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But in thy profe a greater force is found;
What Poet ever rais'd ten thousand pound?
Cadmus, by fowing dragons' teeth, we read,
Rais'd a vast army from the poisonous feed.
Thy labours, Lownds, can greater wonders do;
Thou raiseft armies, and canft pay them too.
Truce with thy dreaded pen; thy annals cease;
Why need we armies when the land's in peace?
Soldiers are perfect devils in their way;

When once they 're rais'd, they 're curfed hard to lay.

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EPISTLE XI.

TO A

YOUNG

LADY.

WITH SOME LAMPREY S.

WITH lovers 'twas of old the fashion

By presents to convey their pathon;

No matter what the gift they fent,

The lady faw that love was meant.
Fair Atalanta, as a favour,

Took the boar's head her Hero gave her ;
Nor could the briftly thing affront her;
'Twas a fit prefent from a hunter.
When fquires fend woodcocks to the dame,
It ferves to fhew their abfent flame.

Some by a fnip of woven hair,
In pofied lockets, bribe the fair.
How many mercenary matches

Have fprung from diamond-rings and watches!
But hold-a ring, a watch, a locket,

Would drain at once a Poet's pocket;

He should fend songs that cost him nought,
Nor ev'n be prodigal of thought.

Why then fend Lampreys? Fye, for fhame!
"Twill fet a virgin's blood on flame.
This to fifteen a proper gift!

It might lend fixty-five a lift.

I know your maiden aunt will scold,
And think my present somewhat bold.

5

I fee

I fee her lift her hands and eyes:

"What! eat it, Niece; eat Spanish flies ! "Lamprey's a most immodeft diet: "You'll neither wake nor fleep in quiet. "Should I to-night eat Sago-cream, “'Twould make me blush to tell my dream; "If I eat Lobster, 'tis fo warming, "That every man I fee looks charming; "Wherefore had not the filthy fellow "Laid Rochester upon your pillow? "I vow and fwear, I think the present "Had been as modeft and as decent.

"Who has her virtue in her power?
"Each day has its unguarded hour;
"Always in danger of undoing,

"A prawn, a fhrimp, may prove our ruin !
"The fhepherdefs, who lives on fallad,
"To cool her youth, controls her palate.
"Should Dian's maids turn liquorish livers,
"And of huge lampreys rob the rivers,
“Then, all beside each glade and visto,
"You'd fee Nymphs lying like Calisto.

"The man, who meant to heat your blood, "Needs not himself fuch vicious food-"

In this, I own, your aunt is clear,

I fent you what I well might fpare:
For, when I fee you, (without joking)
Your eyes, lips, breafts, are fo provoking,
They fet my heart more cock-a-hoop,
Than could whole feas of craw-fish foup.

P3

EPISTLE

EPISTLE XII.

TO A LADY,

ON HER

PASSION FOR OLD CHINA.

HAT extafies her bofom fire!

WHAT

How her eyes languish with defire!

How bleft, how happy, fhould I be,
Were that fond glance bestow'd on me !
New doubts and fears within me war :
What rival's near? a china-jar.
China's the paffion of her foul :
A cup, a plate, a dish, a bowl,
Can kindle wishes in her breast,
Inflame with joy, or break her rest.

Some gems collect; fome medals prize,
And view the ruft with lovers' eyes;
Some court the ftars at midnight-hours;
Some doat on Nature's charms in flowers;
But every beauty I can trace

In Laura's mind, in Laura's face;
My stars are in this brighter fphere,
My lily and my rofe is here.

Philofophers, more grave than wife,
Hunt fcience down in butterflies ;

Or,

Or, fondly poring on a fpider,
Stretch human contemplation wider.
Foffils give joy to Galen's foul;
He digs for knowledge, like a mole;
In fhells fo learn'd, that all agree

No fifh that fwims knows more than he !
In fuch pursuits if wifdom lies,
Who, Laura, fhall thy tafte defpife?
When I fome antique jar behold,
Or white, or blue, or fpeck'd with gold;
Veffels fo pure, and so refin'd,
Appear the types of woman-kind :
Are they not valued for their beauty,
Too fair, too fine, for houfhold duty?
With flowers and gold and azure dy'd,
Of every houfe the grace and pride?
How white, how polish'd is their skin,
And valued moft when only feen!
She, who before was highest priz'd,
Is for a crack or flaw defpis'd..

I grant they 're frail; yet they 're fo rare,
The treasure cannot coft too dear!

But man is made of coarfer stuff,
And ferves convenience well-enough;
He's a strong earthen veffel, made
For drudging, labour, toil, and trade;
And, when wives lofe their other felf,
With ease they bear the loss of delf.
Husbands, more covetous than fage,
Condemn this china-buying rage;

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