tis all but one good work, one constant prayer:
Forgive her; and intreat that God, to whom
Thy favour'd vows with kind acceptance come,
To raise her notes to that fublime degree,
Which fuits a fong of piety and thee.
Wondrous good man! whofe labours may repel
The force of fin, may ftop the rage of hell;
Thou, like the Baptift, from thy God wast fent,
The crying voice, to bid the world repent.
The Youth shall study, and no more engage
Their flattering wishes for uncertain age;
No more, with fruitlefs care and cheated ftrife,
Chafe fleeting pleasure through this maze of life;
Finding the wretched all they here can have,
But prefent food, and but a future grave:
Each, great as Philip's victor fon, fhall view
This abject world, and, weeping, ask a new.
Decrepit Age fhall read thee, and confefs
Thy labours can affuage, where medicines ceafe;
Shall blefs thy words, their wounded foul's relief,
The drops that sweeten their last dregs of life;
Shall look to Heaven, and laugh at all beneath;
Own riches gather'd, trouble; fame, a breath;
And Life an ill, whofe only cure is Death.
Thy even thoughts with fo much plainness flow,
Their fenfe untutor'd Infancy may know :
Yet to fuch height is all that plainnefs wrought,
Wit may admire, and letter'd pride be taught.
Eafy in words thy ftyle, in fenfe fublime,
On its bleft steps each age and fex may rise; "Tis like the ladder in the Patriarch's dream,
Its foot on earth, its height above the skies:
'Diffus'd its virtue, boundless is its power;
Tis public health, and univerfal cure :
Of heavenly manna 'tis a fecond feaft;
A nation's food, and all to every taste.
To its laft height mad Britain's guilt was rear'd;
And various death for various crimes the fear'd.
With your kind work her drooping hopes revive;
You bid her read, repent, adore, and live:
You wreft the bolt from Heaven's avenging hand;
Stop ready death, and fave a finking land.
O fave us ftill: ftill blefs us with thy ftay:
O! want thy Heaven, till we have learnt the way:
Refufe to leave thy deftin'd charge too foon ;
And, for the church's good, defer thy own.
O! live; and let thy works urge our belief;
Live to explain thy doctrine by thy life;
Till future Infancy, baptiz'd by thee,
Grow ripe in years, and old in piety;
Till Chriftians, yet unborn, be taught to die.
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