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Nothing she thought could sooner gain him,
Than with her wit to entertain him.
She ask'd about her friends below;
This meagre fop, that batter'd beau ;
Whether some late departed toasts
Had got gallants among the ghosts?
If Chloe were a sharper still,
As great as ever at quadrille
(The ladies there must needs be rooks,
For cards, we know, are Pluto's books)?
If Florimel had found her love,
Eor whom she hang’d herself above ?
How oft a week was kept a ball
By Proferpine at Pluto's hall ?
She fancied those Elysian shades
The sweetest place for masquerades :
How pleasant on the banks of Styx,
To troll it in a coach and fix!

What pride a female heart inflames! How endless are ambition's aims! Cease, haughty nymph; the fates decree Death must not be a spouse for thee: For when by chance the meagre shade Upon thy hand his finger laid, Thy hand as dry and cold as lead, His matrimonial spirit fled ;

He

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He felt about his heart a damp,
That quite extinguish'd Gupia's lamp:
Away the frighted spectre scuds,
And leaves my lady in the suds.

On S TEPHEN DUCK, the Thresher and

favourite Poet.

A QUIBBLING EPIGRA M.

Written in the Year 1730.

THE thresher

"HE thresher Duck cou'd o'er the

queen prevail, The proverb says, no fence against a flail

. From threshing corn he turns to thresh his

brains ;
For which her majesty allows him grains.
Though'tis confeft, that those who ever saw
His poems, think them all not worth a

ftraw !
Thrice happy Duck, employ'din thresh-

ing stubble!
Thy toil is lessen'd, and thy profits double.

He

A PANEGYRICK

ON

Τ Η Ε DEAN in the Perfon of a Lady in the North *

Written in the Year 1730.

R

ESOLV'D my gratitude to show,

Thrice rev’rend dean, for all I owe, Too long I have my thanks delay'd; Your favours left too long unpaid; But now in all our fex's name My artless Muse shall sing your fame,

Indulgent you to female kind, To all their weaker sides are blind; Nine more such champions as the dean Would soon restore our ancient reign. How well, to win the ladies hearts, You celebrate their wit and parts

s! How have I felt my fpirits rais’d, By you so oft, so highly prais’d!

* The lady of Sir Arthur Acheson,

Trans

Transform’d by your convincing tongue
To witty, beautiful, and young,
I hope to quit that aukward shame
Affected by each vulgar dame,
To modesty a weak pretence;
And soon grow pert on men of sense;
To shew my face with scornful air ;
Let others match it, if they dare.

Impatient to be out of debt, O, may I never once forget The bard, who humbly deigns to chuse Me for the fubject of his Muse. Behind my back, before my nose, He sounds my praise in verse and prose.

My heart with emulation burns
To make you suitable returns :
My gratitude the world shall know :
And see, the printer's boy below;
Ye hawkers all, your voices lift;
“ A panegyrick on dean Swift !
And then, to mend the matter still,
“ By lady Anne of Market-bill.

I thus begin: my grateful Muse Salutes the dean in different views ;

Dean,

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Dean, butler, usher, jester, tutor ;
* Robert and Darby's coadjutor :
And as you in commission sit,
To rule the dairy next to + Kit.

In each capacity I mean
To sing your praise. And first as dean:
Envy must own, you understand your
Precedence, and support your grandeur :
Nor of

your

rank will bate an ace,
Except to give dean. Daniel place.
In
you

such dignity appears ;
So suited to your state and years !
With ladies what a strict decorum !
With what devotion you adore 'em !
Treat me with so much complaisance,
As fits a princess in romance !
By your example and assistance,
The fellows learn to know their distance.
Sir Arthur, since you set the pattern,
No longer calls me snipe and Nattern;
Nor dares he, though he were a duke,
Offend me with the least rebuke.

Proceed we to your I preaching next;
How nice you split the hardest text !

* The names of two over- | The author preached but feers. + My lady's footman.

How

once while he was there.

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