Whence takes it its increase, and whence its birth,
Or from the sun, or from the air, or from the

earth,
Where all the fruitful atoms lie,

How some go downward to the root,

Some more ambitioufly upwards fly, And form the leaves, the branches, and the

fruit. You strove to cultivate a barren court in vain, Your garden's better worth

noble pain, Here mankind fell, and hence must rise again,

your

Shall I believe a spirit fo divine

Was cast in the same mold with mine? Why then does nature so unjustly share Among her elder fons the whole estate,

And all her jewels and her plate ? Poor we, cadets of heav'n, not worth her care, Take up at best with lumber and the leavings of

a fare:

Some she binds ’prentice to the spade,

Some to the drudgery of a trade, Some she does to Egyptian bondage draw, Bids us make bricks, yet fends us to look out for

straw:

Some she condemns for life to try To dig the leaden mines of deep philosophy :

Mc

Me she has to the muse's gallies tied,
In vain I strive to cross this spacious main,

In vain I tug and pull the oar,

And when I almost reach the shore, Straight the muse turns the helm, and I launch

out again :

And yet, to feed my pride, Whene'er I mourn, stops my complaining

breath, With promise of a mad reversion after death.

XII.

Then (Sir) accept this worthless verse,

The tribute of an humble muse, 'Tis all the portion of my niggard stars ; Nature the hidden spark did at my birth in

fuse, And kindled first with indolence and ease;

And since too oft debauch'd by praise,
'Tis now grown an incurable disease :
In vain to quench this foolish fire I try

In wisdom and philosophy ;
In vain all wholesome herbs I fow,

Where nought but weeds will grow.
Whate'er I plant (like corn on barren earth)

By an equivocal birth
Seeds and runs up to poetry.

On

On DAN JACKSON’s Pięture cut

in Paper.

То O fair lady Betty Dan fat for his

picture, And defy'd her to draw him so oft as he

piqu’d her: He knew she'd no pencil or colouring

by her, And therefore he thought he might safe

ly defy her. Come sit, says my lady, then whips up

her scislar, And cuts out his coxcomb in silk in a

trice, Sir. Dan sat with attention, and saw with

furprize How she lengthen'd his chin, how she

hollow'd his eyes,
But flatter'd himself with a secret conceit,
That his thin leathern jaws all her art

wou'd defeat.
Lady Betty observ'dit, then pulls out a pin,
Andvaries the grain of the stuff to his grin;
And to make roasted filk to resemble his

raw-bone,
She rais'd up a thread to the jett of his
jaw-bone;

Till

Till at length in exacteft proportion he rose, From the crown of his head to the arch of

his nose. And if lady Betty had drawn him with wig

and all, 'Tis certain the copy had out-done the

original. Well, that's but my out-side, says Dan

with a vapour.

Say you so? says my lady; I've lin’d it

with paper.

P-D-sculpfit.

Another.

CLARISSA

LARISS A draws her fciffars from

the case To draw the lines of poor Dan Jackson's

face. One slopingcut made forehead, nose, and

chin, A nick produc'd a mouth and made him

grin, Such as in taylor's measure you have seen. But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes, For which grey worsted-stocking paint supplies.

Th'

Th’unravel'd thread thro' needle's eye

convey'd Transferr'd itself into his paste-board head. How came the sciffars to be thus out-done? The needle had an eye, and they had none. O wond'rous force of art! now look at

Dan You'd swear the paste-board was the bet

ter man.

The dev’l, says he, the head is not so fullIndeed it is, behold the paper skull.

DAN's evil genius in a trice

Had ftripp'd him of his coin at dice; Chloe, observing this disgrace, On pam cut out his rueful face: By G-, fays Dan, 'tis very hard, Cut out at dice, cut out at card!

G.RT fculp.

On