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In idle pages no errata stand,

To tell the blunders of the printer's hand :
No fulfore dedication here is writ,

Nor flattering verfe, to praife the author's wit:
The margin with no tedious notes is vex'd,
Nor various readings to confound the text:
All parties in thy literal sense agree,
Thou perfect centre of concordancy !
Search we the records of an antient date,
Or read what modern hiftories relate,
They all proclaim what wonders have been done
By the plain letters taken as they run :
"Too high the floods of paffion us'd to roll,
"And rend the Roman youth's impatient foul;
"His hafty anger furnish'd scenes of blood,
"And frequent deaths of worthy men enfued:
"In vain were all the weaker methods try'd,
"None could fuffice to ftem the furious tide,
"Thy facred line he did but once repeat,
"And laid the form, and cool'd the raging heat."
Thy heavenly notes, like angels music, cheer
Departing fouls, and footh the dying ear.
An aged peafant, on his lateft bed,

Wish'd for a friend fome godly book to read;
The pious grandson thy known handle takes,
And (eyes lift up) this favory lecture makes :
Great A, he gravely read; th' important found
The empty walls and hellow roof rebound:

Th

The advice given to Auguftus, by Athenodorus

the ftoic philofopher.

Th' expiring antient rear'd his drooping head,
And thank'd his stars that Hodge had learn'd to read.
Great B, the yonker bauls; O heavenly breath !
What ghoftly comforts in the hour of death!
What hopes I feel! great C, pronounc'd the boy
The grandfire dies with extafy of joy.

Yet in fome lands fuch ignorance abounds,
Whole parishes fcarce know thy ufeful founds.
Of Effex hundreds fame gives this report,
But fame, I ween, says many things in sport.
Scarce lives the man to whom thou 'rt quite unknown,
Though few th' extent of thy vast empire own.
Whatever wonders magic fpells can do

On earth, in air, in fea, in fhades below;
What words profound and dark wife Mahomet spoke,
When his old cow an angel's figure took;
What strong enchantments fage Canidia knew,
Or Horace fung, fierce monsters to fubdue,
O mighty book, are all contain'd in you!
All human arts, and every fcience meet,
Within the limits of thy fingle sheet:

From thy vaft root all learning's branches grow,
And all her streams from thy deep fountain flow.
And, lo! while thus thy wonders I indite,
Infpir'd I feel the power of which I write ;
The gentler gout his former rage forgets,
Lefs frequent now, and lefs fevere the fits:
Loofe grow the chains which bound my useless feet;
Stiffness and pain from every joint retreat ;

}

Surprizing

Surprizing ftrength comes every moment on,
"I stand, I step, I walk, and now I run.
Here let me cease, my hobbling numbers stop,
And at * thy handle hang my crutches up.

225

THERSITES; OR, THE LORDLING

THE GRANDSON OF A BRICKLAYER, GREAT-
GRANDSON OF A BUTCHER.

HERSITES of amphibious breed,
Motley fruit of mongrel feed :

By the dam from Lordlings fprung,
By the fire exhal'd from dung:
Think on every vice in both,

Look on him, and fee their growth.
View him on the mother's fide,
Fill'd with falsehood, fpleen, and pride,
Pofitive and over-bearing,

Changing ftill, and still adhering,
Spiteful, peevish, rude, untoward :
Fierce in tongue, in heart a coward:
When his friends he most is hard on,
Cringing comes to beg their pardon;
Reputation ever tearing,

Ever dearest friendship fwearing.
Judgment weak, and passion strong;
Always various, always wrong:
Provocation never waits,

Where he loves, or where he hates.

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-Talks whate'er comes in his head,
Wishes it were all unfaid.

Let me now the vices trace,
From his father's fcoundrel race,

Who could give the looby such airs? Were they mafons? Were they butchers? Herald lend the Mufe an answer, From his atavus and grandfire; This was dexterous at his trowel, That was bred to kill a cow well: Hence the greafy clumfy mien, In his drefs and figure feen: Hence that mean and fordid soul, Like his body, rank and foul : Hence that wild fufpicious peep, Like a rogue that steals a sheep: Hence he learn'd the butcher's guile, How to cut a throat and fmile Like a butcher doom'd for life, In his mouth to wear his knife. Hence he draws his daily food, From his tenant's vital blood.

:

Laftly, let his gifts be try'd,
Borrow'd from the mason-fide.
Some, perhaps, may think him able
In the state to build a Babel;
Could we place him in a station
To deftroy the old foundation.
True, indeed, I fhould be gladder
Could he learn to mount a ladder.

May he at his latter end

Mount alive, and dead defcend.
In him, tell me, which prevail,

Female vices most, or male?
What produc'd them, can you tell?
Human race, or imp of hell?

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