And ftandards with distinguish'd honours bright,
Marks of high power and national command,
Which Valois' fons, and Bourbon's bore in fight,
Or gave to Foix', or Montmorancy's hand:
Great spoils, which Gallia must to Britain yield,
From Creffy's battle fav'd, to grace Ramilia's field.
XXXIV.

And, as fine art the fpaces may difpofe,
The knowing thought and curious eye shall fee
Thy emblem, gracious Queen, the British rose,
Type of fweet rule and gentle majefty:
The northern thistle, whom no hostile hand
Unhurt too rudely may provoke, I ween;
Hibernia's harp, device of her command,
And parent of her mirth, fhall there be feen :
Thy vanquish'd lilies, France, decay'd and torn,
Shall with disorder'd pomp the lasting work adorn.
XXXV.

Beneath, great Queen, oh! very far beneath,
Near to the ground, and on the humble base,
To fave herself from darknefs and from death,
That Muse defires the last, the lowest place;
Who, though unmeet, yet touch'd the trembling ftring,
For the fair fame of Anne and Albion's land,
Who durft of war and martial fury fing;

And when thy will, and when thy fubject's hand,
Had quell'd thofe wars, and bid that fury cease;
Hangs up her grateful harp to conqueft, and to peace.

HER

RIGHT

AS Nancy at her toilet fat,

NAME.

Admiring this, and blaming that ;

Tell me, fhe faid; but tell me true;
The Nymph who could your heart fubdue.
What fort of charms does the possess ?
Abfolve me, fair-one: I'll confess;
With pleasure I reply'd. Her hair,
In ringlets rather dark than fair,
Does down her ivory bosom roll,
And, hiding half, adorns the whole.
In her high forehead's fair half round.
Love fits in open triumph crown'd:
He in the dimple of her chin,
In private state, by friends is seen.
Her eyes are neither black nor gray;
Nor fierce nor feeble is their ray;
Their dubious luftre feems to fhow
Something that fpeaks nor Yes, nor No.
Her lips no living bard I weet,

May fay, how red, how round, how sweet;

Old Homer only could indite

Their vagrant grace and foft delight:

They ftand recorded in his book,

When Helen smil'd, and Hebe spoke→
The gipfey, turning to her glass,
Too plainly fhew'd, she knew the face ;
And which am I most like, fhe faid,
Your Cloe, or your Nut-brown Maid?

CANTATA

B

CA

NTA TA.

Set by Monfieur GALLIARD.

RECIT.

ENEATH a verdant laurel's ample shade,
His lyre to mournful numbers strung,
Horace, immortal bard, fupinely laid,
To Venus thus addrefs'd the fong:
Ten thousand little Loves around,
Listening, dwelt on every found.

ARIET.

Potent Venus, bid thy fon

Sound no more his dire alarms.
Youth on filent wings is flown:
Graver years come rolling on.
Spare my age, unfit for arms :
Safe and humble let me reft,
From all amorous care releas'd.

Potent Venus, bid thy fon

Sound no more his dire alarms.

RECIT.

Yet, Venus, why do I each morn prepare

The fragrant wreath for Cloe's hair?

Why do I all day lament and figh,
Unless the beauteous maid be nigh?

And why all night purfue her in my dreams,
Through flowery meads and cryftal streams?

RECIT.

Thus fung the Bard; and thus the Goddess spoke = Submiffive bow to Love's imperious yoke:

Every ftate, and every age,

Shall own my rule, and fear my rage:
Compell'd by me, thy Mufe fhall prove,.
That all the world was born to love.

ARIET.

Bid thy deftin'd lyre discover

Soft defire and gentle pain :
Often praise, and always love her:

Through her ear, her heart obtain.

Verfe fhall please, and fighs fhall move her.
Cupid does with Phoebus reign.

Lines written in an OVID:

A Tranflation from the FRENCH

VID is the fureft guide,

You can name, to fhew the way
To any woman, maid or bride,
Who refolves to go astray.

A TRUE

O, no; for my virginity,

MAID.

When I lose that, fays Rofe, I'll die: Behind the elms, last night, cry'd Dick,

Rofe, were you not extremely fick ?

ANOTHER.

ANOT

H E R.

TEN months after Florimel happen'd to wed,

And was brought in a laudable manner to bed : She warbled her groans with so charming a voice, That one half of the parish was ftunn'd with the noise. But, when Florimel deign'd to lie privately in, Ten months before she and her spouse were a-kin; She chofe with fuch prudence her pangs to conceal,

That her nurse, nay her midwife, fcarce heard her once

fqueal.

Learn, husbands, from hence, for the peace of your

lives,

That maids make not half fuch a tumult as wives.

A REASONABLE AFFLICTION..

N his death-bed poor Lubin lies;

ΟΝ

His spouse is in despair :

With frequent fobs, and mutual cries,
They both exprefs their care.

A different caufe, fays parfon Sly,

The fame effect may give :

Poor Lubin fears, that he fhall die ;;

His wife, that he may live.

Another