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THE

POE M S

OP

MR. TICKEL L.

TO THE SUSPPOSED AUTHOR OF THE

IN

SPECTATOR.

courts licentious, and a fhameless stage,

How long the war shall wit with virtue wage?
Inchanted by this proftituted fair,

Our youth run headlong in the fatal fnare;
In height of rapture clasp unheeded pains,
And fuck pollution through their tingling veins ?
Thy spotlefs thoughts unfhock'd the priest may hear;
And the pure vestal in her bofom wear.

To confcious blushes and diminish'd pride,

Thy glass betrays what treacherous love would hide;
Nor harsh thy precepts, but infus'd by stealth,
Pleas'd while they cure, and cheat us into health.
Thy works in Chloe's toilet gain a part,
And with his tailor fhare the fopling's heart:
Lash'd in thy fatire, the penurious cit
Laughs at himself, and finds no harm in wit:
From felon gamefters the raw fquire is free,
And Britain owes her refcued oaks to thee.
His mifs the frolic Vifcount dreads to toast,
Or his third cure the fhallow Templar boaft;
And the rash fool, who fcorn'd the beaten road,
Dares quakes at thunder, and confess his God.
The brainless stripling, who, expell'd the town,
Damn'd the stiff college and pedantic gown,
Aw'd by thy name, is dumb, and thrice a week
Spells uncouth Latin, and pretends to Greek.

A fauntering

A fauntering tribe! fuch born to wide estates,
With yea and no in fenates hold debates :
At length defpis'd each to his fields retires,
Firft with the dogs, and king amidst the squires;
From pert to ftupid, finks fupinely down,

In youth a coxcomb, and in age a clown.

Such readers fcorn'd, thou wing'ft thy daring flight
Above the stars, and tread'ft the fields of light;
Fame, heaven and hell, are thy exalted theme,
And visions fuch as Jove himself might dream;
Man funk to flavery, though to glory born,
Heaven's pride when upright, and deprav'd his scorn.
Such hints alone could British Virgil lend,

And thou alone deserve from fuch a friend;
A debt fo borrow'd is illuftrious fhame,

And fame when fhar'd with him is double fame.
So, flufh'd with fweets by Beauty's Queen beftow'd,
With more than mortal charms Æneas glow'd:
Such generous ftrifes Eugene and Marlborough try,
And as in glory, fo in friendship vie.

Permit thefe lines by thee to live-nor blame
A Muse that pants and languishes for fame;
That fears to fink when humbler themes the fings,
Loft in the mafs of mean forgotten things:

Receiv'd by thee, I prophefy, my rhymes,

The praise of virgins in fucceeding times:

Mix'd with thy works, their life no bounds shall fee, But ftand protected, as infpir'd, by thee.

So fome weak shoot, which elfe would poorly rife, Jove's tree adopts, and lifts him to the skies;

Through

Through the new pupil foftering juices flow,

Thruft forth the gems, and give the flowers to blow.

Aloft; immortal reigns the plant unknown,

With borrow'd life, and vigour not his own.

A POEM,

TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE LORD PRIVYSEAL, ON THE PROSPECT OF PEACE.

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"Fronde fuper Mitram, & felici comptus Oliva."

VIRG.

CONTE

TO THE LORD PRIVY SEAL.

ONTENDING kings, and fields of death, too long
Have been the subject of the British song.
Who hath not read of fam'd Ramillia's plain,
Bavaria's fall, and Danube chok'd with flain!
Exhaufted themes! a gentler note I raise,
And fing returning peace in fofter lays.
Their fury quell'd, and martial rage allay'd,
I wait our heroes in the fylvan shade:
Dibanding hosts are imag'd to my mind,

And warring powers in friendly leagues combin'd,
While eafe and pleasure make the nations fmile,
And Heaven and Anna blefs Britannia's ifle.

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