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THE MODERN SAINT.
HER time with equal prudence Silvia fhares,
PROMETHEUS, forming Mr. Day,
Carv'd fomething like a man in clay.
The mortal's work might well miscarry;
His hand is evident in Harry.
Since one is but a moving clod,
T'other the lively form of God; "Squire Wallis, you will scarce be able, To prove all poetry but fable.
TO A YOUNG LADY,
Who was fond of FORTUNE-TELLING.
OU, Madam, may with safety go,
Decrees of destiny to know;
For at your birth kind planets reign'd,
I dread to fearch the dark decree;
This fecret then I dare not know,
To gratify what low desire,
Should I with needlefs hafte enquire,
It must proceed from you alone.
A GREEK EPIGRAM imitated.
WHEN hungry wolves had trefpafs'd on the fold,
And the robb'd fhepherd his fad ftory told;
“Call in Alcides," said a crafty prieft;
"Give him one half, and he 'll fecure the rest."
To their commands I willingly refign,
Power is their character, and patience mine;
To a FRIEND on his NUPTIALS.
WHEN Jove lay bleft in his Alemæna's charms,
Three nights, in one, he preft her in his arms; The fun lay fet, and confcious Nature ftrove To fhade her God, and to prolong his love. From that aufpicious night Alcides came, What lefs could rife from Jove, and fuch a Dame ? May this aufpicious night with that compare, Nor lefs the joys, nor lefs the rifing heir; He ftrong as Jove, fhe like Alcmæna fair!
THE WANDERING PILGRIM.
Humbly addreffed to Sir THO. FRANKLAND, Bart. Foft-Mafter, and Pay-Mafter-General to Queen ANNE.
ILL Piggot* must to Coxwould † go,
To live, alas! in want,
Unlefs Sir Thomas fay, No, no;
Th' allowance is too fcant.
The gracious Knight full well does weet,,
To keep a man each day in meat,
A Rechabite poor Will must live,
Spare diet, and fpring-water clear,
Physicians hold are good;
But pafs The Æfculapian crew,
Who cat and quaff the best,
They feldom mifs to bake and brew,
Or lin to break their faft.
This merry petition was written to obtain the
porter's place for Will Piggot.
Twelve miles north, beyond the city of York.
Could Yorkshire-tyke but do the fame,
In Will's old Master's plenteous days,.
What need of fpeaking in his praise ?
At his fam'd gate ftood Charity,
Dwelt there both night and day.
But, to conclude, and be concife,
There is but one, but one alone,
And make him ceafe to pine and moan;
O Frankland! it is Thee.
Oh! fave him from a dreary way,
To Coxwould he muft hye, Bereft of thee, he wends aftray,. At Coxwould he muft die.
Oh let him in thy hall but ftand,
And wear a porter's gown,
Duteous to what thou may'st command,
Thus William's wifhes crown.